So Long, annoying party-goers

Went to a friend's birthday drink in Chinatown tonight. It was at some dive on Orchard St with a blank awning and no heat and a lone 20-something bartender playing tunes from his iPod. But okay, decidedly cosy when fat snowflakes are falling outside and So Long, Marianne comes on and I am eating the spare ribs and dumplings I just had delivered and talking with Friend (capital F) about that girl thing of needing to be good and needing to be kind and what ensues from that.

And then something happened that doesn't often anymore: we all came back to mine. Well, not my own dorm room but another in the building, with the very same floor plan but whose occupants were masochistic and charitable enough to mash the two beds into a corner and make one wing of the ell into a very congenial living room. Partying at home can of course turn a sober boredom into a willingness to socialize into the wee hours, except that friend and friend got into a REALLY ANNOYING whiny is your half bigger than mine? logistical dispute about drug and I and went to bed.