Ah yes, the Partygirl is the fourth and final ya-ya to report the events of last evening's Diaryland get together.

And no, Riot I was not waiting to see what everyone else wrote, because as you saw last night - I don't have that kind of control. In my mind, I would love to play it cool but frankly, my exuberance beats me every time and I give it up like a whore in bed.

Here's what happened. I came in and tried to quickly attend to work that I needed to finish before my lunch date today. And what a lunch that was.

Before making my way over to Times Square, I stood outside and had a quick cigarette. Standing in my ladylike two-toned blue mohair and cashmere blend skirt that falls every-so-chicly just below my knees, I was bare-legged in this cold, and wearing my favorite pointy toed black slingbacks. Hand on my waist, left foot placed back, right foot confidently extended in front of me, I smoked.

Mid-exhale, two men are walking down the street. Older men, one black, one white. Neither of the kind that I would write home about. Both, however, have eyes on my legs. I watch out of the corners of my eyes in anticipation for what's about to happen, but stare straight ahead. Just at they simulanteously reach me, their eyes on my twenty-something legs, they smack into each other, right in front of me.

I smirk, they are embarrassed, because they are old enough to be my father, and they both back up, eyes down, and I laugh outright.

Because it's a great feeling to be a woman and experience the power we have over men. Ladies, gay or straight, love the fact that you have a hold over them. And use it. They make more money and they may try to keep you down and they may not pay you the respect you deserve, but you have something on them: You own their cock. You do. They can't control it and they will succomb.

But that was just a minor distraction. The major distraction was at Times Square, when I jumped out of my cab in front of the TRL studios. I walked down the street, but a couple of steps into the walk, I ducked into a little alcove to button my coat. I burst right into a circle of goths.

Me, in my working girl clothes, in the center of a bunch of goths. I have a butt in my mouth and when I look up, my long blonde bangs are covering my eyes. I toss my head to the side, pull the smoke out of my mouth and squint as I assess this crowd and smile brightly and say,"It's FUCKIN' COOooooooolllldddd out here!"

They stand there, silent, glowering in their goth glory. But I will not be shut out. Puh-lease, I gave birth to goth in my day. They will pay their respects. I take another drag and wait them out in this silence game, because shit like this is sport for me. Finally, one of the 2 guys in the group speaks up, "A-aa-aaaare you h-h-hhhere for Manson," he stammered.

I take a look around and I notice they are all wearing various black Marilyn Manson T-shirts. I laugh and say, "Nope, I'm heading to lunch. Just stopped to button my coat. But I sure as hell would rather be seeing Manson." He half-smiled, while the other guy continued his in depth stare of the NYC cement, the Manic Panic-ed out redhead chick further glowered at me and the other chicks - well, they just gave me back.

So I turned and walked away to my lunch spot.

But I should tell you all something. I meant what I said. I wish I had been there to see Manson. I think Marilyn Manson is F*ing HOT. Frankly, I find him sexually attractive. It's that whole fucked up deviancy he represents. It makes me want to just get IN THERE.

But he is a freak. And I am not a starfucker. Nor am I Rose McGowan:-)

*~*

Back to the ya-ya's. Last night, Gingi and I met the fabulous twosome riot718 and cubicle girl. And just as I suspected, they rock.

Riot looks like a grown up Katie Holmes. Truly. And she is even more entertaining (is that possible) in person.

Cubicle Girl was giving me a Mary Louise Parker vibe. All cute and giggly and so much more "New York" than she claims on her page.

Gingi, that filthy whore, made an exit shortly after I bought her a beer. Just like the men in my life: I buy, they fly;-) Just kidding, you're excused!

Cubicle girl exited early, but happily, my new partner in crime, Riot, stayed with me to chat and drink and smoke more cigarettes than are necessary. Did you know that the best friends met online? Perhaps you did, but I didn't. I found that amazing. For me, I'm out on the town a great deal for work and pleasure. Often, during these excursions, I tend to pick up another friend or two. I think I collect them. These friends. And might I add, I have quite a collection;-) So the tale of two people, clearly so close, meeting first online, where there are no pretenses, no images to live up to, no eye contact - blows me away. And for them to have met, and bonded and now landed here in this city together, is heart warming.

And by the way, I can't believe that I just said that was heart warming. There must be chink in my armor.

And so we stayed and we chatted in the comfort of a dark candlelit lounge. And we drank and we talked about our lives and who we are and diaryland and what it is, and we spoke about many of you bloggers on here and your problems. We spoke about how hard it is to be a teenager and how Riot would like to have baby girls but I would like to have a whole corrale of boys because my worst fear is having a girl like me. The worry alone would kill me.

In between cigarettes, we spoke about sex and relationships and marriage and fidelity and New York and college and books and future plans.

We spoke quickly and sometimes loudly, or in the case of Cubicle Girl, softly with the hint of southern accent, and occasionally we spoke over each other until Riot pointed out that we were three of the most egocentric people trying to converse with each other. And then we laughed.

I tried to flirt with the bartender, but leave it to the married girl among us to have made inroads early and know his name;-)

We shared secrets and beers and I think I hooked them both on my very favorite brew;-)And they hooked me on their charm.

Finally, the wise one among us, Riot, suggested we head out, because it was late. We hugged and parted and as I rode home, I thought to myself what a funny week it's been.

In just a few days I braced myself to be strong for this friend and then I lost this friend after a long battle, and then I met her and her.

Funny how things work out, isn't it?

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