Breakfast; rape; future parties

Together with Mike, Sam, Kevin, and Anita, I just finished eating breakfast at a place called The Farm, where I had a stack of food made up of poached eggs, a latke and smoked salmon, accompanied by thick toast and a mimosa. The stack was delicious, though I could have wished for a more firm consistency. The mimosa was strong, made with quality champagne. I'd go back.

Last night Michael Goetz (co-author of this blog) drank liquor at a party, was given a ticket for putting his feet up on the subway by some police, then came home, stripped off most of his clothes, and attempted to force some of his body parts inside my orifices. It was unpleasant, and the intense look in his eyes, like that of a stubbornly frustrated bull, scared me.

The rape attempts continued for about an hour. During this time, I was able to throw Mike onto a hat that he had previously placed in the middle of the floor. According to the rules of this place, this should have made me the winner of a "hat match," but Mike kicked the hat away after landing on it, and thus I was robbed of any recognition for my achievement.

Tonight I'm attending a party to celebrate Tara Lohr-Bringley's 27th year. I last saw Tara in May of 2008, when I attended her wedding to Patrick Bringley, who was my first friend at New York University. I've been told the festivities will consist of a scavenger hunt at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, followed by dinner. Never one to play against his self-perpetuated stereotype, Mike is insisting that there will be widespread drunkenness.

Kevin showed me a game last night called Torchlight, of which much has been written by various game-centric internet news sources and opinion sites. It looked fun, though I wondered how it was different from Diablo or World of Warcraft, its obvious influences. Why place this single-player game, an experienced confined to the loneliness of a glowing screen in an empty apartment, when one could play World of Warcraft and assuage the sorrow of the aforementioned situation by interacting with scores of other living, breathing human beings? I trust Kevin's taste, though, and assume that there must be something I'm missing. I need to learn more.

The southern area of Park Slope is warm today. The sun is shining. I've been welcomed by some friends and humped repeatedly by another friend. There's a party tonight, and a meatball parm in my future before I leave.