The Architect & the 3-Day-Diet

As planned, I met up with the Architect after work yesterday.  The evening started at his job site, which is the top floor of a super swanky building on Central Park.  I had instructions on how to get up there, and:

“If security stops you, just tell them you have a meeting with the architect on the 40th floor.”

“Sexual.”

I walked into the $7.2 million duplex apartment, which was completely gutted, and cleared out for the day, except for the Architect waiting for me, with a pen still in his ear.  It had breathtaking views of the park from all angles.  I just stood in the center of the first floor in awe for a couple of minutes.  The Architect gave me a full tour, showed me some renderings on his laptop, and I walked around imagining I lived there.  We hung around for a good hour, before I had to drag myself out.

“I love it here.”

“You can come back anytime….”

“Okay!”

“… Within reason!”

“Why did you have to throw in ‘within reason?’  You think I have nothing better to do than to stalk you at work all the time?”

“No, I just got a vision of you coming in here and distracting all the workers.  They’d get nothing done with you here.”

“Please!  I’ll wait ’til they’re gone.  Next time let’s just bring drinks up here.”

“Sounds good.”

photo-7

It was a super crappy day… rainy and cold.  We walked several blocks to a bar that had 5 million beers on tap which I didn’t care anything about.  Until I realized the ounces and alcohol content for each beer was listed on the menu.  So I made rules.  I always make rules.  My rules resulted in the Architect being drunk after 3 beers.  Muuuahahahahaha.  I get way more information out of him after a few drinks.

We decided to Yelp places in the area with darts (“we” decided = I decided).  We found one which was pretty empty and boring, but they had a dartboard.  The two gay guys playing didn’t want opponents and also didn’t know how to actually make the darts hit the board, despite the fact that they BROUGHT THEIR OWN DARTS, so we ended up sitting around waiting until we decided we really didn’t even feel like playing darts that much anyway.

Now here is when I tell you about this “3-Day-Diet” pack I picked up at Shop Rite the other day.  It came with 6 little bottles of liquid, 2 ounces in each.  Just like the little bottles the 5-Hour-Energy drinks come in.  You’re supposed to drink one in the morning for energy, and one before bed to “rid your body of toxins,”  which, obviously, come in the form of poo in the morning.

NOTHING really makes me poo so I was hoping this little detox system might do the trick.  Oh it did alright.  I was feeling quite empty after I woke up in the morning, and released all of those toxins.  Oddly enough, I guess there were still some toxins lingering.  Because as 9pm came around and we were sitting a few feet from the ladies room, the remaining toxins decided they were ready to be released.

I didn’t really care.  The Architect and I have a pretty open poop-discussing relationship.  And I had already told him about the detox drinks.  So it wasn’t a surprise to him, when I took a little longer in the ladies room.

What MIGHT have come as a surprise to him was the stench as I opened the door after getting rid of the toxins.  Whoops.

He was kind enough to keep his mouth shut while we were still in the bar, but later, after he accidentally let out a little audible “toot” (WHAT IS WRONG WITH US?!) and I couldn’t stop laughing for a good 10 minutes because it sounded like a horn, he informed me that my poop stunk up the entire back half of the bar as soon as I opened the bathroom door.

“No way, you’re just saying that because I’m making fun of your fart.”

“It hit me in the face right away.  Why do you think the gay guys playing darts finally left??”

;afjkla;dlfkja;dlkfja;ldfkjalfkdjadlk.  Oops.

Stupid 3-Day-Diet.

Am I skinny yet?

xoxo Gossip Girl

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