Clio sent me a picture of her almost decapitated pinky about two hours before we were suppose to go to dinner at The Ivy. She managed to slice her finger, and part of her nail, with a peeler at work the day before. But it wasn't that bad in reality. It's just that she used this protective rubber sock that looked like a miniature condom over the bandage, which had consequentially suffocated the cut and made the entire skin around it damp and frosty-looking.
T: It doesn't look THAT bad.
C: It looks really bad.
C: I'm just worried, that I already fucked it up - like it's really infected. Does it look infected from the picture?
T: No, it just looks very damp - the skin that is. It's not that bad.
C: It's numb though.
T: Just put a new bandage on it and let's go to dinner. And then when we go back to my place to park the car I will properly take care of your finger and then we can go out.
C: Ok, fuck.
T: I used to be a male nurse.
T: I'm joking, that's not true...
T: At least not the male part.
C: Liar! Why'd you tell me you were!?
T: But I know what to do...
C: You don't think I need to see a doctor? HONESTLY!
C: Please don't tell me that I don't need to just because you want to hang out!
C: I literally need my fingers. I'm a guitar player.
T: I'll see it when I get to your place and if I think it's bad I'll take you to the ER.
C: Okay. I might not be totally ready at 8:15. This has really thrown a wrench on my plans.
T: Try to be, at least by 8:30.
T: I heard the ER is only accepting people till 9.
C: OMG lol.
C: Also uhh, how nice should I look?
After The Ivy, we went to the Highlight, a new rooftop club on top of the new Dream Hotel on Selma and Cahuenga, and then to Liaison where we joined Michael Utsinger and Ivy Levan, and then we went with everyone there to Bar Sinister.