Thanks to the charming Lianne Stokes who was nice enough to have me help out at last night's Brutal Honesty in a last minute bit. There was cussing, screaming, and cupcakes were shoved in my nostrils. And that's how I like it.Later, as is my way when confronted with tropical drinks that feature parasols and plastic monkeys I drank way too much and decided to stagger all about in search of naughty late night treats. I walked all the way from 14th & A to the Papaya King on 14th & 7th Ave. It was closed. Ah, well. I instead settled for a Snickers bar and
Me, Stokes and Sara.
the proffered card of some wierdo who thought it was appropriate to ask me out in a bodega. I guess he goes for the visably drunk type. I am fairly certain he is indeed a serial killer and I fully expect to see his photo any day now on NY1 in a man hunt montage. Needless to say, the card is now riding the rails on some random F train, jammed into a Dr. Zizmor advert for effect.
After arriving home I realized one of my curls was stiff with cupcake frosting, so I took a much needed drunken shower making sure to make as much noise as possible to torment my crazy roommate, The Ghost (see archives for full explanation). And then, it was off to sleep, quite pleased with the day. All in all, my meals yesterday consisted of a handful of Oreos, 2 cupcakes rammed in my mouth onstage, 4-5 alcoholic drinks, and a Snickers. I am clearly an adult who cares about her health. Ick.
"That girl is clearly a Dutch escort."--Brandy
"Who the fuck takes a Dutch escort to Otto's Shrunken Head!?"--Lianne
7 comments:
I hate it when you're so drunk that you wander around looking for the Papaya King that you could've sworn was on that one certain corner. You just end up checking every intersection in Manhattan except for the one with cheap hot-dogs. It sucks.
I think we need to immediately put together a map of sorts of all cheap hot dog places, emphasis on 24 hour joints. I know 2- 72nd and Broadway and then the one in Hell's Kitchen, I think it's on like 38th and 8th Ave?
I think we have some homeworks between us, Sears.
And that's my hood and I NEVER know where to find a god damn thing (because obviously my kitchen is out of the question). Bran, remember when you ate at the cab driver diner? That was a fun story.
Arc Chicken! Like a week later they got a huge write up in TONY so now when I walk by on the way from your pad it's full of L train pals who (A) Don't eat anyway so who are they kidding? and (B) glare at you if you don't have on pirate boots and a goddmaned parka. BITE ME, says me. Arc Chicken is MY TERRITORY!
I am still pissed we never got the key west gas station chicken...
Bran, we have a lot in common! We both lurch around visibly drunk and then attract homeless suitors! We are very lucky.
Classy lady alert! Colleen & Brandy are on the prowl!
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