I swear it was the lack of sulfates

Important thing to remember; number 638: do not drink organic wine, biodynamic wine or anything pertaining to be sulfate free. Aside from the obvious conclusion that wine of this nature is most likely to be revolting - it is. It also aids getting very, very, drunk in a sneaky, cunning manner.

Hotel Boy and I were dining at a restaurant he picked in the East village. Do not go there. After sampling four different wines of the above mentioned "pure" method, each of which no less tastebud tantalising than the previous, Hotel Boy boldly suggested we opt for a fine little French number, which we'd not tasted. He was pulling French-Canadian rank; what would I know about French wines, being Australian? I wanted to point out that aside from ice wine what other vitacultural delights did the Canadanians ever bring to the table?

Unsuprisingly the unheard of maker produced a fine little vinegar. Suprisingly it miraculously improved - well it did in contrast to the soggy fish and accompanying shrivelled - opps sorry rehydrated organic vegetables.

Quaffing our bottle of organic plonk we rallied on into the night, ending up in an Alphabet City bar. Here I uncharacteristically started slinging back martinis - perhaps frightened by the prospect that with an empty glass I might be confronted by another bottle of dodgy French salad vinegar.

It was sometime after Hotel Boy started going on about his Hotel Room Thing and several martinis, I believe I decided to start flashing Hotel and the other poor souls who had me in their line of sight my double A breasts. Why? I have no idea. If I owned a pair of double D's, then at least an impromptu stripshow would have made sense. Chatting about the East Village Russian Baths, foot fetishes and future plans to combine both activities must have been the spur - but really that's no excuse. Therefore I'm blaming the lack of sulfates for my ridiculous behaviour.