The day finally came, Julie’s host brother, German, whose beauty we had been hearing about all semester, was finally able to take us out.  The fact that it was a Wednesday wasn’t about to stop us, because as she mentioned, it was “a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

While I was getting all crazy at the gym, I got a Facebook message from Julie, advising us that German and Jorge like “a girl in heels.” And so the outfit plotting began as the six of us girls exchanged messages on who was wearing what and who should just go naked.

I was living the ultimate dilemma and didn’t have anything appropriate to wear on a humid spring night.  I had only picked out coral heels when Alexa came to my rescue, arriving with four dress options.  I ended up in a white sleeveless lace dress, a cropped navy three-quarter length blazer, and of course, the coral heels. Very “spring, Vitamina-A”.

So we head to Julie’s apartment and are all kind of just sitting around chatting, waiting for something to happen.  All of a sudden, this man appears from behind me and is kissing me hello (on the cheek, relax).  And I’m like, “noooooo, this can’t be him…” It was. Someone said he looked like an Abercrombie model which is an accurate description (tall, tan, blonde, …sexy). Regardless, I don’t plan on gushing about German for the whole post.

We leave the apartment and head in cabs to Jorge’s house for a “pre”. We get there, the music’s loud and its kind of dark, turn the corner: it’s empty. Like oh. Ended up being the six of us girls, and the two of them… what a ratio. We drank cheap alcohol while they sipped the classy ish. In an attempt to get everyone shitty and less awkward, someone suggested drinking games (when in doubt). Like always, no one thought to bring cards, so we ended up with “Never Have I Ever/ Yo Nunca”.  It annoys the crap out of me when people can’t think of one… like sorry you’re such a hoe bag that you only “Have”.  Anyway, the game is carrying on with people skipping their turns and me yelling at everyone until eventually after the third round we were ready for a switch.  German goes, “Wait, one last question….who wants to have sex tonight?”  And from here things got weird….


The drinking continued (I quote Alexa “màs, màs, necesito màs). We eventually left the apartment to walk to Isabella’s, in Palermo Soho (only the chicest part of town). Get this, I’m walking up ahead of the group with two other girls as our other drunken friends dragged behind with the two boys in tow.  I’m in my head, having this great conversation: “I’m just the picture of grace,” “These cobblestone streets got nothing on MY  heels,” … as if you don’t know where this is going.  Of course, I skipped up onto a cobblestone curb, taking a large spill and rolling an ankle in front of the entire group.  In positive news, I am almost positive I kept my legs closed.  Note, also, that I wasn’t even drunk, just stupid (shocking).

Eventually we made it to Isabella’s, which was this really chic kind of casino bar place. So chic that you were looking at $60 Pesos for even the cheapest drink ($15 USD). We left and went somewhere else because all the men were 40 years our senior and gawking.

Then we go to this place in Plaza Serrano, called Burges or something.  It shouldn’t surprise you that this was yet another techno rave. We all bought drinks we didn’t need (for me, a margarita that was anything but), and danced like we knew how to salsa and be latin (at least this was how we thought we looked, I’m sure the reality was much worse and perhaps explained why the boys ditched us…). The group of us got separated approximately four times which made it very difficult to leave and go to Kentucky Pizza, which was my main goal (either that or go to bed). Eventually, around 3:30am, we rallied, and took taxis to the Kentucky Pizza on Santa Fe and Pueyrredon, in the middle of the two neighborhoods where all of us live.  I had assured everyone that it was open 24 hours, only to arrive and see that that is only on the weekends.  Is this some higher power trying to show me rock bottom? “Olivia, it’s a Wednesday night, well now a Thursday morning. Get your life together, stop craving pizza, and especially stop drinking excessively during the week.” … As if that would be enough. I imagine rock bottom being in jail.

Pissed and Disappointed, we split up 3 and 3 to walk home in our respective directions. Alexa almost got us robbed because once again she insisted she lost something, forcing us to stop at a closed restaurant, where she poured out the contents of her Longchamp onto a table in front of a bunch of scary homeless people.  While her and our other friend rummaged through the items, I stood a few meters back, making sarcastic remarks and watching with disdain. In the end, she hadn’t lost anything (have we established that I’m almost always right????)

We’re walking home and Alexa’s mad at me for yelling at her about being dumb so she storms ahead with her little baby Toms while I clonked behind in my heels.  The two of us were stewing. I was especially irritated when she complained about walking, because, as stated, she was wearing Toms. I give this bitch cab money and go to storm away (I obviously wasn’t going to be the one to break first – Two can play that game!!!!) and in this little tiny voice, she goes “I love you…” Hahaha like you fucking bitch. At this point the two of us start laughing, and she proposes that in the morning when we wake up everything will be fine again, especially since we were both wearing each others clothes.  I was confused because I thought everything already was fine, but whatever, I’m not really one to pick at the details… (if only).

Mind you, Drunk Alexa, my best friend’s alter-ego, had reminded me about the boy earlier in the night, which led to quite the elaborate texting conversation. This kept me occupied at 4am when I arrived home and couldn’t find anything to eat. Also, I was really mad at my brother because I was going to eat the last banana and he ate all of the Dulce de Leche. I wasn’t entirely surprised because it’s his main food group, but mad all the same.  I resorted to the chunky Jiff I had received in the mail from Danielle last month.  Curling up in my bed, scraping the peanut bar jar, and texting a boy wayyyyy to hot for his own good. A fairly successful end to the night.


9am Thursday Morning: My alarm goes off and I ask myself what the hell I’m doing with my life.