Feeling More Like an 80-Year-Old Than An '80s Child

I would like to ask the world to please stop reminding me how old I am.

Last night, my roommmate, her sister, and I went out to dinner and then The Pyramid Club's '80s New Wave dance party. On my way to meet up with them, I was casually strolling down 15th Street near Irving Plaza, when I saw the sidewalks jammed with people, most of whom were letting out the most ear-splitting shrieks I'd ever heard. There were barricades up and security vans in the street outside the Belmont Lounge, so I knew some hot shit celeb must have been there. I was just going to keep walking -er, pushing - through but then I thought, "What if it's Zac Efron?" (Yes, the old lady crush still lives.) Or, "What if it's Adam Lambert??" I turned to a guy standing with his camera phone at the ready and asked who was inside and he told me. The freaking Jonas Brothers. I was like, ahhhh okay. Let's keep it moving, then. Nothing to see here. But, even though there were girls all around me spazzing out trying to get the best vantage point, I actually got a full-on view of them walking out of the restaurant. I probably could've just leaned in a few inches to my left and grabbed one of them. It figures, because I didn't care.

After checking online today, I found out that they appeared on The Late Show that afternoon, and were playing a free show at Irving Plaza. (Apparently, they also invaded Central Park this morning.) I guess I'm going to have to start checking the gossip sites from now on before I go anywhere. I totally could have avoided the throng of idiots. But at least the Jonas Brothers didn't ruin my plans, like Barack Obama did.

After the celeb sighting, I had a great dinner at Max, which I highly recommend to anyone in or planning to visit New York. I had the spaghetti with lamb ragu, and it was SPECTACULAR.

Then it was on to The Pyramid Club. Remember yesterday when I said that "drunk" would be part of my equation? I wasn't lying. My roommate and I had already split a rather large bottle of prosecco at dinner, so we already had a semi-buzz going on. Then, since it was also Ladies' Night, we got our first beer free and every beer after that was $2. Now, the beers were nothing special. Just smallish Rolling Rock drafts. But when you find a place - especially in NYC - serving $2 beers, it's actually irresponsible to NOT get hammered. So, we behaved like responsible adults.

I'm kind of surprised that I got so drunk because I felt like I should have been sweating most of the beer out. We didn't stop dancing from the time we got there until the time we left. It was great, but I have to lodge a minor complaint. This was the second time I'd been to Pyramid, and the second time the DJ didn't play any Duran Duran. We even requested some. TWICE. What the hell? You can't have an '80s Night without those guys.

Anyway, things got very blurry when this crazy club kid started taking turns dancing with all of us. And by dancing, I mean twirling and whipping us around incessantly. Now, this place was nearly pitch black, I was completely loaded, and I had some madman tossing me around like a rag doll. I've never dropped acid, but I have to imagine that I came pretty close to the experience there. I'm just glad I didn't puke in the middle of the dance floor. I did fall on my ass though. Of course I did.

Strangely enough, the only part of me that doesn't hurt today is my ass. I feel like I fell out of a tree and hit every branch on the way down. This is from one night of dancing. God, I'm decrepit.

And making me feel like even more of an old lady is my recent discovery that Prince is not only 51 (that's right), but he needs to have hip replacement surgery. What's next? I swear, if Cyndi Lauper and Rick Springfield show up in the next Medic Alert commercial, I'm jumping out the nearest window. If I even have the strength to get it open.