Let's start here: I now love Elizabeth Banks (of Seth and Miri Make a Porno fame) for openly discussing douchebags on network television and leading me to an awesome webpage called hotchickswithdouchebags.
hehe...I just learned an awesome new adjective and noun: uberscrote.
So I went to this bar last night to see a friend who came in from out of town and put my coat on top of a bench in a pile of coats in the middle of the room. I stepped out for 5 minutes, came back, and discovered that my coat was missing. Inside my (favorite and irreplaceable) coat? My phone and my keys. What THE FUCK. I had to ask my out of town guest to stay with a friend in brooklyn and I had to crash at my friend's house in the Upper West Side for 3 hours before dragging my ass home.
Other than that, my New Year's weekend was pretty frickin' awesome. 7 folks from SC, SF, Chi-town, and NJ traveled up here and we made a run at the city. We had a smashingly good dinner at this tapas joint called Alta and lounged over sangria until we made our way over to this club called Pressure, where we quickly raided the open bar and built ourselves a stash of about 15 extra drinks in the corner. Quickly and ferociously, we derided the legions of Steves (who all dressed as if they were going to the office) and Stephs as we lapped our way through the open bar until the ball dropped. (...uh, then we got kicked out and went home.) Then, inexplicably, we lost one of our own. Whipping out the cell, I sent the text: "Hey, where the hell are you?" "Coyote Ugly."
We then got drunk at Coyote Ugly.
On Thursday, I woke up at 4 pm and feeling like I was going to die...we sat six deep in my living room trying desperately not to die, watching Planet Earth. After we managed to get ourselves right, we wandered uptown towards Rockefeller Center to see the big tree, then over to Times Square to witness the giant clusterfuck that is Times Square, marveled at the insanity of any person who waited outside for 9 hours the night before to watch the ball drop without alcohol, and then wandered over to St. Marks to eat a totally shit-tastic dinner at a shit-tastic place with food and serve that tasted like...poo. Then we drank ourselves to sleep at home at 4am.
Friday, we painfully dragged ourselves up around noon and tried to get over to Ippudo Ramen (best ever ramen best ever ramen best ever ramen), which we found was closed (FUCKERS)...but managed to snag ourselves instant seating, pizza, and beers at Otto, one of Mario Batali's lower-end restaurants. We followed up with a lazy walk around the West Village, stopping off for some beers at the Slaughtered Lamb, and then trekked back across to Soho where Nik managed to recession-rob some stores out of tons of merchandise. Then, we made it back to my place where we sat dazed, exhausted, and completely beat and eating Veniero's Cheesecake...that is...until we decided to put on some good ol' top-40 pop through (my super awesome) loud speakers, and what began with Rihanna's Don't Stop the Music became a shit show of all of the best/worst rap and hip hop ever...after which point we got ourselves all energized-likes and the girls decided that some dancing was in store. So we took a short walk down to Spitzer's Corner on the Lower East Side, managed to grab a perfect table in what was otherwise a total madhouse, and managed to grab yet another great meal, followed by a trip to a random swank lounge/club called Ella...which is velvet rope, dressy, and annoying about guy/girl ratios, but we managed to get into purely on A's sweet talking ability. Then we basically danced and drank for a couple more hours then stumbled home. After getting home, apparently went back to Coyote Ugly while I did my best Samwell impression while blaring What What (In The Butt).
Then we got up, chain smoked, drank coffee, ate croissants, packed, and sent most of 'em packing...after which point I sat on the couch watching The Wire while Mike wandered off to Magnolias. Then, of course, I went out drinking again with some old and new friends in brooklyn until I ended up in Chelsea at the DOUCHEBAG SPOT WHERE MY SHIT GOT STOLEN.
ok...enough mindless narrative for one day. I suppose I just wanted to keep a diary of the weekend, because it was fun.
11 comments:
you dirty whore. we apparently crossed paths all weekend, and you made it your life's mission to avoid me.
result: SHUN. this is your notice that you will be shunned for the next 8 years. that sounds like a good, round number, right?
Don't hate. Where did we cross paths?
She calls them "guidos". Isn't that a racial slur?
Are you asking me whether she's even cooler than I initially claimed because she's also racist? Because if that's the case, yes.
Yes, btw that was me. I just didn't want to link into my blog from work with my real ID. (Incidentally, I wrote this same exact message 10 seconds ago and it was posted by ADM, hence the deleted comment.)
don't make fun of steves.
DA
P.S. I haven't checked this blog in probably 6 mos. Glad it is still kickin.
Yea! awesome weekend, can't wait to post my tea bag pics
ok, Jay Leno needs to STFU. he's trying to call that "women like danger" card to someone who's describing the HCWD blog?!?! What a tool.
Also, you lost your coat in Chelsea? What a tool :}
heh.
heh.
heh. Fuck you.
Previous music post response:
I know that you aren't hardcore enough anymore to appreciate recommendations like Bikini Kill, so in your current pansy state, I humbly suggest Amelia by Joni Mitchell. Actually the whole Hejira album is pretty good. These songs were strangely apropos whilst I was roaming the country.
RS
P.S. How come you are still listed as a "law clerk?"
P.P.S. You're a tool.
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