Now, I know what you’re thinking; it just snowed on Sunday. This doesn’t matter. We are making spring happen with our attitude. Can’t you tell that spirits are higher these days? Everyone knows that summer (aka titty season for some) is on its way, and the party is just getting started. When is the off season? The past few days have been a welcomed blur of little sleep and massive GT’s. Let me give you the run down in a somewhat abbreviated version.
No Sobriety Option
Someone Should Stop Me
The weekend was filled with many crazy moments, but Friday felt like a warm-up. It began with Cara stopping by 186 for a quick minute before we met Beach and Christie for fine dining at Festival. It’s been ages since I’ve stepped foot in the familiar establishment, and it hasn’t changed a bit. The margaritas are still tart and the chicken quesadilla maintains its divinity. We finished up quickly and hustled over to Mercury to catch The Head Set.
Sidenote: Today’s post will contain very little description about each set I took in this weekend. The fact remains it was a weekend built around partying for dead presidents in the company of great friends. All and all, mission accomplished.
The Head Set rocked something wonderful. Jordan manages to always surprise me with his stage presence. When did that cocktease get such a sexy swagger? Jordan, tell me where you purchased it; my swagger is in desperate need of an upgrade. At any rate, the night is such a distant cloud, but I can confirm that we saw Robbers On High Street. This was my first time taking in their set, and it was impressive. Yes, the Spoon reference is there, but it didn’t seem as apparent as the press tends to make it. At some point Beach and I snuck off to down my second or third Sparks of the evening. We plowed through it while shuffling our feet to the new Soft demo which is really fantastic, (despite my ambivalent feelings toward the live wank). Once we made it into the back room, Bishop Allen was already on stage. It’s easy for me to say that I love Bishop Allen, (and not just because they have the sexy). Their performances are always chocked full of great energy and earnest indie rock smiles. As The Upwelling took the stage, something inside thought it would be a good opportunity to flash my PDA skills. Sorry to all who had to witness. Wait, strike that, no apologies. After a bit of their set, my mind was shot and removal was the only option.Kiddy Pools, Shotguns And Puke
So Many Culkins
You probably won’t understand so maybe you should skip this day. The nature of the beast comes in many shapes and sizes. You’ll see the pictures. You’ll cover your eyes in horror. You’ll wonder at the disgust. Hopefully you’ll laugh at how stupid my friends and I tend to act. Maybe you’ll never want to talk to me again, but every once and awhile something like this has to happen to validate my existence. The look on Sarah’s face before taking her carbomb made me realize this sort of thing isn’t for everyone. If you are interested, come to Jeff’s party on Saturday for the 2am multimedia presentation. I’ll give a speech before blowing your collective minds and private parts.
Let’s start by saying Saturday started way to early. The stirring in our living room forced me out of bed. I found some lit up kids sitting in the soft yet sweaty glow of the red lights, (aka the coke lights). As they freaked out to the ongoing invasion by Sgt. Pepper and his lonely soldiers, I decided bed was the only viable option. Around noon, Jeff and Liz gave me a call because they were brunch hunting in the neighborhood. They stopped into 186 to pick up Dan, Cara and I for the dining. We decided on AKA Café which hasn’t impressed many, but the hanger steak slider is more addictive than crack, (my apologies to mom for all the drug references today; please don’t take them to heart). Throughout the meal we tossed around the freshest idea for a Builder burn. When Builder goes away on business, we tend to fuck with his room. Thankfully he is a great sport, and knows it comes out of love. In the past he’s been subject to the gay porn crusade and the toilet paper maze.Saturday’s burn involved an exhibition of sorts. It began with Liz and Jeff blowing up a kiddy pool that was given to Beach from Perry on his 24th birthday. Like most of Beach’s gifts, the pool was still at 186. With Kyle passed out firmly on the couch, we began the grand endeavor known only as Shotgun Challenge 2005. The challenge began with three contestants, but the field was quickly narrowed to two. It involved a gross display of 1999 like attitude and a fondness for all things disgusting. In the matter of an hour or two, Jeff and I managed to shotgun over a 12 pack a piece. The kicker was…. actually I’m not going to say anything else. Just be at Jeff’s party and bring your own barf bag. Let’s just say there was a lot of noise, and I’m lucky Cara still talks to me.
By 4:30pm the experiment was over. Jeff and I knifed the pool and took it to the street for disposal. Candles were lit. Feet were cleaned. Life pressed forward. We decided it was important to salvage the afternoon with some bar food from Nice Guys. Since they don’t deliver until 6pm, Beach did some serious egging to convince me to swing through the bar with him for a carbomb. The conversation went something like this:
Beach: Carbomb
GoodTimes: It’s 4:30pm and I’m already hammered.
Beach: Carbomb
GoodTimes: I can’t do it.
Beach: Carbomb
GoodTimes: Let’s Roll.
Twiggs and Stevo showed up as we pounded through some delicious fried food. By the time I swallowed my last bite, I was in the bedroom and down for the count. All I can say is: Warrior Mania II is definitely in the cards. As I woke from my slumber, the night whipped into action. The first task was to meet at the Bowery for a quick set by birthday boy and prize fighter Johnny Lives. Poor Dan had to suffer through a second set at the merch table for the kids in Brothers Past. We had a quick chat before I ran into Sky and George who seems to be making some headway with his band overseas. After a quick trip back to 186, I popped into Julep to grab Stevo and Jordan for the trip out to Brooklyn. Mike declined the offer to join the shittrain which ended up being his severe loss. The three of us caught up with an already rowdy Beach on the corner of Allen and Delancey. To make matters worse, they grabbed Sparks for the cab ride across the bridge. The foundation was laid for a great performance.
We met up with Mike, Rebecca and Diane (I think) in the corner deli by Bo and Liz’s apartment. We proceeded to buy a handful of 24oz PBRs which must have been sent directly from heaven. As we rolled into the party, we were greeted by the birthday boy. Things were a bit mellow, but we quickly changed the climate. There were tons of great kids there including Oveis (fucking jackass), Little Macchia, Virginia, Elliot, Gene!, Windskill, J.C., Christie, Mr. Smith, Meredith, Abe, a shit-toothed Action and other solid donkeys. The party became a bit rowdy after we sang a birthday tune. Some kid came up to me, wrapped his arms around me and began lifting me. This doesn’t sit right with a person who operates under a ‘No Touching’ guise. This prompted me to go into Culkin mode, (well, that and Beach’s incessant muttering in my ear regarding Culkining Gene). The same lifter guy came up to Rebecca and dropped to his knees, grabbed hers and started shaking them. I figured this was the last straw. He had to go down. I motioned to Jordan and knelt. Jordan got the unsuspecting gent with ease. The kid didn’t know what hit him.Since kids were taking whatever they wanted from the fridge, Beach and I had to make a beer run. This came after he got on the microphone to heckle Oveis who spent his night on the couch being gayer than Richard Simmons in Miami, (not that there’s anything wrong with it). Then some MC came on to spit over Kotchy’s beats, and Mr. Surly Pants was bitching the whole way to the beer store. We bought the place out of 24oz cans while Beach tried to lure some unsuspecting kid with a Choking Victim patch on his hoodie back to the party. It was all kind of homoerotic. Maybe Surly Jones has a thing for punks. Anyway, we got back upstairs and registered more Culkins than the past few weeks combined. In fact, Action went down four times in a row at the hands of Beach and Stevo. It was quite massive. I also managed to kneel for a couple of Culkins performed on Kevin.
As 2am rolled around the fridge was desperately empty. Justin and I decided to take it upon ourselves to collect some beer money for the mission. With 19bones in hand, we hit the street, but all the delis were closed. It’s just another reason for me to hate on Brooklyn. We set out on a search for the Holy Grail, and eventually Carter’s eye caught a dimly lit bodega at the end of a block. We hustled down and bought a bunch of Colt 45 just because I wanted to be a dick. We got back to the party and were heroes. As it erupted into a MTV Beach House meets Soul Train style dance party, Beach and I targeted Carter for one last Culkin before heading back to Manhattan.The night ended with an Odessa session that included Stevo, Action, Stevo, Belgium Waffles and Sausage. The place was packed and sitting next to us was some guy who had his ax in tow. A visibly drunken Stevo struck up a conversation with him and eventually got him to play, (despite his managers request for a guarantee). The dude broke out his guitar, plugged it into his battery powered amp and cruised through some Santana and Hendrix. He had the whole place rocking. It was a great time. Some faced guy got up to come watch him play and as he was taking a seat went straight to the ground. He later passed out, but ended up giving the dude an Andrew Jackson. We finished up, and I managed to close my eyes a bit after 7am.
Free Red Bull And Vodka Rocks
I Love Transvestites
Sunday started out slow with some laundry, a spot of work and a bit of a hang with Ms. Christie. She was in the neighborhood so we decided to catch ourselves up on last week’s episode of the O.C. It was an interesting episode, but I won’t get into it because of the already long winded nature of this post. Mike and Xtina showed up for a brief, but necessary meeting. Around 8pm it was time to get into costume, (read: put on a tie) for the evening’s trek to the renowned debacle known simply as Motherfucker.
I arrived at the Roxy a bit early and while waiting for Cara, I ran into Omri (sp?) who knew about Loose through Christina. It’s always great when someone mentions the site. Hopefully we’ll have it to you soon. The wheels are in steady motion. After some mix up with the list, we managed to carve out a nice spot at the end of the bar where we proceeded to slam back the free Red Bull and Vodka. As the hour progressed, we were joined by Jersey Dan and Adam who came into town for the party. We stood there chatting it up with various passerby’s until it was time for the show.The last time I saw Bloc Party, they played the Knitting Factory and I left the show wholly unimpressed. This mindset was wiped clean on Sunday as they blew me away. Maybe it was the 1500 drunk kids screaming out their lyrics. Maybe it was the top notch company. Maybe it was their songs being on fucking point. Either way, I’ve done a 180 and absolutely love this band. Though I’m not too familiar with the record, Banquet was a big winner and they finished the set with my favorite, Little Thoughts. The Tranny hostess came back out to help rally the crowd into frenzy for the encore. They popped out and played a great jam sending me away smiling. After a couple more drinks and some High School style running around, Cara and I decided to cut the chord.
Never Getting Out Of Bed
Say Hi To Your Mom
Ok, quick recap. Cara and I squeezed into Clinton Street for brunch before wasting the entire day doing nothing but listening to records. Jersey Dan stopped in and we grabbed a slice before heading to the Mercury to catch Cut the Wires who were actually quite good. I suspect you’ll see their name around more as kids begin to catch on. They have a quirky frontman who bounces around asking for a Culkin while the rest of the band guides him with music that we’d like to say was influenced by the Gang of Four, but really it sounds like ½ Rapture meets ½ Moving Units. Then Eric took the stage as a three piece and rocked out a great set. It’s always nice to see Say Hi To Your Mom; especially since Eric is such a nice guy on top of being a Grade A songsmith. My night ended with living room work session and the triumphant return of Builder.
The Shout Out Louds Are So Cute
We Drink Way To Much
Another quickie. The call was 6:30pm at Nice Guys. Builder and I met Jersey Dan and Beach. We were joined by the likes of Sarah, Gigs and Daylen for a couple of early evening carbombs and some more delicious bar food. Sean Bones and Andrew W. Gay, (sorry Ackerman, that just sounded funny to me in my current hung-over state) showed up just in time to say no to the first tequila shot presented by J.D. productions. We settled up and walked to the Bowery. Mr. Champion was running the show last night with the always present James. I ran around the club to say hello to everyone before heading downstairs to chat up Greg and Merida who kindly collaborated on hooking me up with a PBR. Then I sat with K at the coat check for a hot minute before bullshitting with Dan and Paul who were scooping the second door.
As I made my way to the back of the show room, the crew began to assemble. Besides all the Nice Guy people, we also had Rob, Sky, Cara, Matt G., Tumblehawk, Lucy, Mia, Jin, Half Nelson, Christen, Del and a few others floating around. The Shout Out Louds took the stage and played all my favorite songs. Since the room wasn’t packed yet, we cruised up to the front for a closer look. They rocked out something amazing. There is no question that this is currently my number one band. They are so sweet and so kick ass all at once. Their songs make me want to dance around like a hippie. It was great, and by the looks of the crew most felt the same. Once they finished up, I pulled a Mandel and grabbed the set list from the foot of the stage. We cruised downstairs for the hundredth Tequila shot of the evening before returning for a surprisingly fantastic set by The Futureheads, (go see them at Webster in June). As their set ended my need for sleep overcame all other desires and I passed out with my jeans on.If you read this post in its entirety, your next cheeseburger is on me.
10 Comments:
You owe me a cheeseburger.
And I'm me, I can't help it, I gotta ask what the kids still trip acid was a reference to. What did I miss?!
You owe me a cheeseburger too. (Stevo)
I think I can safely say that we made Saturday night our bitch (and all those kids at the party too).
tumble, the acid reference will be discussed later. lets just say some monkeys were trippin balls.
stevo, you are definitely on point with that. you were the king, and you scored a new bff.
cheeseburgers will be made in the backyard.
JJJay, will the cheese come from your tits? Thats the only way I'll be down...Culkin Steve
actual steve, it will come from my inner thighs. its the best aged cheddar this side of wisconsin.
Actually, I'm not the one who wanted to know from whence your sweet sweet cheddar will come from -- I'm sure it will tickle the palate regardless. I would like to issue a Culkin warrant for the Anonymous person that wants me culkined. Show yourself! Stevo out!
steve, turn the boiler off, culkin steve is culkin steve's name. you are stevo. he is culkin steve. get it? you maniac
Ahh. Apologies all around. Warrant rescinded, boiler turned off. Cheeseburgers are still rad.
Jay...Beach wants to know when you're taking us for our free Bistro Burgers and if there is any hope for Oveis to ever put up a solid showing?
I'm a pussy.
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