Sbarro's pizza... so unNewYork

To be a true New Yorker, or in my case an adopted one, there are rules one must live by...
1. Never ever act like, or even pretend to enjoy Times Square
2. Do not ever be caught dead there on a weekend night, one can only visit Times Square for work during the week around the hours of 8am to 7 pm.
3. Under no circumstance will one ever go to one of the tacky chain restaurants in the area.
4. Pizza in New York is a staple and must be enjoyed with great care... Sbarro's is not pizza (especially not by New York standards) so one should never be caught dead there.
NOt following the rules can lead up to but not limited to the confiscation of your Metro Card.

So after hanging out on my roommates Bday at the lovely Library Roof Top Lounge, one would think that when four drunk girls have a hankering for pizza they would find some hole in the wall and partake in a slice of cheese. Well when four lovely ladies full of Sangria's and wine see a Sbarro's, they secretly go in and wait in line with all of the tourist folk. While in the line of Sbarro's there is at least one thing you can depend on (besides cardboard like pizza) no other person from New York will be there. So in a drunken stuppor (okay maybe tipsy stuppor) I am next to someone I am sure does not have Big Apple in his blood. L.A has his nickname because well, by looking at him... you know where he is from. Let me just say this, for a city that does not sleep and has far too many models and actors... I have not once run into a blond haired, blue-eyed, v-neck and necklace wearing, chuck taylor having guy who I also secretly believe may have highlights. But again, in a Sbarro's in Time Square you never know who you may run into. So, after babbling incoherently about the line or pizza or something, i decide to have him join our table. After more babbling on both our parts, I decide to part with my roommate and friends and hang out with him. What do we do? Go to the W. I know what you are thinking she did the nasty... no you whores, there is a lounge there. Where we both drank a we-have-both-had--enough-to-drink-I-am=tipsy-he-is-slurring-vodka-tonics. After sitting too closely and talking about absolutely nothing, I realized what he was saying. "You are hot, why don't you have a boyfriend?" I began trying to explain...going on and on, about how I just moved here when I realized and that I don't know, I still have no real answer. But L.A has opened my eyes, and my new question in life is...
why don't I?

L.A this is for you, have fun in the sun, drink far too much, go into the middle of compton, take matches, maybe lighter fluid, fill a rag with the lighter fluid, place the rag where the gas goes, use the matches and well you know the rest... say goodbye to the BMW
p.s to all the rest of you, you can only have a conversation like this drunk... in New York