After trying to recover from teh hangover for half the day, Josh and I decided to head into Manhattan to buy CD's, DVD's and Stephen Colbert's Americone Dream Ice Cream. I boght my box sete of Ghostbusters I and II back (it had been stolen 2 years ago), and Josh bought an Elvis Costello record or two. Approaching 8th Ave., Josh spotted a place called "DVD Palace" nad persuaded me to check it out with him.
The first thing I noticed upon entering was the staircase leading downstairs with a neon "Adult Section" sign glowing in the midday sun coming through the door. The man working the door stopped Josh and I and asked if we had ever been there before and thsi is what happens...
Doorman: "You two ever been here before?"
Josh: "Uh, no. Is thsi stuff to rent or to buy?"
Doorman: "No, we don't rent anything man. It's all to buy."
Josh: "Oh, ok. Good. That's what we want."
Doorman: "Ok, well, let me tell you about the place. Up here are all our karate movies, and then here you've got all our adult movies which you can take into the booths right here and watch 'em, and If you decide you like 'em, you can buy 'em. Downstairs are all our new releases.
Josh: "Uh, ok. Thanks."
Realizing that this is not the kind of place we were hoping for, we hold out hope a moment longer to go check out the new releases which we come to discover are intermixed with condoms, jellies and dildos.
After we left the store we proceeded up 8th Ave. in search of the ice cream and find that every other storefront is advertising some form of adult entertainment.
6.10.2007
Wild Night (Night 33)
9pm - It's 9pm and I can't get in touch with Joe, who I have plans to go out with. I look at Josh and ask, "Josh, do you want to go get drunk?" "Kind of," he replies. Cait tells us to go have a guys nite and Josh and I don't hesitate to oblige her.
10pm - After a train ride intot eh Village and a stop to get cash, Josh and I make it to Bar None - a bar which promises $2 drinks every nite from 11pm to midnite. We order a drink inside, where it seems to empty to be a bar in New York. Josh's Guinness is $6, my Whiskey and Coke is $5.
10:32pm - A shot girl comes up to us offering something orage with vodka or a Jagerbomb. I choose the Jagerbomb. Through the flirting she's required to go through with me, I find out that she's a Penn State, marketing student. She mentions something about an internship in the city, but I don't remember much of what she said about it. I can only guess selling overpriced shots to eager twenty-somethings is what she meant.
11:01pm - Josh orders a $2 Whiskey and Soda Water. I try to order 5 of my drinks and the bartender tells me they have to give them to me one at a time during the special.
11:04pm - I order my third drink.
11:08pm - My fourth drink and a call from Joe telling me he and his girlfriend are heading into Manhattan to meet up with us by around midnite. Along comes drink number five.
11:15pm - A girl named Jacqueline approaches Josh and I and tells us she's the event planner for the bar. She asks us how we like the place and we tell her we like it fine. I give her a fake name as Josh fills out the mailing list. Afterwards, Jacqueline buys Josh and I each a drink.
11:30pm - After six drinks and a shot, I'm starting to think I should slow down. I find the restroom, and after my go, man the table as Josh has his.
11:45pm - Jacqueline comes back and asks us where our drinks are. I tell her I've had seven already. She buys Josh and I another each.
12:02am - Joe arrives and the four of us decide to go to a place he describes as "a Johnny Cash bar."
12:25am - We enter Doc Holiday's (the Johnny Cash bar) and find seats at the bar. Joe tells me to order four PBR pounders and tells me I'll be surprised at how cheap it is. I order the beers and he's right, I am surprised - $16 is far too cheap for four PBR's.
12:32am - "Ring of Fire" comes on the jukebox, and the stocky, suicide girl of a bartender jumps on the bar laces a shot in her mouth and ignites it, causing a fireball to erupt. She then sprays the crowd down with seltzer water.
12:44am - Joe orders another round of beers.
1:15am - I order another round of beers.
1:35am - I make my way to the bathroom. After, I put a dollar in the jukebox which contains no records by what you would call "modern" artists, and what the juke does have hasn't been released since 1972 save the one Johnny Cash record from the oughts it has. I pick two songs, but somehow notice that I have ten more plays. I tell some douchebag ina polo shirt that I have plays left if he wants.
2am - Joe orders what will be our final round at the bar. He tells me about job offers he's gotten, and speaks highly of his girlfriend, who earlier inthe evening I asked ot teach me Russian. I don't remember her response.
2:30am - We depart the bar and suddenly my drunkenness kicks into overdrive. I start calling random girls, "baby" and tell some random guy on the street to "leave me the fuck alone." A few blocks later some girls on a balcony that I cna't see start shouting into the street, "I can see you!" I lie and shout back, "I can see you!" We go back and forth for a few minutes until I spot a bike on the street and try to steal it - turns out it's chained though.
2:40am - I see another bike and try to steal it until I notice a bottle of wine housed in it's basket. Upon finding out the bottle is empty, I smash it on the sidewalk.
2:50am - We arrive at 4th ave. and after goodbyes that seem to take ten minutes, begin to art ways. I see a guy at the corner, and ask, "where the fuck did you come from?" My friends apologize for me.
3am - I tell Josh I'm hungry and find an open food cart. I order up a chicken kebab and with food in mouth proclaim, "you are the man! seriously, you rule!" to the vendor.
3:04am - Josh and I head into the subway but it turns out my metrocard expired at midnite. We walk across the street to the station with an open card machine and buy myself a one trip ticket. The sensation of needing to relieve the biggest piss int eh world hits me as we get to our platform.
3:20am - While standing I stumble and Josh gets scared that I'll fall onto the train tracks. he tells me to lean against the subway map as a lonely saxophone begins to play. "This is awesome!" I say. I begin improvising words and singing along. I don't remember any of it, but Josh tells me, "well, the saxophone was good."
3:40am - The Q train arrives and Josh and I get on it. I have no recoolection of anything until we arrive at our stop half an hour later when, surprisingly, Josh is able to wake me up, and even more surprisingly, I haven't pissed myself.
4:20am - We get back tot eh apartment. In the midst of taking off my clothes, I launch a quarter from the inside pocket of my jeans across the room. It seems like the coolest thing ever at the time, but i pass out anyway.
10am - I wake up with the worst headache known to man to the sounds of pots and pans as I groan, "Ow!" from the couch. Cait tells me she's making blueberry pancakes and bacon and that their's Orange Juice in the fridge. Josh and Cait are the best people ever.
10pm - After a train ride intot eh Village and a stop to get cash, Josh and I make it to Bar None - a bar which promises $2 drinks every nite from 11pm to midnite. We order a drink inside, where it seems to empty to be a bar in New York. Josh's Guinness is $6, my Whiskey and Coke is $5.
10:32pm - A shot girl comes up to us offering something orage with vodka or a Jagerbomb. I choose the Jagerbomb. Through the flirting she's required to go through with me, I find out that she's a Penn State, marketing student. She mentions something about an internship in the city, but I don't remember much of what she said about it. I can only guess selling overpriced shots to eager twenty-somethings is what she meant.
11:01pm - Josh orders a $2 Whiskey and Soda Water. I try to order 5 of my drinks and the bartender tells me they have to give them to me one at a time during the special.
11:04pm - I order my third drink.
11:08pm - My fourth drink and a call from Joe telling me he and his girlfriend are heading into Manhattan to meet up with us by around midnite. Along comes drink number five.
11:15pm - A girl named Jacqueline approaches Josh and I and tells us she's the event planner for the bar. She asks us how we like the place and we tell her we like it fine. I give her a fake name as Josh fills out the mailing list. Afterwards, Jacqueline buys Josh and I each a drink.
11:30pm - After six drinks and a shot, I'm starting to think I should slow down. I find the restroom, and after my go, man the table as Josh has his.
11:45pm - Jacqueline comes back and asks us where our drinks are. I tell her I've had seven already. She buys Josh and I another each.
12:02am - Joe arrives and the four of us decide to go to a place he describes as "a Johnny Cash bar."
12:25am - We enter Doc Holiday's (the Johnny Cash bar) and find seats at the bar. Joe tells me to order four PBR pounders and tells me I'll be surprised at how cheap it is. I order the beers and he's right, I am surprised - $16 is far too cheap for four PBR's.
12:32am - "Ring of Fire" comes on the jukebox, and the stocky, suicide girl of a bartender jumps on the bar laces a shot in her mouth and ignites it, causing a fireball to erupt. She then sprays the crowd down with seltzer water.
12:44am - Joe orders another round of beers.
1:15am - I order another round of beers.
1:35am - I make my way to the bathroom. After, I put a dollar in the jukebox which contains no records by what you would call "modern" artists, and what the juke does have hasn't been released since 1972 save the one Johnny Cash record from the oughts it has. I pick two songs, but somehow notice that I have ten more plays. I tell some douchebag ina polo shirt that I have plays left if he wants.
2am - Joe orders what will be our final round at the bar. He tells me about job offers he's gotten, and speaks highly of his girlfriend, who earlier inthe evening I asked ot teach me Russian. I don't remember her response.
2:30am - We depart the bar and suddenly my drunkenness kicks into overdrive. I start calling random girls, "baby" and tell some random guy on the street to "leave me the fuck alone." A few blocks later some girls on a balcony that I cna't see start shouting into the street, "I can see you!" I lie and shout back, "I can see you!" We go back and forth for a few minutes until I spot a bike on the street and try to steal it - turns out it's chained though.
2:40am - I see another bike and try to steal it until I notice a bottle of wine housed in it's basket. Upon finding out the bottle is empty, I smash it on the sidewalk.
2:50am - We arrive at 4th ave. and after goodbyes that seem to take ten minutes, begin to art ways. I see a guy at the corner, and ask, "where the fuck did you come from?" My friends apologize for me.
3am - I tell Josh I'm hungry and find an open food cart. I order up a chicken kebab and with food in mouth proclaim, "you are the man! seriously, you rule!" to the vendor.
3:04am - Josh and I head into the subway but it turns out my metrocard expired at midnite. We walk across the street to the station with an open card machine and buy myself a one trip ticket. The sensation of needing to relieve the biggest piss int eh world hits me as we get to our platform.
3:20am - While standing I stumble and Josh gets scared that I'll fall onto the train tracks. he tells me to lean against the subway map as a lonely saxophone begins to play. "This is awesome!" I say. I begin improvising words and singing along. I don't remember any of it, but Josh tells me, "well, the saxophone was good."
3:40am - The Q train arrives and Josh and I get on it. I have no recoolection of anything until we arrive at our stop half an hour later when, surprisingly, Josh is able to wake me up, and even more surprisingly, I haven't pissed myself.
4:20am - We get back tot eh apartment. In the midst of taking off my clothes, I launch a quarter from the inside pocket of my jeans across the room. It seems like the coolest thing ever at the time, but i pass out anyway.
10am - I wake up with the worst headache known to man to the sounds of pots and pans as I groan, "Ow!" from the couch. Cait tells me she's making blueberry pancakes and bacon and that their's Orange Juice in the fridge. Josh and Cait are the best people ever.
Apartment (Day 33)
I responded to some craigslist ads and ended up finding a place ot live. I'll be sharing a small two bedroom apartment in Queens with Leann, a 21 year old waitress originally from South Africa who took some psychology courses before moving to New York around the age of 19.
Anyone who wants the address - whether to send me letters or presents in the mail, or to plan a trip to come visit me - e-mail me and I'll send it your way.
Anyone who wants the address - whether to send me letters or presents in the mail, or to plan a trip to come visit me - e-mail me and I'll send it your way.
Fat Bottomed Girls (Day 32)
A girl came into the store with a bent debit card that instead of being able to be swiped through the register, had to be entered manually. The girl was tan skinned, curly haired and average looking and when I joked, "ran it through the laundry machine?", she started her bubble voiced response with, "No I'm a big girl and I accidentally sat on it..."
As someone living in one of (if not the) fattest countries in the world, it's hard not to find at least one person a day who has at least a little extra weight. I dont' give it much thought (hell, I could lose some weight too) unless the person in question is obese, or at least acting in an obese way.
Obesity to me isn't all an issue of size, but rather an attitude. If you're overeight, but staying active - walking around, having fun, offering something meaningful to society, or maybe even acknowledging the fact that you're not a model and are trying to better yourself for your own purposes, fine.
if on the other hand you're allowing yourself to fall by the wayside by keeping a job that keeps you on your ass all day, eating fried foods and cheesecake, and instead of doing anything productive are rather taking up space, well, how does one allow themselves to become that?
My point here is that I was taken aback when the girl brought it up, as I hadn't given it a thougth myself, and it's not every day that you hear someone talk about their own weight without the slightest of uncomfortability coming along with it - and, without sounding sexist here - especially a woman. It was good to see that this person, at least, didn't believe in the "ignorance is bliss" rule. She appeared happy and healthy even as she was bringing up her weight. It seems logical to guess that this attitude isn't a rarity seen in a fleeting, coffee shop moment, but rather one that translates to her everyday life.
As someone living in one of (if not the) fattest countries in the world, it's hard not to find at least one person a day who has at least a little extra weight. I dont' give it much thought (hell, I could lose some weight too) unless the person in question is obese, or at least acting in an obese way.
Obesity to me isn't all an issue of size, but rather an attitude. If you're overeight, but staying active - walking around, having fun, offering something meaningful to society, or maybe even acknowledging the fact that you're not a model and are trying to better yourself for your own purposes, fine.
if on the other hand you're allowing yourself to fall by the wayside by keeping a job that keeps you on your ass all day, eating fried foods and cheesecake, and instead of doing anything productive are rather taking up space, well, how does one allow themselves to become that?
My point here is that I was taken aback when the girl brought it up, as I hadn't given it a thougth myself, and it's not every day that you hear someone talk about their own weight without the slightest of uncomfortability coming along with it - and, without sounding sexist here - especially a woman. It was good to see that this person, at least, didn't believe in the "ignorance is bliss" rule. She appeared happy and healthy even as she was bringing up her weight. It seems logical to guess that this attitude isn't a rarity seen in a fleeting, coffee shop moment, but rather one that translates to her everyday life.
Fashion (Day 31)
I'm a man in all the obvious ways as well as some that aren't so obvious. Aside from the whole "having a penis" thing, I eat steak, drink whiskey, like action movies and have a fear of commitment and even more of a fear of having children. I wear jeans, like brunettes and along with my special brand of charm - or "misanthropy" as I like to call it - comes the normality fo a few extra pounds that I could spare from my 69 and a half inches.
I'm finding, however, that "fashion" for a man here in New York means being built like a five foot four, 95 lbs. twelve year old girl. Every store I go into displays it's "extra small" size on the mannequins and tabletops, and every displayed pant size seems to only reach the length of 30 inches and the waist fo 32. The counter help performs he miracle of being able to fit into these clothes while all the while delivering no particular kind of service to their customers.
I suppose what I'm wondering here is when it became cool to be short, scrawny and awkward? I know that nerdiness becomes cool some time in your mid-twenties, and I know that most women like a man who at least pretends to be a bit cultured. That doesn't mean they like men whose body structure wouldn't allow them to help carry the groceries, let alone change a tire, and I'm almost certain that no woman wants a man whose newly purchased "extra small" shirt and size 28 jeans reeks of pheromones more than Chanel No. 5.
As for women, their fashion sense isn't any better. All day long I see women walking down the street wearing what can only be defined as a short dress over top of their pants along with sunglasses so large that they put Bono's to shame. Gone are the days when all a woman had to do was look good ina pair of jeans, replaced by todays standard of gaudiness and cellular telephones that cause the perception of Times Square exploding onto their face.
"It costs a fortune to look this trashy," is a quote of Bono's I read once without giving it a second thought. Here in this city, though, where it's hard to find any of the aforementioned products for less than fifty dollars, perhaps it is true that tackiness, gaudiness, or more simply - trashiness acts as social stature. I can only hope I never become rich to the point of looking like rags.
I'm finding, however, that "fashion" for a man here in New York means being built like a five foot four, 95 lbs. twelve year old girl. Every store I go into displays it's "extra small" size on the mannequins and tabletops, and every displayed pant size seems to only reach the length of 30 inches and the waist fo 32. The counter help performs he miracle of being able to fit into these clothes while all the while delivering no particular kind of service to their customers.
I suppose what I'm wondering here is when it became cool to be short, scrawny and awkward? I know that nerdiness becomes cool some time in your mid-twenties, and I know that most women like a man who at least pretends to be a bit cultured. That doesn't mean they like men whose body structure wouldn't allow them to help carry the groceries, let alone change a tire, and I'm almost certain that no woman wants a man whose newly purchased "extra small" shirt and size 28 jeans reeks of pheromones more than Chanel No. 5.
As for women, their fashion sense isn't any better. All day long I see women walking down the street wearing what can only be defined as a short dress over top of their pants along with sunglasses so large that they put Bono's to shame. Gone are the days when all a woman had to do was look good ina pair of jeans, replaced by todays standard of gaudiness and cellular telephones that cause the perception of Times Square exploding onto their face.
"It costs a fortune to look this trashy," is a quote of Bono's I read once without giving it a second thought. Here in this city, though, where it's hard to find any of the aforementioned products for less than fifty dollars, perhaps it is true that tackiness, gaudiness, or more simply - trashiness acts as social stature. I can only hope I never become rich to the point of looking like rags.
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