Last night I guess you could say I had my first taste of NYC fancy nightlife.  I went to an Andy Warhol book signing/cocktail party.  Actually, the author of the book was stuck in a dark corner behind some curtains and looked really sad.  My friends and I didn't even notice he was there until we were leaving.  I've decided that the party was supposed to be a type of party Andy Warhol would have thrown.  While we were expecting art, or some semblance of art, we were instead inundated by performance artists.  They were definitely interesting, or should say their costumes were interesting, since I didn't talk to them, I really can't be sure how interesting they actually are.  They looked like they were having fun though, so that was cool.  There was one guy rolled up on the floor, he was the human rug, and he wanted people to walk on him and jump up on down on him.  I did not do it, although two of my friends did.

We actually spent the majority of the evening outside on the patio, just sitting with our own little group talking.  It was fun, but we could have just as easily been sitting together in a restaurant.  There was no mingling, which is fine with me, I'm not a mingler.  There as no dancing, which I think certain people were disappointed with, but again, I'm not a dancer, so I was ok.

We left the party around 12:30 I guess and between certain people (you know who you are!) wanting dinner,  slow moving trains, and uncomfortable shoes, I didn't get home until about 3:30am.  Considering I didn't go to sleep until my friend told me he was home (about 4am), and I woke up at 7:30am, I'm surprisingly functional today, just tired.

The only part of the evening I was not thrilled with was the constant "Where are you?" texts from my mother.  I told her I was going out, I told her I was going to be home late.  Granted I was out later than I thought I would be, but I still told her about this.  I told her I who I was with, I told her one of my friends ( a guy) was going to bring me home.  This was not enough for her, she just kept texting me.  I understand that she was worried, but there was no reason she should have been.  I was texting her back and forth all night, unwillingly, telling her where I was at that particular moment all evening, until I got in the train.  I get it, she's a mother, she's also a natural worrier.  However, I have never given her reason not to trust me and would therefore like a little slack.  Is this what's it's going to be like when I move out?  Is she going to monitor where I am all the time?  I'm getting married in 42 days!  You'd think I was an adult... oh wait, I am.