Ice ice baby

Friday I decided to skip shopping and went on a date instead. I met Marathon Man at Bryant park to go ice skating. Yeah, cliché I know, but it was sooooo much fun. Okay, I have only been ice skating like five times and the last time I went I probably was pre-bra age. Anyway, I claim it is my skiing experience, but I kicked his ass! Oh yeah! I was able to do twirls, turns, and stop effectively which what was badly needed because of all the children on the loose. The little ones would either cut you off (causing you to internally swear and shake your fist at them) or wobble right into you. I swear it was like they were all drunk or something. One kid would loose his balance, grab on to another, bite the ice, and eventually take out a whole romper room of kids. I would be turning around the bend only to come to a halting stop before a 10 car pile up.

M-Man’s skates were clipped by some pretentious teenager who basically strapped on skates and stood in the center of the ice only to text message her friends about how cool ice skating was. He ended up doing the most ungraceful face plant. Instead of being a good date and helping him up, I pointed and laughed. Towards the end of our session, we decided it would be fun to push down children for the hell of it because we were leaving anyway. Sadly, neither of us were sadistic enough to actually go thru with it.

After checking our sad sad sad rental skates back in and regaining the use of our ankles, we headed down 5th ave to look at the Christmas window displays at Saks. He confessed that his worst Christmas present ever was a giant flesh colored penis water bottle….from his brother. He thought it would be funny to say his little brother sucks cock. Hmmmm, must remember to add to my Mom’s gift guide.

How can you make living in east Harlem more depressing….by living in a fifth floor walk-up shitty studio. I figured you could get a real deal on apartments in the hood, but I guess he is one with the idea of adapting to your environment. Anyway, we rented Die Hard 4 (my pick) and headed over to his place. He had to draw the curtains on his windows because some of his students live across the street from him, and he had caught them looking in his windows (not good when you walk around naked after a shower). Okay we were G-rated and just watched the movie, but he didn’t want students to know he had a girl in his apartment…GASP! I guess they are a bunch of assholes. Case in point, one day he got a new Asian student in his Chemistry class. It boosted the Asian representation at his Harlem school to…one. The other kids started throwing wadded up papers and pencils at her because she was different (hey at least I know now they don’t just hate whitey). He told the ringleader boy to get out of his class, and the little shit refused. M-Man then grabbed the kid’s backpack and threw it out the open window. Yeah, threw it out the window! The kid started to tear up because his alpha male status had just been crushed. Well after that momentary lapse in hood appropriate behavior, he came to his senses and smashed M-Man’s overhead projector on the ground. Ahhh, the overhead projector…memories.

Thanksgiving, quite the mouthful

Two day holiday means two holiday stories (both on Thanksgiving).
My holiday was a string of failed plans. First up was traveling to the actual Plymouth Rock in Massachusetts with my friend/clone Dana. Well one thing led to another, and the trip was scrapped (even though we were both really excited to wear pilgrim costumes). The second was volunteering at a soup kitchen. Unfortunately, almost all of the soup kitchens I called were closed on the holiday. The only open ones were “super” soup kitchens located in choice places like the Bronx, Queens, and Harlem. As much as I want to do something good, I don’t feel like walking into the lions den.

Finally I decided to do something ambitious and ride my bike around the entire island. Yeah that sounds impressive but it is only about 20-30 miles of easy riding. All was going well (because the day was gorgeous) until I hit the northern part of the island….Harlem. The streets were all scattered with debris, trash, and broken glass. Therefore, it was not surprising that I popped BOTH of my tires! I carry a spare tube and changing kit with me, but I never expected to need a second tube. Okay to paint the image, you have a white girl, with flat tires, wearing spandex, wheeling her bike down the street. Now picture the surroundings, empty boarded up buildings with graffiti, trash all over the place, bums and addicts watching you, and the roar of the hwy overpass overhead. I’m beginning to freak out at the thought of walking my bike 8 miles home….thru a bad stretch of Harlem, when a car pulls along side me. First thought….kill whitety. He surprised me by asking “are you okay?” I joked/asked him if he had another bicycle tube to which he said “nope, but the subway is not too far from here, would you like me to show you”. Tear! It is amazing where/when you will find absolute kindness.

Okay, now for the funny story. My friend Dana accepted a last minute invite to a thanksgiving meal being hosted by a distant friend of a friend. She practically had to travel to Connecticut to get there. Seriously, she took the 4 train to the last stop and then hopped on a bus. Well it was either the food or the eggnog or something, but it did not sit well with her stomach. On the hour plus long ride back on the subway, her feeling of nausea tortured her every minute. She finally emerged from the underground and slowly started shuffling down the few blocks to her apartment. On her way, a bum/crazy guy started yelling at her. She ignored him and kept moving, but the guy was closing in on the gap while saying “hey pretty lady, what you do’in, why you walking away, blah blah blah”. She started to panic because this guy would not stop harassing her (and would either assault her or mug her etc) and she couldn’t run away because of her woozy stomach. Finally, when he was along side her, she turned to him and VOMITED ALL OVER HIM! Ah ha ha ha! The bum was like “oh shit…oh…shiiiit” and ran away. Well I guess that worked and I’ll keep it in mind the next time I am bothered by a crazy man….or a really bad date.

Full of Hot Air

Okay here is a picture post for those of you who don’t like to read….or can’t (dumbasses). In lieu of watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade again, I decided to head up to the Museum of Natural History on Wednesday night to watch the balloons inflate. Yeah standing in the cold weather for four hours just to see a dozen giant balloons is not fun. This way I was able to see them all in one short 30 minute time frame. The lone bad thing is the mass of children that flock to this event like it is Mecca or something. Children are not that bad (I mean besides the screaming, poking, crying, and all around just existing) and besides I am bigger than them and therefore can easily push them down if they are in my way. However, where there are children, there will be obsessive parents. You know the ones who cart around massive bags full of diapers, bottles, camcorders, blankets, and every single stupid stuffed animal ever made. Now don’t get me started on the GIANT stroller (even though their children are fully capable of walking) that they will force through a packed crowd and relentlessly bang into my shins so much that I consider ripping out my uterus RIGHT THERE!

Frosty the Friggin Snowman Kermit taking a nosediveMacy's star...as if you didn't know whose parade it wasThats Mr. Potato Head to you

Ad campaign that has been going too long Die Ronald, die!

Hello Kitty Scooby eating a lamp post

Press "Against Me!" against me!!!!

Saturday night was date number two with Marathon Man. I had tickets for the punk/rock band ‘Against Me!’. They are my new favorite band….mostly in part to their sound and my carnal lust for the tatted up lead singer. Here is what the paper said:
“Metromix Picks for Saturday, MUSIC: Against Me! Their new record ‘New Wave’ has a groove and swagger not heard since the heyday of the Clash. Oh, and being the best live punk in the world certainly doesn’t hurt their cause.” Yeah, I am totally smitten. At one point during the concert, I told Marathon Man that I would drop him so fast if the lead singer (Tom) pointed to me and said to meet him backstage.

I should backup….Since the venue was close to my apartment, M-Man came over for some pre-drinking. Yeah, I am THAT cheap and not ashamed to have a drink or two before forking over my hard earned dollars for shitty domestic beer. Well he came over with a bottle of tequila, and I was completely unprepared. I am too old to take shots anymore, so I shouted from the kitchen, “okay the mixer options are water, apple juice, milk, and more beer.” I did have some frozen fruit that I used to make a very sad margarita blend…that is if a margarita consists of peaches, strawberries, and apple juice. Oh and I forgot to add the alcohol at first, so we downed the initial horrible batch for nothing other than one of our daily fruit servings.

We headed over to the concert a bit buzzed and had the following conversation with the doorman/bouncer:
Big beefy bouncer (BBB): Are you two drinking tonight?
Me: Well yeah, a little beforehand. Is that a problem?
BBB: No, are you going to be drinking tonight?
Me: I mean, we didn’t bring any with us if that is what you are asking….but could we have?
BBB: No, do you want to drink HERE ‘cause you need to get a bracelet over there!
Obviously, M-Man is cracking up at my apparent confusion.

Okay a quick word about the venue, Terminal 5. It is over in an old Hell’s Kitchen warehouse and boy is it HUGE! The main floor is about three or four basket ball courts and there are two levels of balconies that surround/overhang the main floor. I guess the architectural term would be atrium like. Anyway, we were able to carve out an against the railing front row standing room only spot right along the stage (the layout put us about 20-30 feet from the band with a completely unobstructed). Yeah, a rocking spot and hopefully close enough that Tom Gabel (the singer) would notice me and immediately propose.

Since the show was all ages, there were plenty of minors about. Thankfully they all stayed to the main floor, and the adults kept company with the bar on the upper levels. Yeah, I remember a time when I liked to get crazy at concerts. You know, stage surge, crowd surf (well I never surfed, but liked to pass people around), and of course dodging the mosh pit. Looking down at the hundreds of kiddies smashing into each other, throwing punches, dropping surfing bodies, pressing up against the stage barriers…..I think, man I am too old for that shit. I was pretty amused at the rowdy crowd who would wrestle off the shoes, hats, and/or shirts from crowd surfers and then chuck them across the room…what assholes.

I knew it was going to be a great show when the lights dimmed and a roadie stepped up on stage. The crowd went momentarily quiet, but then let out a huge roar when the roadie ripped down a plain black backdrop curtain to reveal the band’s giant logo. Yeah, I went pretty nuts too. The band then rushed on stage right into their first song. They played their asses off and DID NOT STOP! Seriously, they went from one song right into another without stopping to take a breather, switching equipment, or boring the crowd with mindless insight into their songs. Yeah, 90+ solid minutes of music. They ebbed the crowd’s energy like a symphony inserting the roaring, moshing, and pumping their fists in the air after a mellow medley (okay these guys are not mellow by any means…I just want to describe how it was to gather your energy during one song and then follow it up immediately with a rebel yell). Can you tell I’m a huge fan?

Anyway, M-Man and I snuck around to the tour bus after the show to try and catch the guys (okay, I actually was there to jump on Tom). No dice since both of us didn’t feel like standing around in the cold for another hour or so for them to emerge. I did send a short but sweet email to the band (yeah, sue me for being a stalker), congratulating them on a great show and asking them to come back to NYC soon. Well a few days ago I got a response…..from Tom! Oh yeah! He basically said thanks and would let me know when they are touring next (you know the standard impersonal email). My college friend Darci (and also Against Me! Fan) says she fully expects a proposal the next time he comes into town. Mmmmmnnn, this close to getting a notebook and writing Lindsay + Tom all over it….just kidding, or am I? Something about the tall, skinny, bad boy types....

Aged to perfection

On Friday night, I met a Chicago friend out at an 80’s bar in Alphabet City. I of course show up on time and no members of the group are there. Why do I have to be so punctual? I mean is it really a bad thing…you know to show up when YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO! Okay enough ranting since everyone else in the world is obviously accustomed to being late…well everyone but my father who still believes in the practice of getting to the airport three hours ahead of time.

Finally the whole crew was there and we quickly monopolized the VIP/dance floor/lounge area. Don’t get me wrong, we are not the snobby VIP type of people….I mean come on, we stuffed our coats behind a fake plastic tree (Radiohead shout out). From our elevated vantage point, we were able to scan the dense crowd below. I spotted a preppy cute guy near the bar. Unfortunately Shari spotted him too and called dibs before I could protest. The two of us made our way down to the bar under the ruse of getting more drinks (we are soooo clever), and we positioned ourselves right next to him at the bar. I looked over to him and saw he was looking at me (probably because we shoved him aside to make room at the bar....you know, drunk subtlety). I placed my order and looked back to see him staring at me! Well I don’t know if he was staring at me because I was staring at him in the awkward tug of war. Before I could capitalize on the situation, Shari jumped between us with an ice breaker question (damn gotta get me some skillz). We eventually had to leave to deliver drinks to the rest of the group, but we made sure to tell him exactly where we were in the bar.

About a half hour later, Shari and I decided to scan the crowd and watch our cute guy from afar. While looking at the crowd, I noticed a heavy amount of body grind dancing. Yeah, the classy hump the leg, push your ass into the crotch, dry rub each other type of dirty dancing only exhibited by frat guys, very drunk girls, or your typical bitch ass ho. Sadly Mr. Dreamy was no where to be seen and we presumed he had left. Oh well, plenty of fish in the sea (or more appropriately, plenty of naive boys in the city). I headed over to the restroom line only to see our handsome prince wandering around looking for something. Gasp, he came up to find us…high five. I maneuvered him over to Shari and then took up conversation with the other guys in the group. Okay, I do have to give a shout out to the rest of the guys so they can say they MADE THE BLOG: Phil, Steve, Josh, and Eddie….holla holla! I mentioned to the boys that I was going to let Shari have her chance with him….but if she fails, I would go in for the kill.

Well Shari lost interest and I swooped in for my shot. I will not bore you with the drunken conversation. You know, blah blah blah, what do you do, blah blah blah, where are you from, blah blah blah, wanna make out. Okay I did find out he is a Wall Streeter from Iowa, and only 23! What is with the young guys! My last three men options have been 22, 23, and 24! It has been such a young pup streak that my Mom has told me “well Lindsay, aren’t there any nice young men your age there…I mean these boys are all younger than your baby sister”. Thanks Mom. Well the cute guy did perk up the self esteem by commenting to me, “wow you are 28, I would have never guessed it. I mean you are just so……so well preserved”. What? Well Preserved! I’m not a jam or ham buddy.

Going away on a secret mission

Friday night, I took a break from the dating spree to celebrate Evan’s 24th birthday. He is the same guy who dressed up at the “Wendy’s commercial guy” for Halloween. Not to outdo himself, he showed up to the party in a tux! Yeah, with the shiny shoes and everything! Turns out, it is his souvenir from when he visited Hong Kong a while ago. Normally I just get sea shells or a beer coozie….maybe it is time for an upgrade.

After the bar closed down, a group of us headed next door to an all night diner. I flipped thru the ten page menu.....okay quick side note. Why is it that the more you are paying for a meal, the less options there are? I mean, for $10 you can get anything from tacos, pancakes, and chicken fried steak at a diner. But a fancy place usually only lists four or five dishes total. If I’m going to fork over $50, I want French toast stuffed in a chicken covered in salsa and fit into a waffle cone! Come on, where are my options! Okay back to the story….I browsed the menu and stopped dead in my tracks at grilled cheese. Mmmmn. I told the group what I wanted and Dana gasped and said “oh my God, I want a grilled cheese!” which only proves that we were indeed twins separated at birth. Here is another thing I don’t understand about restaurants…children’s menus. Typically they have smaller portions and therefore smaller prices. Well I ordered from the kids menu but my sandwich, fries, and soft drink were no different in size than Dana’s. Odd huh.

Saturday night was the night of two bon voyage parties. Firstly, there was Rob who would be working in Romania for the next month. We all told him to bring back souvenirs like a custom made tux or a mail order bride. Anyway, I met him out at a play called “Bottomless” which was written by his friend the bartender. In a nutshell, the play takes place in the dressing room of one girl (the other is hidden from view behind the curtain). The second act switches the place of the girls (so now we are on the other side of the curtain) and replays the play. Only when we saw it from the other perspective, did all the jokes make sense. At one point, we hear the unseen girl moaning and breathing heavy. Turns out, she is psycho and was pretending to give birth. Another time, the dressing room girl gets a call from her boyfriend and he asks her about the dirty pictures to which she denies. In the second act, you see the “waiting girl” stick the phone up her skirt and down her shirt, etc. Yeah funny.

Although I enjoyed the humor and concept of the play, I was not a fan….mostly because of the whisker butt! Yeah, the dressing room girl was trying on jeans, so she spent the entire first act in her underwear. She was all confident and wore cheeky underwear, but she must have had bad lipo or something because her thighs had all sorts of flesh pockets in them. Also, there was something wrong with her ass. She had several wrinkles (if you could call them that…ass wrinkles) just below her cheeks. It make her backside look like cat whiskers. She kept turning her ass towards the audience and I swear that mother fucking cat was staring at me! I wanted to cover my eyes because I felt like a major pervert staring down the cat. Ugh!

The next stop was a speakeasy that I have heard loads about but never visited before. You go to a harmless looking hot dog shop in St. Marks. You then enter the phone booth and dial the number. In a minute or two, the other side of the phone booth opens to reveal the speakeasy. It is sooooo cool and secret! The name of the place just says it all, PDT for please don’t tell. Ah ha ha ha. Anyway, I couldn’t stay long because I had another going away party to attend.

My running friend, Aimee, is taking a three week vacation to Asia. I headed over to the meat packing district and walked down one of the scariest streets ever. Yeah this area is supposed to be trendy and play on the whole edgy and gritty exteriors of the warehouses. Well 15th street is dark, empty, and covered with graffiti. I had a mild mugging fear sensation. I arrive at the club, and my first impression is “what the fuck!”. The exterior wall was covered in graffiti or old postings, the door was cracked/smashed glass (not even the purposely kind), and the address was written on a piece of duct tape and stuck to the doorframe. Oh did I mention it didn’t have a sign or anything? Well when I walked it, it was total 180. The place was all swanked out with a lighted multi-colored disco dance floor and the furniture was polished and super uncomfortable. Yeah you can usually tell how hip a place is by how absurd their furniture is. The chairs here were no bigger than camping stools, so I had to balance my fat ass on 3 square inches of wood held 18” off the ground by a very suspicious looking thin pole.

Now the patrons of the club were a mix among elegant Manhattan elite, manicured hot gay men (who would rub each others butts in front of me….like taking a diabetic to a candy store…what douche bags), and trust fund baby hipsters (you know, the ones who spend a fortune to wear clothes made to look like you got them at thrift store). One very drunk hipster girl kept bumping into me. By the fourth time, I finally took a good look at her. He was wearing a calf length jean skirt with a high waist. Huh…I thought we all burned those in 1990? Anyway, Aimee said “I am trying to read the brand on her butt….I think it is Jordace”. Patty squinted and intently stared before replying “nope, I think is Osh Kosh B-gosh”. Ah ha ha ha.

Teacher - Student relations

If you are just tuning in, let me inform you that I have taken on the NYC dating scene like a hillbilly in a Dale Earnhardt Jr. store. I met up with “Brewtopia Boy” in Hoboken on Thursday. Okay, on a side note, to protect the privacy of strangers, I have nicknames for all of the boys I date (who am I kidding, I just want a way to talk about them behind their backs without them catching on). Sofar there has been Canadian, Rock Star, Wall Street, Swim Boy, Speed Dater, Brewtopia Boy, and Marathon Man.

How do I describe Brewtopia Boy….well I can tell you what my roommate said to him…”no talent ass hat”. Okay, she was really drunk and he was not faring so well at the mini basketball game thing. Actually he is quite sporty since he played catcher for his college baseball team. That seemed like a odd choice since he is 6’-3” tall? Oh well, at least I know he is used to going down….oh snap!

He had the ability to grow and anglo-fro which would make our combination of curly nappy hair a reason why our children would require therapy. Okay cute---check, funny---check, athletic---check, what could be wrong? Here is how I discovered his one flaw.
Me: So what brought you to Hoboken (he is from Oregon)?
Him: Well work mostly.
Me: Oh, did you specifically look for a job out here, or did you get transferred like me?
Him: Well, after I graduated, I just started sending out resumes.
Me: Wait, after you graduated….when did you graduate?
Him: 2007
Me: From grad school right.
Him: Naw, just bachelors.
Me: Wait, how old are you?
Him: 22, and you are 26, and I am cool with that.
Me: No, I’m 28.
Him: (big wide eyes), oh, well that makes a big difference, it is like over a half decade, I mean you graduated high school when I was still in elementary school.

Okay age gaps are normally not an issue among adults. However, the immediately post college folks are still essentially kids, and it makes a BIG difference to them. I mean, I hear all sorts of stories of relationships gone wrong because one person is an adult and the other is 20 or 21. Whatever, I just am trying to say he didn’t handle the news well. I on the other hand am very proud of myself for landing such a young buck. Maybe next time I’ll hang around campus and try to score myself an 18 year old.

Sunday was my date with Marathon Man (also sometimes referred to as Chemistry guy). He scored big points by suggesting we take a class at the trapeze school. Yeah, I’m talking about circus trapeze! They have classes that teach you how to do aerial stunts while swinging/jumping 30 feet in the air. Granted, my upper body strength has diminished so much since I was a child that I cannot make it across the jungle gym bars. Damn fat ass.

Anyway, we could not get into the class because it was sold out a month ahead of time. Our plan B date started at the JMZ chambers street subway stop. It was voted the most old school decrepit subway station. Like the closed City Hall stop that Bree and I saw, this station was built in the 1920’s art deco heyday. It originally had twelve subway lines but now it only serves three. It also connected to the long removed Brooklyn bridge overhead cable car trolley (similar to the Roosevelt Island one). Anyway, the place is full of beautiful tile mosaics, art deco decorations, walled up doorways, and wrought iron stairwells that lead to no where. It is also completely falling apart so it is currently under conservation construction.

Next, we waked across the Brooklyn Bridge to see some pretty impressive Manhattan skyline views. Okay, I’ve done this before, but it is still awesome. Right off of the bridge is the Brooklyn promenade which is basically a park along the waterfront. It was voted to have the best view of Manhattan. We watched the sunset from there. Okay tease me all you want, but it was an original date idea. The park also had this green fiber optic art display. I’m not sure if the artist was trying to make a hedge or something, oh well.

We headed over to the famed pizza joint Grimaldi’s. Unfortunately, there was a line down half the block. A two hour wait for a pizza in 40 degree weather….maybe next time. What I don’t understand is that it was 5pm on a Sunday….besides Senior Citizens, who eats then? We wandered thru the DUMBO neighborhood (down under the Manhattan Bridge overpass) in search of another eatery. At one point, we were on a narrow deserted cobblestone road between two brick graffiti covered warehouses. He asked me “you brought your gun right? Because I only brought my ninja skills”. Ah ha ha….no seriously, potential mugging territory.

To wrap up the date, we found another pizza joint, talked (and I found out he is the only republican teacher I know), and took the subway back to Manhattan. I give him an A- (only because he is a red state) and we are heading to a punk/rock show of one of my favorite bands, Against Me this week. He has agreed to sport a faux-hawk…..mmmmnn, cannot wait.

Run if you can...otherwise just roll with it

For the second year in a row, I have woken up in the early morning hours to witness the New York City marathon. I headed up to Spanish Harlem 100th st along 5th Ave (yes there are ghetto areas of 5th Ave) at 9am. I was surprised to see the route vacant because my vantage point last year (70th St. and 1st Ave.) was packed five deep. Then again, not many people purposely hang around the hood unless they are selling crack or ass or something. I asked a traffic officer if he knew where the leaders were at the time. He then shocked me by saying, “leaders….honey the race doesn’t start until 10:30…and it will take them at least two hours to get this far in the race”. Ohhh shit, I should have checked the start time before A) waking myself up earlier than necessary and B) subjecting myself to 40 degree weather.

At least I planned ahead and layered up my clothing. In short I was wearing thick running tights, jeans, a sweatshirt, my ski jacket, ski knee high socks, and gloves so thick they would put out Saudi oil fires. I was one layer away from waddling. Of course, I was so concerned about standing out in the cold that I skipped all other useful things like doing my hair, putting on makeup, or checking the race starting time.

Luckily I was able to kill time with a handsome public school teacher. He went out to get a Sunday paper and enjoy reading it in the park when he stumbled upon the race route. From our conversation I learned he went to the University of Chicago (plus) and teaches AP Chemistry to a public school in Harlem (science…double plus). Friends know that I have a soft spot for bad boys and math/science nerds….yeah, I’m strange.

After what seemed to be hours…wait, it was, the leaders started to go by. First were the wheelchair racers since they can typically finish the race in half the time as a runner…because they have wheels…duh. Anyway, I got a word or two with the wheelchair leader when he asked me where number 2 was. I answered him “nowhere in sight but don’t slow down”. About ten minutes later, I told number 2 to hurry up and catch 1 (even though it was downright impossible unless he had some nitro for breakfast).

Yeah, I was stationed at mile 23, which is basically the death march of a marathon. At that point in the race, you are in the most pain imaginable. When I ran it, I literally started crying because I thought I was going to die. Seriously, one person dies each year in the marathon. While I was running, I had the realization, that person was going to be me…whaaaa! Since everyone looked pretty downtrodden, I decided to yell humorous words of encouragement. When the exhausted wheelchairs rolled by I yelled “don’t just sit there, go go go”! Yeah I got a few ‘oh my God, did she just say that to those poor people’ looks, but come on, it was a joke! Some of the other jems were “hey your fly is open”, “hurrah for half naked men”, “way to go nameless man”, “don’t worry, it cannot get much worse…unless you legs fall off”, and “looking good (insert name), no seriously looking real good, you single”.

I feel the amount of cheering a runner got was directly related to how large their name was written on their shirt and how short/easy it is. If you are a Roberto…just put Rob. Alexandria…yeah Allie works much better. There is no way spectators can read, comprehend, and then shout out a name of more than three syllables in all of three seconds. Plus if you have a weird name and look foreign, you are going to get the “go China man, go” or “be swift Swede” chant….enjoy it.

I was having a blast berating people with the occasional, “if you are smiling, then you are not running fast enough” and “don’t worry, only 10 miles left (lie since we were 3 miles from the finish line….yeah, I got a few death stares from that one)”. Well I was cracking up the Chemistry teacher. Six hours and one hoarse voice later, he asked for my number. Yeah, I guess a good sense of humor makes up for messy bed hair, no makeup, and marshmallow man stuffed pants. That or the fact I rule!

Mr. and Mrs. Smith do NYC

Friday night, Mike, Jen, and I were treated to prime seats for the Broadway musical The Drowsy Chaperone. Evidently, Mike did a superior job at the conference, and he was rewarded with three tickets (orchestra level, five rows back, center…awesome). Bob Sagat was starring as “the man in the chair” which sounds odd but makes complete sense if you have seen the musical. Oh, yeah, go see this musical. It was really good and is in my top five. Anyway back to Bob….he was so perfect. I remember him from Full House and then America’s funniest home videos. The only thing that would have improved the performance is if Uncle Jessie (and the rest of the Full House cast) showed up on stage and then was hit in the crotch with a football.

Afterwards, we headed down to McSorely’s. Okay, okay, I tend to take all my visitors there, so I will stop only when it starts to suck. Yeah, it hit a homerun again! I talk about people getting thrown out for not drinking right. Well, the surly waiter kept telling us “I want to see some empty glasses (i.e. drink faster)”. He at one point grabbed a mug out of my hand and poured the remaining contents into another mug on the table. Okay okay, we get the point.

After an hour of non stop power drinking, Mike and Jen had to head to their hotel…in Jersey! My neighborhood is flooded with cabs; however, convincing one of them to head over to Jersey at 1am is another story. I guess they had all sorts of characters giving them different estimates which does not make sense since the hotel has not moved!

The next day, the Smiths consulted the hotel concierge, and ended up taking the ferry back over to Manhattan. They found amusement from a child seated behind them who asked his parents “can I lick the boat”. Okay if he has to ask, then you know he has done it before and has gotten in trouble for it. I can only imagine a day in the shoes of his parents…can I lick the dog, can I lick door, can I lick the bum…

So we put in the typical lower Manhattan tour because EVERYBODY wants to see the Statue of freaking Liberty. Mike and Jen commented that I seemed to know a lot about the area (you know, Wall St., Ground Zero, Battery Park, etc), and well I should…I’ve been down there a dozen times. One truly unique experience was when a high school choir (nothing like seeing ’09 on the letterman’s jackets to make you feel old) sang the National Anthem in the middle of St. Paul’s church. A lot of 9/11 memorials, notes, stories, pictures, etc are on display in the church, so the somber song just added an experience that is beyond words (believe me, I have been thinking about how to describe it for minutes now, and none of the other drafts do it justice).

We stopped into Katz’s deli on Houston. We figured Mike should be treated to the best (and biggest….the thing was at least two pounds of meat) pastrami sandwich since Jen and I were forcing him to accompany us while shopping in SoHo. Although, I think Mike secretly likes to shop. One time, Jen and I observed Mike on his own in a store. She whispered to me “oh, look…he is shopping…it is so weird to see him shop…like watching animals in the wild”. Ah ha ha ha.

That night, the Smiths went to another Broadway play, Avenue Q. Afterwards, we grabbed some beers at Mercury Bar in Hell’s Kitchen. They had to catch the 12:30am bus to Jersey or otherwise face the nightmare that is taking a cab across the river. We had just gotten our second round when I checked my watch…12:15! We left the untouched drinks on the table (soooo sad to leave a full good beer), and started to run down the street. The bus station was only three blocks away, but it is five stories tall with over 50 bus terminals! Of course the information booth was closed and they didn’t have any LCD information screens. We then split up and started running around the terminal. Jen and I tried to ask people if they knew which gate the 1578 (or whatever bus number it was) bus was at, but they were not much help (okay, I am sure we looked all crazy since we were panting and all frazzled and half shouted the questions at them). We eventually found a small display case with a single sheet in it that indicated all Jersey bus gates. I dashed up to gate 301 to hold the bus while Jen frantically call Mike. He finally showed up with three people left to board….time 12:29am. Whew, talk about leaving NYC with a story!

Spank in the City

Living in the city, it is a lot easier to convince friends to come visit. A couple from Chicago (Mr. and Mrs. Smith…okay could not resist that) were in town for a conference. Well Mike had a conference…Jen came along for the sight seeing. Thursday night, Jen and I hit up the standard Times Square and M&M store. I was curious to see what that store had to offer since ALL TOURISTS carry around that bright yellow bag. Yes, a signature color and bag style…Tiffany’s watch your back. Sure enough, you can buy embroidered leather jackets (think Planet Hollywood rip off), stuffed M&M characters, Christmas ornaments, bedazzled belt buckles, and (gasp) M&M’s. I guess the novelty of getting an entire bag of just yellow M&M’s is too much for tourists to resist.

After a quick stop to hug the “LOVE” sculpture, we met Mike at the St. Regis Hotel bar. Yeah the St. Regis Hotel! Talk about old money and class. Mike was catching celebratory drinks with co-workers. One very particular guy trapped Jen in a conversation. Here is how it went:
Weirdo: So I am totally going to hell
Jen: Why?
Weirdo: Well I spank my kids.
Jen: Uh that is totally acceptable (side note, Jen is a lawyer that deals with child services, therefore she be the ultimate authority on what is an okay form of punishment)
Weirdo: Well I use a paint stirring stick instead of my hand….because I know karate, and I could kill my children with one chop.
Jen: (stunned silence, followed by thoughts of texting Mike to “save her”).

The next day, I helped Jen check out of their hotel room. Talk about a view! We had about an hour to kill before boarding the Sex in the City tour (yeah totally psyched about that!), so we wandered thru Central Park. We stumbled upon a taping of Gossip Girl! My roommate and I are totally addicted to that show even though I disapprove of its overly sexual content for teenagers. I took pity on some shmuck guys and asked for an autograph for them. I then left the scene since all the characters I like were not there. Mmmm Dan and Chuck sandwich.

The Sex in the City tour was awesome! We were driven around to all sorts of spots they used in the series including Friar Fuck’s church, Elizabeth Taylor’s gang bang doggie park, and Aiden’s gallery. Additionally we got to have a cosmo at Aiden & Steve’s bar (not on Mulberry street, but close), eat Magnolia bakery cupcakes, and sit on Carrie’s front stoop (which was actually in the West Village instead of the UES). They are currently filming the movie, and the tour lady said they have bumped into SJP three times in the last month. Yeah talk about nightmare for SJP, a bus load of super fans on a SITC worshiping tour....run away fast.

As we were riding from one destination to another, the tour hostess asked who was a “Carrie”. On “Miranda”, only Jen and mine hands shot up. When she said “Charlotte”, a gay couple in the front raised their hands. She then said, “It is always the gays who want to be Charlotte”. Yeah there were very few guys on the tour. If they were not gay, then they were dragged there by their significant other. I don’t know what the girls said to the guys to get them to agree, you know, maybe head when they got back to the hotel room, that is my guess.

One of the other pit stops was the Pleasure chest. We had the option to purchase a rabbit, or pick up a free spanky stick (i.e. stick used to whack around your bedroom buddy). Okay, the spanky stick Jen and I got looked like a paint stirrer. Upon closer inspection, the directions said “for paint stirring use only”. I guess some one should tell the co-worker weirdo. Ah ha ha ha.

Halloween part Deux

Because October 31st fell midweek, I was able to celebrate my favorite holiday twice! I redressed in the white fluffy, fair wing clad tooth fair costume and headed down to the village for the parade. Just to give you an idea about how insane Halloween is in the West Village (aka boystown), the first sight I saw after exiting the train was a drag queen wearing a black bra and thong with a fishnet dress cover….actually, I don’t even know if that was a costume.

Yeah, the parade was T and A all over the place. Dana, Evan, and I tried to sneak into the parade (after copious amounts of wine), but the cops quickly chased us out. I was pretty impressed with out group’s costumes.
Dana – a cute care bear
Evan – the guy from the Wendy’s commercial
Gabby – French maid (aka the only sexy one of us)
Kim – evil devil woman
Chris – that ref that got caught taking bribes, also had a blind man’s white cane, whatever
Mike – white trash (he actually grabbed stuff out of his garbage can and duct tapped it to him, the gallon of milk on his back got dangerous after he got drunk)
Rob – Derik Jeter from the Yankees (actually I think it was an excuse for him to wear tight pants…the gays looooved him and his tight pants)
Some Asian guy I don’t remember his name – anyway he was a giant panda, he said it was okay since he was Asian

We headed over to a Halloween bar party in SoHo. It had the coolest floating pumpkin ceiling. Yeah it was totally a scene from Harry Potter or something…okay, yeah I am dork, deal. Have I mentioned how much I love dressing up in costumes! Well the bar party had some really good ones. The best/most shocking was a guy dressed as Dracula with a blow up doll tied to his crotch. Yeah, it totally looked like it was giving him head. Anyway, also in attendance was a mildly straight guy dressed as Julius Caesar. I say mildly straight because he was a bit femme but was very into me. Yeah, I am a sucker for guys in swords (okay insert wah whan wah noise here). I even have a prior experience kissing a Caeser at a 2004 Halloween party.

Not wanting to limit myself (and my red hot game streak) I left the guy with his friends and headed off to another bar with the gang. We hit up the Village Tap Room, D-spot, and White Horse Tavern (for a bathroom break) before settling on a small chill place called Other Room. If you put it on the map, we walked close to a mile…and me in high strappy evil shoes! At one point I took them off and walked a block barefoot. Then reality kicked in and I slipped them back on for fear of contracting hep C or alcoholism. Once we reached Other Room, I plopped down on an odd couch (I swear all the trendy places have to have really abnormal furniture) and refused to move. The place was totally off the beaten path and Cameron Diaz bought Dana a drink the previous week. I eventually called it a night at 3am since my feet were killing me and it was a school night.