Great Night Followed by Shitty Morning

This weekend has been great. I got a framed picture of a painting done by Dave Brockie that he signed "Oderus" (he's Oderus Urungus from Gwar for those of you not in the know). Why? Cause him and Mike Derks in his Ballsac the Jaws of Death persona were in Brooklyn the past 2 nights hosting the Crack-A-Thon. It was a little art show/hosting show of sorts? I dunno. It was basically an excuse for the two of them to blase obnoxious mock-German techno and interview whoever their guest per showing was. I went with Jared and Desiree. Of course, out of all the cool people they mentioned they already had as guests and all the guest coming the day after, we get gypt. They talked with Lloyd Kaufman, creator of the Toxic Avenger, and some dude dressed up as Toxie (read that as it apparently was just Lloyd and Oderus Urungus mocking each other the entire hour), they prank called Jello Biafra, they had Jamey Jasta come (not like I even like Hatebreed or anything) and they were having Andrew WK come to play piano and some other shit the next night (not that I care about Andrew WK, but I'm sure his antics would be amusing).

Who did we have? This girl whose name was something like Reverend Jen? I don't remember. Also, I had met her before. YEARS ago, when Dennis was interning with that Anarchy/Comedy Troupe who went by the name Toolz of the New School (remember those Guliani is a Jerk stickers? Yea, they made those... I think TJ still has that sticker on his bass... if he still has his bass). She still wears those fucking troll ears and talks all retarded sounding like a troll too. I think the only highlights of the night with her were when they guy working the projector put up a picture of her house (she's a big troll doll collector or something) and Oderus Urungus looked at the picture and goes "I wouldn't wanna fucking live there." When she asked why, he responded "it looks like someone wiped their ass all over your walls." The other part was, when she was reading a passage from her book that she wrote (which is basically abouse sexually depraved incident after sexually depraved incident), the phrase "3 un-princess like orgasms" was introduced to my vocabulary. OH YEA, and how can I forget this litle gem of stupidity pulled by Brockie. This girl was droning on about God knows what, and Brockie just falls, face first onto the floor, smashing through his mock interviewing table. People didn't know what to do, and as Jen, or whever the fuck that freak bitch's name was, starts to help him up, Derks just goes "don't help him, he falls all the time."

Fast forward to not getting the re-release of Sick of it All's first 7" or any of Pantera's re-releases on vinyl because unlike normal people, I work on weekends and get fucked in the long run as usual. What I'm trying to say in my half witted, barely sober mind is that shit was sold out and the girl behind the counter sarcastically told me "you're like, 8 hours late for that, dude." I looked at her, brow furrowing, and retorted back with, "Yea, you see, some of us have to work on weekends, if you're capable of realizing the fact you yourself are working right now. I couldn't make it. There's none left?" But, of course, I already knew the answer was no. Fucker.

Oh, and me in a good mood, you ask? How can I forget I found xanadu? Where you ask? Kate's in the east village. Jaerd and Desiree introduced me to the place. I've heard the name a million times, but I couldn't figure out why. It is a bar, with an all vegetarian/vegan menu, and I was then informed while eating, that this is the place Danzig throws all his post-NYC concert after parties. Sir, I don't think I have to inform you that the mixture of booze, good eating and Danzig make me as happy as a bear rolling in a bathtub full of porridge. I ordered this thing called the McKate. If you couldn't tell by the "Mc" in the title, it was their answer to McDonalds. BUt what? It was a fucking vegan Big Mac. Dude, not only was it amazingly awesome to the max, but it was amazingly awesome to the max. I need to go to that place as much as possible. I may just start showing up to Jared's unexpected like a fucking crack head just as an excuse to go there more... that or find someone else besides him and Desiree who wouldn't mind eating there and getting drunk.

Oh, and last night, I don't even remember most of it. I remember meeting up Dan later, then Ken met us up. Ken is GONE already from hanging out with these scum he knows. They keep feeding him shots, and finally Dan tells him to stop taking shots and get some coffee. Scott at this point is taking shots of tequila away from Ken and it dawns upon me that Scott is already a few gin and sodas in and then there was that vicodin... and I just say to myself I better not have to lug his dumb ass around in a few hours. No, no. I was the idiot this night. I don't remeber much. We went to the dreg bar across the street from where we were and Scott is ordering us shots of tequila. More tequila. And then some more tequila. Doubles of vodka soda and tequila is all that's in me. Maybe a slice or cheese too? I can't remember. I don't recall eating anything yesterday since whenever it was I went across the street to get lunch/have an excuse to oogle at the boobs on the girl who works there (Yes, I'm a classy mother fucker). But yea, where was I? Oh yea, so, Romil eventually meets us up after his date to say what's up before he goes home since he was in the area. At this point, I'm so drunk I'm opening the top of the tank to the toilet bowl in the bar and pissing in it, so when people flush, more piss comes out. Why I did this, I dunno. Maybe cause I thought it would be funny to do an upper decker, but couldn't muster up a turd, so I decided the consolation prize I'd give them was a tank full of piss. Yes, fucking tequila. I see Romil and all I really remember was hugging him and apologizing for I don't even remember what. Possibly for being an idiot? Who knows. You could tell Romil wanted to tell Dan or Scott to take my keys away from me, but if you just knew none of us were capable of driving so whatever.

The night ended with the Scott, Dan and I walking aimlessly looking for the car, as Dan is yelling at the two of us that not only did we walk a circle in the wrong direction trying to find the bar, but we can't even find my car, after I texted myself the corner it was near knowing I would forget where I parked it. Finally find it and head uptown to Inwood to drop off Dan. Instead, we go to Fidel's to get food. I stay in the car while Dan and Scott run in to grab some grub. As Dan and Scott were coming out, they were horrified to see me, standing in the street, dick just hanging out of my pants, as I am pissing all over the place and Dan just looks at me and goes "OH COME ON! Fuck this, I'm going home, talk to you later," and stormed off into that gentle night.

Scott eventually got in the car and we're such messes we just shoved food in our mouths like neanderthals. I'm sure if you were there, all you'd hear was grunting and heavy breathing as we ate the fuck out of our food. All else I recall was me driving with one eye open and then waking up this morning not remembering how I got to my bed... or home for that matter.

Writing this, it makes me think that I should compile a book of my best tequila fused stories and publish it with the title "The Tequila Cronicles". I mean, Hunter S. Thompson had the Rum Diary, why can't I have this? Yes? I figure if I did go through with it, it would just mean I'd go to Scott's, kill off that bottle of Montezuma Tequila I bought as a half-joke, and then go out and bring my Flip with me so even if I get black out drunk, the flip will catch the majority of myh antics. Maybe I should. I could write off my bar tabs as a business expense, right? Someone needs to get on my ass about this, cause if you know me, you know I am one lazy mother fucker.

Cinco De Hot Sauce

So, yesterday was apparently to celebrate a country's one win in a war and whose plague is now destroying us all. How do we celebrate? by destroying our livers and assholes (and get stomach aches with all that damn sour mix in those fucking margaritas, ugh). 

Anyway, to quote Aker once again, "Ramy + Tequila = Ratings." I'm also learning that equation also equals foggy memory of what I even did as I wake up. I had to jog my memory for about an hour to try and remember what I did... Twitter helps too.

My day started out with me taking the train as usual into Manhattan to meet up for what Dan said was going to be epic (or something along those lines). I took the train in an hour earlier than usual because I figured I better get my drink on a bit earlier if I was gonna try and catch the last train back to my neck of the woods. I refereed to this as day light savings for alcoholism. 

On the train, I sat down and notice the 2 guys across from me were looking out of place. One, a mid to late 60's, white hair, thick glasses with matching mustache. The other, a buzzed haired overweight son-like figure to the older guy. Both were drinking a 6 pack of Sam Adams Summer ale. Besides the out of place look of the two of them, they were wearing green. The son was wearing one of those ugly green Yankees shirts with a shamrock on it, it said Jeter on the back to make it even more fruity and weird. This felt like a fucking flashback of me and Scott getting on the train back 2 months for St Patrick's day. 

I know words couldn't do justice, so I snapped a quick photo of the son while they  weren't paying attention to my direction for a second:

After waiting at Secaucus for the damn transfer train to take me to Penn Station and begin my slaying of drunken crowds, the train FINALLY came, I criss crossed with subways and walked a few blocks. Ended up meeting Romil up at Calico Jack's for lack of a better idea. (bad idea to go to a mexican themed bar on a day of a mexican themed drinking excuse). Well, being that we got there so early, it wasn't so bad in the beginning. 3 dollar margaritas sound like a good, cheap, idea, but in hindsight, not so much. After 2 I started getting a stomach ache and had a strong feeling that if I kept it up with them I'd end up getting into a fight (possibly with myself). This is where we met Dina. The shot girl. Generic, decent looking skank who is trying to push her shots on you. I see right through that shit. I told Romil she's a snake and not to get a drink from her. 3 times in less than 2 minutes she must've came up to us and bugged the shit out of us to get drinks. I basically told her repeatedly to fuck off and bother someone else who is too drunk to know any better. Around this time is when it became so over crowded that you couldn't even move. After realizing, this is what the bar looked liked:

We had to get a table. Apparently getting a table meant you had to order food, which we didn't really have any qualms with until we got the check. We ordered jalapeno poppers and vegetable nachos. after we finished the first beers we had while eating, and wondering where our waitress was to order more, Romil called over that annoying shot girl and ordered 2 shots of tequila to pass the time while we wait for the waitress. First of all, she told us shots were like 2 dollars. Then she convinced Romil to buy her a shot. Mistakes 1 and 2 were made right there, especially with the way the shot girls are whore pieces of shit there that'll do anything to swindle you out of more money. OH, but here's the kicker of swindling us. So, after we realize she gave us fucking sugary peach schnapps and NOT tequila like we asked, she goes "no, it's tequila. it's flavored." I said that we weren't retarded and knew what tequila and peach schnapps taste like, and that was definitely peach schnapps. She apologized... THEN, Romil paid, she said to us "um, I need 6 more dollars." Romil, confused, asked, "um, why?" She then went on to go "oh, I made a mistake, the jello shots are 2 dollars, these are 4." I go "excuse me?" Romil looked at me cause he was out of singles, so I paid her and didn't even look at her, like a whore who just got finished doing her job. I could tell she sat there for a second waiting for a tip but I just went right back to eating and ignored her til she finally left us alone.

We ordered drinks, but it went from fun playful drinking to angry, I wanna strangle that thieving whore kinda drinking. Romil ordered two large shots of tequila, a corona for him and a stella for me (cause I fucking loath corona, and basically any mexican beer except for modelo).

Things that went on while we were finishing our beers. The Corona Girls showed up. They weren't that good looking, but this one that gave Romil a little mexican poncho to put on his bottle. Did I mention the one who did this had tit's the size of Romil's head. I was trying not to laugh/stare, but i couldn't help. She leaned forward and they each sized up to his head. Here's the only shot i could snap of her, cause Scott demanded a picture when I told him:

Other than that, there was some really ugly kid working there walking around with a sombrero and poncho. I couldn't get a good shot of him, cause he obviously was trying to avoid me taking a picture of him... the photo doesn't do justice cause you can't see these nasty boil-like zits he had:

Anyway, we finished our food, our table was cleaned up by this Aussie that I kept calling Steve Irwin and I didn't even know he was an aussie until he opened his mouth and we heard his retarded aussie accent (sorry, I didn't take a picture of him). But yea, we left to meet up Dan where he told us to meet him originally. As we were forging our way through the brush of alcoholics, the shot girl smiled at Romil and said thanks. I on the other hand was fighting the blind and drunken rage to shove her and make her spill all her drinks. I was going to shove her or elbow her. Instead, I did a win-win shove of me thrusting my crotch into her ass as I left (both wins were obviously for me). On the walk out we were bullshitting about how I was right to not deal with the shot girls in that bar (last time we were in there i basically shot down the shot girl so bad that the bartender enjoyed watching and bought us free drinks, which turned into us getting so drunk we got kicked out). Just for laughs, here's a picture of a building being built that Romil pointed out. If you don't think this looks like a fucking set of cock and balls, your mind isn't as dirty as mine:

(and thus concludes the photo portion of this blog, mainly because I was too drunk and busy being a fool... and it was fucking crowded everywhere). 

When we finally made it to the place we were to meet Dan, we realized there wasn't even a line forming down the street like the last bar, but that the patrons were just pouring out into the street cause it was so over crowded. We said fuck it and decided to meet up Dan elsewhere. We decided on TJ Whitney's, basically because they usually have 2 for one deals during happy hour. Only deals they seemed to have were over crowded walk room and 4 dollars for mexican beers. Another lesson was that all you need to crowd your bar on that day is either be a mexican themed bar, OR in TJ Whitney's case, just drape a corona banner across your marque and drunks will flourish. I took some girl's drink that was undrank and left unattended. She said it was ok, I wasn't a complete scumbag as usual this time. 

Dan finally met us up. we Drank another round, and wandered off to Sutton Place. Sutton Place sucked, and the roof was overpriced as always so we didn't even order a drink and left. We went to Opal. It smelled in there. The main part smelt, like i said in a twitter update, redbull, mexican farts and depression. The back room smelt like sweaty arabs, BAD. The bar was full of drunk messes. For a while, I couldn't turn my eyes away from the train wreck which was these two drunk, girls with guts, dancing. But anyway, we finally found some open seats at the bar, so me and Dan sat down, and then began quoting lines from Glengarry Glen Ross because he made reference to the seats being "prime real estate" (I guess you had to see the movie to know what the fuck I'm talking about right here, I guess you can see the main scene we kept quoting right here). While sitting there, we watched the Yankees suck it up and kept talking with these two crazy black guys. One was hilarious saying how he liked one player because he seemed like the kinda guy who would do blow with you or even  join in on a gang bang and not tell your wife the next day. Haaa. Besides sitting around to listen to these two loons rant about insane shit, the fact that it was buy one get one free on drinks was good. I had no one to share my drinks with, so while dan and Romil went back and forth buying a round for the two of them, I was double fisting gin and tonics.

After the deal on bogo drinks (ugh, I hate that term "bogo" but am too lazy) we left, to walk in the rain back to sutton place to clear our minds and set a new goal on what to do/where to go. Dan and Romil got beers and I got another gin and tonic... a gin and tonic I had to chug as fast as possible cause as soon as we ordered them Dan was like "ok, lets leave here and go elsewhere."

I am pretty sure the taxi driver dealing with us was not pleased. The fact he was wearing a turban and kept correcting Dan's pronunciation of Indian words/names are what I'm going on here. Why? Because Dan kept yelling Slumdog Millionaire references the whole time in the car. That and he was laughing his ass off so hard and basically banging his fists against the protective window between the driver and passengers whenever Romil would make Bill Duke references repeatedly throughout the car ride to our final destination.

What was our final destination? This all asian bar Romil and I met Dan and some of his co-workers at a few weeks back  (I probably mentioned it a while ago in one of my older blogs). I think it was called Tornado Bar, or at least that's what we call it. We walk in apparently one of us ordered a round of skittle shots. It was basically a shot of flavored vodka depending on what color skittle your got dropped into the bottom of your shot glass, which you then had to drop into a glass of red bull. The girl asked "doesn't it taste like a skittle?" My response, "Yea, cause a fucking skittle just dropped into my mouth that I'm chewing on now." She kinda had this look of being upset. Odd thing though about that bar last night was that instead of the usual all asian clientele and patrons, it was us 3, some white guy from minesota trying to find a job in NY (yea, drinking by yourself in a bar in a highly asian demographic area is how you find a job). The bartenders were some white girl from wisconsin and some russian girl straight from siberia. The minesota guy kept trying to bond with both girls using his 'we come from cold climate areas' as a hit off point. This is where the evening is blur-tastic. I recall the guy trying to tell me he went to high school with some of the guys from Atmosphere (I guess he meant when they were Urban Atmosphere cause there was more than 2 guys back then... like 3 guys). I was way to out of it to pick his brain and call him out on that though.I recall talking with some girl about God knows what. Come to think of it, I can't recall what any girl looked like that I talked to last night. I think one of them had blond hair, but that's all I remember, that and I think she said I was funny. Eh, whatever.

I recall being dragged by Dan out of the subway to take a cab, which didn't make sense cause I needed to walk a few blocks to Penn from where we were. Then I recall it REALLY POURING HARDCORE as I ran down the streets of manhattan to get into Penn Station. I missed one train and ran from one side to the other to catch the last train to Secaucus Junction before the last train home headed outta there. Weird was, I walk in and the dad and son from earlier in the day were sitting there. I shake my head and go "i can't fucking believe this." I kept getting stares as I was out of breath and sopping wet with rain water. I recall kinda nodding off on the train listening to my ipod.

I staggered off the the train, walked home in the rain and immediately stripped down to my boxers to throw my jacket and clothes in the dryer before I passed out in my bed, only to wake up this morning and ask myself "why did I drink so much?"

All in all, it was kinda lackluster and I apologize that this first real blog on this website sucks... and it's fucking long, Jesus.

EDIT: How the fuck could I forget about what happened on the last part of the night before I got off the train? Ok, so, I sit down, minding my own business. I accidentally spit on this guy sitting across from me. I just shrugged and said "i seriously did not to mean spit on you." For some reason he then goes off about how he is related to this guy and that guy on some reality television shows. I mentioned to him that I don't watch reality tv but that didn't stop him from telling me his life story of how his friends think he could be on a reality tv show and bla bla bla, then he goes on telling me how he's french and a cook. Once again, i don't care. Telling me his stories of this and that, this and that. He finally gets off the car and says good bye. Then some guy Kurt ("K-U-R-T, like Kurt Cobain," is how he told me his name)  comes and gives me his number. Why is it I men give me their numbers more often than women? The hell? I cannot stress this enough that I am not gay. Sorry, NO.

And without further adieu, I say good day sirs and madams, til next drunken escapade.