Say it with me now: J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets. This was another great weekend for my sports teams. Notre Dame is on the verge of getting a Top 25 ranking after their win over Michigan State, (props to the Irish for making the Michigan teams their bitch). The Jets are 2-0 after a nervous victory over the Charges, (the defense needs to play all four quarters). Finally, the slumping Yankees returned to mid-season form against the Boston Shit-Stains. With all the questions involving their pitching, the Yankee hurlers silenced critics save our ace-in-the-hole, Mo who blew the game on Friday night.
Thanks to all of you who sent me an email regarding the arrest of the Culkin to end all Culkins. Our beloved Culkin was arrested for pot possession. Nice to know our man keeps it green.
Do you know what can ruin a club experience no matter how great the band is? Well, keep reading and I’ll let you know. Alistair, Builder, Howerton and I eased into Friday night with some Spanish Tapas at some joint called Olivas on Houston Street. The crab bisque was delicious, but the rest of the food was overpriced and poorly spiced. After a quick run through the rain, we made it back to 186 for some hang time prior to going out. As my budget grows ever tighter (I actually had a nightmare about paying my student loans), I’m realizing the importance of pregaming more so than ever before. Eventually Jin and D.O.P. minus Erica stopped by the house to have a chat and drink some beers.
The evening pressed on under the guidance of PBR and Sparks. Most of the kids went on their way, but George stuck around as we waited for the witching hour. Leah, Cami and Dan popped in to eat some pistachios and have a beer. Around 11pm we walked over to Sin-e to catch The Head Set’s gig. They were already a few songs into their set when we arrived. They looked and sounded tight, but there was a major problem. The mix was ear bleeding loud. I’m not talking about something that was just pushed to 11. They were playing at 14 or something ridiculous. It ruined the set for me because it was so unbearable. The sound (wo)man needs to realize this because they are integral in the creation of a positive experience, and they definitely didn’t hold up their end of the bargain. Like I said their music sounded good and they had a great stage presence, but it was overshadowed by the poor mix.
During their set Stevo and Yappers showed up with the West Coast Transplant known simply as Moser. He flew in on Friday and his surprise attack was quite welcome. Who would ever think that some company would fly Moser across the Continental U.S. of A. for “bizzness”? He was in top form as they took off before Film School had a chance to play. With the buzz surrounding Film School, I wasn’t going to take off before seeing some of their set. The San Francisco boys impressed me despite the same problems as The Head Set. The vocals felt like the weak link, but I’m sure they’ll improve as the band matures. The foundation is set for this band to become a West Coast representative of the style that meshes the indie droning of Ambulance Ltd with experimentation new comers Dirty On Purpose.
After the set I combed the area for some Sparks. It dawned on me that I was hammered, and walking around drinking Sparks from a straw wasn’t my best idea, so I stood on the corner of Ave B and 4th Street pounding the sweet nectar. With a newly buzzed head, I cruised into Ace Bar where a large crew had assembled. My wife came into town this weekend. If you didn’t know, I got married a few years ago to a nice southern bell named Lindsay. We are so cute together, so it’s a shame we don’t see more of each other. After a couple games of pool we shot up to Bside to drink some Tequila with Beach, Daylen and the ever so cute Wendy. My night started to blur so I removed myself from the potentially volatile situation and went home to sleep in my jeans.
Oh glorious Saturday, let me love you. Did you hear the storm around 8am on Saturday morning? All of the racket woke me up so I slid out of bed to take a piss only to find Kyle and Dee performing their interview process on the unsuspecting Rudy. I’ve never met two people that could match the party ability of Kyle and Dee. Fortunately, they are both championship sleepers, so recovery is never a problem. For some reason I couldn’t fall back asleep so I sat up reading until John, Alistair and Builder woke up for brunch. After a wait in the hurricane induced winds, we got a familiar table at Clinton Street Bakery. My quest to taste everything on their menu lead me to the Tunafish sandwich that was a-ok, but it couldn’t stand up against the Spanish Scramble.
During lunch Builder got worked up about taking advantage of the wind in terms of kite flying, so we decided to make a trip out to Prospect Park. Unfortunately the weather turned on us while we crossed the bridge, so instead we stopped by Academy Records on North 6th Street in the ‘Burg. God damn those record stores who don’t cater to those without turntables, but I have to say, if you work with vinyl you should go waste an afternoon at this store. We came back into the city and gave an old fuck you to the rest of the day.
My evening began with some dinner indecision. First stop, Max’s, where Lindsay and Hawkins were up for the hour table wait. Since I’m impatient and wanted to get my night started as early as possible, I met up with Builder, Miriam and Katriona for some sushi at Jeollado on 4th Street. This place was great. Excellent specialty rolls and big cans of Sapporo. I previously thought it was an extremely hip place that over charged its hipster clientele, but that assessment was way off. The price tag won’t break the bank and the food kicks Jackie Chan’s ass, (wait, I believe he is Chinese).
Following our A+ meal, we stopped into the Mud Spot that was celebrating their 1-Year Anniversary with a party in their newly expanded garden space. As we walked up to the café Kyle’s boss, Greg, came storming by with a few dudes, but I didn’t think much of it. When we got to the backyard, we realized Greg had gone in search of the jerk who was hosing down the party from a neighboring back yard. Um… Hello, Fuckhead, it’s only 10:30pm and you have the walnuts to hose down a group of people before taking any other action? After the rain stopped, we made our way to the bar. Ian was manning the operation and took good care of the loyal drinkers. Beers were cheap and spirits were high. The entire Mud Crew including Rudy, Scott, Liz, Rachel, Nina and Gretchen were rocking out deep into the night. Kyle made a point to introduce me to every girl in attendance, which in retrospect was more of an effort than I ever make.
As the night progressed, our friends started to poor into the back. First there was Cami, (a Red Bull crazed) Leah, Erin and Dan who were followed by Moser and Stevo. Then came the Champaign wielding Hawkins who arrived my wife. We continued getting sloppy (especially when the 2nd keg showed up), until 2am rolled around and Greg had to throw the hammer down. Congratulations to Mud Industries in their continued success. If you aren’t a fan of their java yet, go have a mocha.
We ended the evening back at the 186 in the smoke filled kitchen. Kyle, Dee, Erin and Dan were once again the late night champions.
The next morning I got some brunch with Builder and Lindsay at my favorite scallop spot, Essex. After the solid meal, Builder and I went to Howerton’s Dad’s apartment to watch the games in high definition. Chris has a crackhead dog named Rocco who was pretty fun to have around even with his spaz qualities. Rob, Beach and Daylen came through for the Jets game while Miriam and Katriona showed up in time for the feast.
Though it felt awfully short, we logged a solid weekend filled with good times.
Shit yeah it is. Audrey aka Melody Nelson aka that cute French girl is hosting another Atomique party this evening at Eleven. Tonight she booked the Tarts of Pleasure to spin you all the rock and soul that makes both sides of the Atlantic swoon. Check it.
This reminds me... My apologies the Stammers for not making it to Trash on Friday and to Dennis of the Sons of Sound for not making it to Sin-e on Saturday, (after Friday's experience, I don't know if I'll be back).
Oh and before I forget: Field Gay, round 2.
And Mom, if you made it home safely from your hurricane dodging, give your son a call. He's worried about you.
6 Comments:
Thank you!
[url=http://pqzemgtg.com/hrxs/tzhk.html]My homepage[/url] | [url=http://vgvbhdco.com/jbex/ojbf.html]Cool site[/url]
Nice site!
My homepage | Please visit
Nice site!
http://pqzemgtg.com/hrxs/tzhk.html | http://halewlry.com/tggs/cpxu.html
Nice site!
[url=http://vkeqqfge.com/yiwz/gjkc.html]My homepage[/url] | [url=http://dlbdgjhi.com/hjjw/vzaz.html]Cool site[/url]
Thank you!
My homepage | Please visit
Well done!
http://vkeqqfge.com/yiwz/gjkc.html | http://dxwcqyuq.com/ojeb/djdh.html
Post a Comment
<< Home