The weekend came in like a lamb and out like a lion, but before I get to the weekly debauchery there is something that must be addressed. During a weekend barbeque a friend of mine, who will remain anonymous, told us tales of a unique subculture that exists at Yale University and revolves around the notion of hanging in the buff. The stories were absurd and like something I’ve never heard, but they are nonfiction so all mothers and fathers, who believe their kids abstain from crazy behavior while attending these Ivy League institutions, are dead wrong.
Let’s start by dispelling the preconceived notion that Ivy Leaguers are typically uptight or sexually repressed. The myth was wiped from the history books when I was told about the “naked” parties that frequent the campus. These parties aren’t like the Sarah Lawrence “Coming Out” parties or Opaline “Panty” parties. This is the real deal. We are talking about a bunch of kids hanging around butt naked and getting drunk. When asked whether or not the parties turned into wild orgies, I was told, “Not really. It isn’t very sexual.” Not very sexual? What the fuck could be more sexual than getting drunk in a room full of naked coeds? I can’t imagine going to a naked party and not getting laid. Is it just me? Anyway, when asked what was the common protocol when a male attendee gets excited my Bulldog informant said, “Oh, yeah, that happens, and it’s quite embarrassing. People try to ignore it.” How could you restrain yourself from getting excited? You could pine over a girl for three years and then show up at this party and receive the visual you’ve so desperately been yearning for. It’s a dirty thought, but the truth hurts. You are also drinking which means you’re probably hornier than usual and being thrown into a room with a bunch of hot naked ladies (or dudes if that’s your preference). Anyway, this phenomenon may not surprise you, but it had me dreaming of Yale acceptance for grad school.
But please get the fuck out of my house. That’s how I was feeling this Friday. After a long week and a late Thursday night all I could think about was sleep. Early plans to see an AM showing of the new Michael Moore film were bailed on once I found someone to take my ticket. Luckily my friend Valium showed up so Dee, Kyle and I sat around getting silly before passing out.
Summer time is kick ass. Despite my loathing of the beach since my run in with a colony of jellyfish as a young teenager, I still love the summer time. Why? One word: barbeque. Saturday morning Builder and I took a walk around Chinatown before we met up with Beach and headed to his backyard. We stopped by Key Foods to pick up some grub before making our way to 7th Street. Oveis showed up and we spent the afternoon eating burgers, sausages, shrimp and various other bbq favorites while the Yankees got beat up by the Mets.
After returning home and catching some much needed z’s, Cami showed up and got the door spinning at 186. In the matter of a couple hours Dan, Kyle, Erin, Karen, Lou and some other kids made a stop at the pad before we stopped into Rothko to catch Gerling’s 1am set. Rothko is a loud as hell club and it suited the big sound of these Sydney boys. Each one of them contributes something unique to the live show. Pressa holds down the beats and the four-track from behind the kit. He is the least animated of the group. In fact Pressa didn’t look up from his kit until he threw his headphones down before singing the last song. Darren keeps things in order as the lead singer and guitarist. His stage banter was hilarious. He even called out some chump who had hair that could only be described as a happy marriage between Tesh and Fabio. Burke is the Wildman of the group. He plays bass and dances around like a possessed zombie. His giant stare and cryptic grin made me scared, but it’s all fun and games so don’t be afraid.
After the show, Hawkins and I headed back to 186 where we ran into Kyle, Dee and Karen. We threw back a quick cocktail before shooting over to The Hole for some fun and games. Karen and I had trouble finding the band, but we eventually met up with the kids in the rear of the shitty establishment. We also ran into Eric which was humorous because neither of us expected the other to be at The Hole. Eventually a crew of 10 or so rolled back to 186 to party until the sun came up.
With a heaping hangover in tow, Builder and I made our way to Beach’s to have a quick session prior to hopping on the 4 Train and heading to Yankee Stadium. Beach managed to score three tickets to the early game which turned out to be a Yankees slug fest. The Bronx Bombers hit four homers in total with two by Jeter and a Grand Slam by Godzilla. My body was rejecting all attempts to get drunk until we returned to the neighbor to indulge in some serious eats. Our first stop was Half Price Sushi on 2nd Ave and 7th Street where Builder and I both took down a Sushi Deluxe. Then it was onto Mary Ann’s where we met up with Josh and Mike for Margaritas and Tequila shots in honor of our dear Matsui. By 9pm I was in bed watching shitty Russel Crow movies while trying to work on my Aussie accent.
2 Comments:
naked parties are usually at ivy's or ivy-level schools in rural suburbia. wesleyan univerisity's are known for being most awesome -- there's paint, live bands, and all that good shit. haha... actually, my cousin's band has been the house band for each of these parties for a little while now. but yeah, it's supposed to be more of a "symbolic" experience rather than a sexual one. you know, like if you're filled in a room of fellow naked people, not wearing clothes becomes the norm, everyone gets comfortable around each other and they have nothing to hide (hah, in every way possible). just, some feel-good times. i guess what i'm trying to say is that it's more of a celebration of human anatomy than the pretext for a full-out orgy... or something along those lines.
btw, back from chi-town and shit was fuckin awesome.
a celebration of the human body... ok, whatever. it sounds more sexy than symbolic, but if it is meant to be symbolic well that's just cheezy, and i can write whatever i want about this because i was one of these ivy league kids just a couple years ago. however, i must admit it does sound like fun. i'd need about 20 drinks in me though, before i'd have the courage to get involved. scat
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