I still haven't seen the movie The Hangover.
This is okay, because I'm living it. (I know I've said this before, but this time, it's personal.)
This is gross.
The time is now 3:08pm.
I may still be drunk.
I may or may not have kissed a district attorney last night. Whether or not this was to avoid litigation, I do not know.
It turns out I put my lipton iced tea in the freezer, not the fridge, and I'm now staring at it, waiting for it to thaw so I can consume the entire liter.
I am a hot mess. Thank you 99 Below, for not asking me if I want another drink, and instead just magically presenting it before me. Thank you for giving me a bar stool, so that I don't know I'm drunk until I stand up at 3am.
I'd go on and write something actually pithy/witty, but my brain can't move that quickly at the moment, so do your best to fill in the humour.
I'm gonna go vomit and look for my self esteem. Later.
Showing posts with label 99 Below. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 99 Below. Show all posts
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
If I lived in Charlotte....
So, this summer has proven itself to be the Summer of New Lows (more on that later). I'm actually in a place of acceptance, as I roll solo and try to keep myself entertained in this jobless world. Much of my time involves sitting at bar 99 Below, where I chat with Ollie, a 6'6" Irishman who I like to refer to as 'heterosexuality's greatest loss.' He's also, in true Irish fashion, a champion drinker and thanks to him I now have the tolerance of a sailor on leave! Every trip to 99 Below ends with a boost, either from the buzz of too much Jameson, or the meeting of a random, such as the 45-year-old married guy last Tuesday, who told me that the only reason I was single is because men my age can't handle what a dynamic woman I am.
Anyhoo, so Friday night, after a dinner with a friend, I headed to 99 Below.
Yes, by myself.
Yes, at prime bar-hopping hour.
This is no different than walking the streets of Sydney on my own, and at least I get free drinks when I'm at 99. I also find it much more tolerable to interact with strangers than frenemies, so this solo roll is often my own doing.
So, I'm planted at the bar, chatting up Ollie, when these two random dudes come up to order their Budweiser. Ever the enabler, Ollie goes, "you want shots, fellas?" The shorter one with the spikier hair turns to me and asks, "do you want one?" Never one to turn down a free drink, I agree, and of course, the group shot makes us all new best friends.
The DJ is playing early 90s jams, starting with Montell Jordan, and going all the way from Boyz II Men, to ABC, to BBD--the east coast family! We're singing along and their reminiscing about college, and the dudes automatically assume I'm their age, cause I know all the words. They made some joke about "the 25 years olds on the side who just want to hear The Killers," and I fake laughed, waiting for the right moment to tell them I'm in that age bracket.
Spikey haired dude introduces himself as Ryan, and he tells me he's visiting his buddy from Charlotte, NC. His friend Mark, who has lived in NYC 7 years, is quite standoffish, but I don't mind cause he has an overgrown soul patch.
Not one to go down the same road twice, I instantly ask Ryan why he's not wearing his wedding ring. He's taken aback, as he hasn't mentioned a wife. He laughs, and explains that it's back at Mark's house.
"You're good," he says.
Ryan goes on to say how much he loves NYC, and how close he and Mark are. "Seriously, it's my two daughters, then this guy."
Um, what about his wife? I think I need to get Dr. Phil on the horn, cause this marriage sounds like it's full of hate-fucking.
As we talk, and after I reveal my age, Ryan says, "you're the smartest person I've ever talked to at a bar." Clearly, this is true, but it's also sad. What is with men's low standards for people--and women especially? As soon as I string together a sentence--and especially if it ends in a punchline--the dude loses his shit and can't cope. The rest of our conversation was so magical, I feel as though it must be transcribed.
Ryan: What are you doing here by yourself?
Me: I'm a lone wolf.
Ryan: What? You're not here with anyone?
Me: I live on the edge, on the fringes.
Ryan: I don't understand what you're doing here alone.
Mark (suddenly at attention, super excited): Dude, this is what I'm talking 'bout! This is what's so awesome about New York! Hot girls all over the place, none of them have boyfriends. Hot girls, just sitting by themselves, dude!
[I laugh, the sad laughter of a clown]
Ryan (looking wide-eyed and thrown, as though he just found out one of his daughters was pregnant): Dude, that is crazy.
Mark: That's why I fucking love this city!
Ryan (to me): If you were in Charlotte, you'd have 17 boyfriends right now.
Mark: You'd have a husband, 6 kids, and a big ol' house, baby.
Me: Um, can I fly back with you tomorrow, Ry?
[laughter ensues]
Mark: So, does that mean I can take you out for dinner on Sunday?
Me: What?
Mark (to Ryan): See how they do? (to me) Seriously, dinner Sunday?
Me: Oh, I can't, I'm busy.
Mark: What about Monday?
Me: I have an improv class, 7 to 10.
Mark (to Ryan): And that's another thing about New York, dude--every one of them's a fucking actress!!
[They laugh as I playfully hit Mark kinda hard in the shoulder and am not joking at all.]
Me: Whatever, dude. Okay, then, what about Wednesday?
[I'm not even all that interested in this dude, but his reverse psychology is working like a charm, and it really gets my goat when someone hears I'm a blacktress or comedian, and instantly writes off all my positive traits as being "on," or full of shit.]
Mark: Oh, um, I can't. I have to travel for work.
Me: Where?
Mark: I'm going to Dubai.
Me (to Ryan): And that's why I can't date in New York. They've all gotta go to Dubai!!
[laughter ensues]
Ryan: You're seriously the smartest woman I've ever met.
Mark: See, dude? They're all busy though. That's the thing that sucks. They've all got an improv class and a show and an opening, and a wine and cheese party?
Me: What?
Mark: You heard me, wine and cheese!
Me: Whatever, dude, you know you love it. You love that I'm fucking busy, cause it makes you think I'm cool as hell.
[Mark cracks up, and high fives me.]
Me: So, why are you single, if NYC is so great? You're southern and, what, 37? What's your damage?
[Mark laughs again, and Ryan joins in, but neither of them answer. Most curious indeed.]
Mark: You're not free Tuesday?
Me: I thought you leave for Dubai on Tuesday?
Mark: I do, at night.
[What kind of Dubai flight is this, where he can have a dinner date beforehand? Are we going to grab a bite at the Chili's Too in JFK Airport?]
Me: Whatever, call me when you get back.
Mark: That's in, like, a week. This connection will fizzle by then.
[What connection?]
Me: No it won't. You won't meet anyone cooler than me in the next 10 days, let's be real.
[There's much laughter, and Mark high fives me yet again.]
Ryan: You're the smartest woman I've ever met. You should come live in Charlotte.
After 5 free dranks on these two southern gents, I must say, hopping on a midnight train to Charlotte started to look pretty damn good.
Oh, and obvi I have not heard from soul patch. Goes to show that even the most southern of gentlemen can still become tainted by the NYC. You know, the city that never sleeps...with the same girl twice.
Anyhoo, so Friday night, after a dinner with a friend, I headed to 99 Below.
Yes, by myself.
Yes, at prime bar-hopping hour.
This is no different than walking the streets of Sydney on my own, and at least I get free drinks when I'm at 99. I also find it much more tolerable to interact with strangers than frenemies, so this solo roll is often my own doing.
So, I'm planted at the bar, chatting up Ollie, when these two random dudes come up to order their Budweiser. Ever the enabler, Ollie goes, "you want shots, fellas?" The shorter one with the spikier hair turns to me and asks, "do you want one?" Never one to turn down a free drink, I agree, and of course, the group shot makes us all new best friends.
The DJ is playing early 90s jams, starting with Montell Jordan, and going all the way from Boyz II Men, to ABC, to BBD--the east coast family! We're singing along and their reminiscing about college, and the dudes automatically assume I'm their age, cause I know all the words. They made some joke about "the 25 years olds on the side who just want to hear The Killers," and I fake laughed, waiting for the right moment to tell them I'm in that age bracket.
Spikey haired dude introduces himself as Ryan, and he tells me he's visiting his buddy from Charlotte, NC. His friend Mark, who has lived in NYC 7 years, is quite standoffish, but I don't mind cause he has an overgrown soul patch.
Not one to go down the same road twice, I instantly ask Ryan why he's not wearing his wedding ring. He's taken aback, as he hasn't mentioned a wife. He laughs, and explains that it's back at Mark's house.
"You're good," he says.
Ryan goes on to say how much he loves NYC, and how close he and Mark are. "Seriously, it's my two daughters, then this guy."
Um, what about his wife? I think I need to get Dr. Phil on the horn, cause this marriage sounds like it's full of hate-fucking.
As we talk, and after I reveal my age, Ryan says, "you're the smartest person I've ever talked to at a bar." Clearly, this is true, but it's also sad. What is with men's low standards for people--and women especially? As soon as I string together a sentence--and especially if it ends in a punchline--the dude loses his shit and can't cope. The rest of our conversation was so magical, I feel as though it must be transcribed.
Ryan: What are you doing here by yourself?
Me: I'm a lone wolf.
Ryan: What? You're not here with anyone?
Me: I live on the edge, on the fringes.
Ryan: I don't understand what you're doing here alone.
Mark (suddenly at attention, super excited): Dude, this is what I'm talking 'bout! This is what's so awesome about New York! Hot girls all over the place, none of them have boyfriends. Hot girls, just sitting by themselves, dude!
[I laugh, the sad laughter of a clown]
Ryan (looking wide-eyed and thrown, as though he just found out one of his daughters was pregnant): Dude, that is crazy.
Mark: That's why I fucking love this city!
Ryan (to me): If you were in Charlotte, you'd have 17 boyfriends right now.
Mark: You'd have a husband, 6 kids, and a big ol' house, baby.
Me: Um, can I fly back with you tomorrow, Ry?
[laughter ensues]
Mark: So, does that mean I can take you out for dinner on Sunday?
Me: What?
Mark (to Ryan): See how they do? (to me) Seriously, dinner Sunday?
Me: Oh, I can't, I'm busy.
Mark: What about Monday?
Me: I have an improv class, 7 to 10.
Mark (to Ryan): And that's another thing about New York, dude--every one of them's a fucking actress!!
[They laugh as I playfully hit Mark kinda hard in the shoulder and am not joking at all.]
Me: Whatever, dude. Okay, then, what about Wednesday?
[I'm not even all that interested in this dude, but his reverse psychology is working like a charm, and it really gets my goat when someone hears I'm a blacktress or comedian, and instantly writes off all my positive traits as being "on," or full of shit.]
Mark: Oh, um, I can't. I have to travel for work.
Me: Where?
Mark: I'm going to Dubai.
Me (to Ryan): And that's why I can't date in New York. They've all gotta go to Dubai!!
[laughter ensues]
Ryan: You're seriously the smartest woman I've ever met.
Mark: See, dude? They're all busy though. That's the thing that sucks. They've all got an improv class and a show and an opening, and a wine and cheese party?
Me: What?
Mark: You heard me, wine and cheese!
Me: Whatever, dude, you know you love it. You love that I'm fucking busy, cause it makes you think I'm cool as hell.
[Mark cracks up, and high fives me.]
Me: So, why are you single, if NYC is so great? You're southern and, what, 37? What's your damage?
[Mark laughs again, and Ryan joins in, but neither of them answer. Most curious indeed.]
Mark: You're not free Tuesday?
Me: I thought you leave for Dubai on Tuesday?
Mark: I do, at night.
[What kind of Dubai flight is this, where he can have a dinner date beforehand? Are we going to grab a bite at the Chili's Too in JFK Airport?]
Me: Whatever, call me when you get back.
Mark: That's in, like, a week. This connection will fizzle by then.
[What connection?]
Me: No it won't. You won't meet anyone cooler than me in the next 10 days, let's be real.
[There's much laughter, and Mark high fives me yet again.]
Ryan: You're the smartest woman I've ever met. You should come live in Charlotte.
After 5 free dranks on these two southern gents, I must say, hopping on a midnight train to Charlotte started to look pretty damn good.
Oh, and obvi I have not heard from soul patch. Goes to show that even the most southern of gentlemen can still become tainted by the NYC. You know, the city that never sleeps...with the same girl twice.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Random Bloggery
Forgive me readers, for I have sinned.
It has been nearly a week since my last blogged confession.
I’ve been a bit all over the place and unsure of where the nuggets of gold are. So, as I usually do when I don’t know what’s good, I’ve just written some snippets of the latest randomness. Happy Monday!
Little Jackie
When I first heard the Little Jackie song “The World Should Revolve Around Me,” my ears instantly perked up, for I, too, believe it should always be about Sojo. As I listened closer, each line seemed to speak to my soul as a blacktress: “I’ve had a lot of failed relationships / I don’t get involved ‘cause I’m not equipped …” Don’t I know it! I was instantly hooked on this single, and needed to know more. As my internet stalking began, I discovered that Little Jackie is also the genius responsible for “Black Barbie,” one of the finest songs of the 21st century. Imani Coppola is sharp, funny, cheeky, and chill on this album, and I’m totally addicted. I think my favorite jam is “28 Butts.” Sample lyric: “I wanna save a kangaroo from a life in a zoo / I wanna own a llama/ I want less drama in my life / I think I really want to be a happy housewife.”
While I could go on and on expounding her virtues, I know what you all want—Black Barbie. Here it is, for your viewing pleasure:
Can Sojourner Handle his Truth??
I went out on a date with a comedian on Friday night, after meeting him Tuesday night at the Village Lantern. He is really fresh-faced and could be on a CW drama, but has decided to make his way in comedy. He’s pretty funny (he’s no blacktress, but he can hold his own), and I saw him perform again last night. As those who have seen my stand up can attest, I put the whole truth out there on stage. It’s a no-holds-barred, adrenaline-fueled thrill ride—much like Bad Boys or Point Break. I appreciate a funny slice-of-life story, so when this new boy made some joke about how he meets so many girls after his shows, I found myself surprisingly nervous, unable to separate the gag from the TRUTH. Should I really be surprised if that is true (Did I forget to mention he’s fresh-faced)? Should I really be taken aback if he decides to put that truth on stage even if I’m in the audience? It may be that Sojourner can dish it, but can’t take it!
Celebrity Has-Been Sighting
Last night, before supporting the new gentleman caller’s comedy, I hung out at 99 Below, a west village bar with cheap dranks and a bartender who is destined to be my baby’s daddy. Here’s why: he’s Irish, 6’5”, gay as the day is long, and cute as a button on a baby’s blouse! He is, to me, heterosexuality’s greatest loss. But, what he lacks in the desire to procreate with me, he makes up for in the desire to get me wasted on the Lord’s Day (Sunday FUNday!). It was just a few regulars/alkies in the underground bar, and we all turned judgmentally when new people entered. One blondie looking for shots comes in, followed by two middle-aged dudes. Just when it couldn’t get any more random, in walks ANDREW KEEGAN, who joins the girl with the elderly!!!
Yes, folks, Andrew Keegan, the middle school crush of so many. He often played the snotty hot guy in such films as Ten Things I Hate About You, O, and, my personal favorite, Camp Nowhere. Tell me you remember this man:
He looks exactly the same as back in the day, only he’s much greasier. He was wearing a shiny black vest and pinstripe pants, and he is not giving up his signature shaggy hair for nothing. They only came in for a minute, then headed out—I guess, in search of a hipper scene, perhaps one where someone would pay attention to him. Nonetheless, it made my day.
Guess Who’s Going to Dinner?
My boss invited me to dinner at his home, with his wife and kid!! This happens tomorrow! I’m totes freaking out. First of all, I have really serious rules about mingling with work people outside of the office. I feel like I can’t really be myself or discuss most topics because my sheer hatred for the workplace will somehow be accidentally revealed. I don’t know what questions to ask or how to keep up a conversation that’s both interesting and non-incriminating. Even though I only have 8 days of work left (holla!), I feel like I should still be on my best behavior and not burn bridges. What should I bring as a gift? Will a bottle of wine simply reveal my budding alcoholism? I’m thinking a bottle of wine for the adults, and a 6-pack of juice boxes for the youngster. Yes? No? Obviously I will fill you in on how it all goes down.
It has been nearly a week since my last blogged confession.
I’ve been a bit all over the place and unsure of where the nuggets of gold are. So, as I usually do when I don’t know what’s good, I’ve just written some snippets of the latest randomness. Happy Monday!
Little Jackie
When I first heard the Little Jackie song “The World Should Revolve Around Me,” my ears instantly perked up, for I, too, believe it should always be about Sojo. As I listened closer, each line seemed to speak to my soul as a blacktress: “I’ve had a lot of failed relationships / I don’t get involved ‘cause I’m not equipped …” Don’t I know it! I was instantly hooked on this single, and needed to know more. As my internet stalking began, I discovered that Little Jackie is also the genius responsible for “Black Barbie,” one of the finest songs of the 21st century. Imani Coppola is sharp, funny, cheeky, and chill on this album, and I’m totally addicted. I think my favorite jam is “28 Butts.” Sample lyric: “I wanna save a kangaroo from a life in a zoo / I wanna own a llama/ I want less drama in my life / I think I really want to be a happy housewife.”
While I could go on and on expounding her virtues, I know what you all want—Black Barbie. Here it is, for your viewing pleasure:
Can Sojourner Handle his Truth??
I went out on a date with a comedian on Friday night, after meeting him Tuesday night at the Village Lantern. He is really fresh-faced and could be on a CW drama, but has decided to make his way in comedy. He’s pretty funny (he’s no blacktress, but he can hold his own), and I saw him perform again last night. As those who have seen my stand up can attest, I put the whole truth out there on stage. It’s a no-holds-barred, adrenaline-fueled thrill ride—much like Bad Boys or Point Break. I appreciate a funny slice-of-life story, so when this new boy made some joke about how he meets so many girls after his shows, I found myself surprisingly nervous, unable to separate the gag from the TRUTH. Should I really be surprised if that is true (Did I forget to mention he’s fresh-faced)? Should I really be taken aback if he decides to put that truth on stage even if I’m in the audience? It may be that Sojourner can dish it, but can’t take it!
Celebrity Has-Been Sighting
Last night, before supporting the new gentleman caller’s comedy, I hung out at 99 Below, a west village bar with cheap dranks and a bartender who is destined to be my baby’s daddy. Here’s why: he’s Irish, 6’5”, gay as the day is long, and cute as a button on a baby’s blouse! He is, to me, heterosexuality’s greatest loss. But, what he lacks in the desire to procreate with me, he makes up for in the desire to get me wasted on the Lord’s Day (Sunday FUNday!). It was just a few regulars/alkies in the underground bar, and we all turned judgmentally when new people entered. One blondie looking for shots comes in, followed by two middle-aged dudes. Just when it couldn’t get any more random, in walks ANDREW KEEGAN, who joins the girl with the elderly!!!
Yes, folks, Andrew Keegan, the middle school crush of so many. He often played the snotty hot guy in such films as Ten Things I Hate About You, O, and, my personal favorite, Camp Nowhere. Tell me you remember this man:
He looks exactly the same as back in the day, only he’s much greasier. He was wearing a shiny black vest and pinstripe pants, and he is not giving up his signature shaggy hair for nothing. They only came in for a minute, then headed out—I guess, in search of a hipper scene, perhaps one where someone would pay attention to him. Nonetheless, it made my day.
Guess Who’s Going to Dinner?
My boss invited me to dinner at his home, with his wife and kid!! This happens tomorrow! I’m totes freaking out. First of all, I have really serious rules about mingling with work people outside of the office. I feel like I can’t really be myself or discuss most topics because my sheer hatred for the workplace will somehow be accidentally revealed. I don’t know what questions to ask or how to keep up a conversation that’s both interesting and non-incriminating. Even though I only have 8 days of work left (holla!), I feel like I should still be on my best behavior and not burn bridges. What should I bring as a gift? Will a bottle of wine simply reveal my budding alcoholism? I’m thinking a bottle of wine for the adults, and a 6-pack of juice boxes for the youngster. Yes? No? Obviously I will fill you in on how it all goes down.
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