Per usual I was running late for work this morning. I knew my gas light was on but decided that I could easily make the 20 mile drive to work. I was very wrong. When I was about 10 miles away I noticed that my car was starting to lose power. I couldn't drive very fast and then all of a sudden, I couldn't drive at all. Luckily I was able to pullover to what I thought was a safe spot - an entrance ramp to the Northern State Parkway.
In a state of panic I tried calling my Dad - when he couldn't be reached right away I texted/bbm'd every guy I knew that could possibly offer me some sort of guidance in this type of situation.
After about 20 minutes of straight chillen on the entrance ramp, a police officer, lets call him Officer Jack-Ass, came over to see WTF my problem was. I explained my predicament and he went on a rant of how he could give me a ticket for this but probably won't. He then asked for my driver license and grilled me with so many questions. He wanted to know why I was coming from New York City if my address says Nassau County and if I was headed to work or really going to the beach (I have no idea why my destination point was relevant) etc. This cop and his seemingly never ending line of questioning was preventing me from calling my dad, my insurance company and roadside assistance.
Another 20 minutes has now passed, I am still on the entrance ramp sans gasoline and am on the verge of tears from frustration. OJA decides that my car can't remain where it is and tells me to put the car in neutral then let it roll about 50 feet to the end of the ramp and then up on the curb since there is no shoulder. I tell him I have never driven in neutral before. He does not care - he says he will stay behind me to make sure I make it. In the midst of freaking out, I shift the car to N and let it roll. The steering wheel is tight and I am on a ramp so I start to pick up some speed. I start to panic that the breaks won't work so once all 4 tires were up on the curb I simultaneously stepped on the break pedal and put the car in P. It jerked - but it stopped. At this point I was finally able to bid adieu to OJA and try making some phone calls.
While I am on hold with the insurance company Papa Dukes beeps in and tells me he will be right there to rescue me, to hang up with the insurance company and to just sit tight. He arrives about 15 minutes later puts some gasoline in my car, makes sure my car starts, yells at me for a bit then throws me his credit card and says to fill up the car all the way and get my ass to work.
It's like just when I was running out of blogspiration, my spazzy self manages to run out of gasoline on the highway. FML.
5.26.2010
4.23.2010
Miami - Where Everyone Is A Baller, Drinks Cost $18 And Apparently I Am More VIP Than I Am In New York
I went to Miami for vacation with my best friend Tuna. Tuna is a third grade teacher and wanted to get away for her spring break. I am always looking to get away, so I jumped at the chance to go to Miami. We spent our first night with one of my friends EM who recently moved down there with her fiance SD. They had a pregame in their 2 bedroom 3 bathroom apartment with views of the ocean. Upon seeing her very first apartment in Miami, Tuna exclaimed,
My friends took us to eat at a restaurant near their building called Kitchen 305 where we had all you can eat stone crabs and ladies were able to drink for free. SD is an amazing fiance and he and his friend bought Tuna and I our dinner. Thank you AGAIN! I love you. I then had the amazing opportunity to see where they were getting married and it was absolutely beautiful. Tuna and I drunkenly found our way back to the hotel to meet her friends who finally arrived and after rubbing it in their faces about the all you can drink and eat night we had. We decided to figure out plans for the rest vacation. AKA me telling them about all the other friends that I needed to see while we were down there...ha.
Thursday night began with dinner at Prime 112, thank you Papa Dukes for paying ;). We arrived a little early for our reservation and found a nice area by the bar to wait at. Here Amy and Leigh made friends with some guys who ended up buying us a round of drinks during our dinner and I managed to befriend a 45 year old. He basically told me that he wanted me to be his 3rd ex-wife and then bought me a French Martini. Thank you very much, Sir.
After a feast of oysters, lobster, crab cakes, filet mignon, short ribs and fondue we went to check out the nearby clubs. First stop was to be Wall at the W. Upon entering this guy, Eduardo, asks me for a hug. I willingly oblige as he was kind of cute and scored myself a free drink. This was lucky for me because the girls each had to pay $18 for one. Effing crazy!! We chilled at Wall for a little then went to Louis at the Gansevoort for some more partying and then back home to get up early and soak up some Vitamin D.
On Friday night after a delicious dinner at Barton G - Tuna and I get picked up by my friend Golden Nugget in his black Corvette. The two of us girls squish together in the front and off we go to GN's apartment where Tuna sees her 2nd Miami apartment and is truly amazed by how far the dollar goes down there versus NYC. Aside from the hallway/lobby looking like a hotel and the apartment itself being large, GN's view from his living room over looks the ocean and a gorgeous marina.
While pregaming with NUVO (awesome) Tuna gets a BBM from one of the other girls saying they were going to check out The Florida Room at the Delano Hotel. Tuna reads this aloud and says in a nasal tone of voice,
Golden Nugget then proceeds to call the front desk at his apartment building to request a cab and off we go for a non-amateur night in Miami.
After a cab ride from the only female non-Cuban driver who denied our friend MJ her number, we walked into the beautiful Fontainebleau Hotel. In the words of Momo:
GN walked us right up to the front of the line, passed the bouncers, passed the window where one would pay a cover charge and headed straight to the back of the club to the Center Tables. Supposedly the best seats in the house. Here is a view of the club from the center tables..
Tuna and I danced the night away, well she danced and I sorta did my shimmy. We decided it was time to leave when a random guy not only tried to dance with me but requested that he have his picture taken with me and asked Tuna to take at least 4 shots of us with his cell phone. We then went to meet up with Momo and Brian Boitano at Louis in the Gansevoort Hotel. We topped off our night with some shots and went back to our hotel for some shut eye.
I spent most of the day on Saturday with my Uncle D. He lives in Fort Lauderdale and was in Miami for the Gay Pride Parade. I mention this because it was such a weird experience to be surrounded by hundreds, literally hundreds, of hot shirtless men and have not one of them be interested in me.
Saturday night meant dinner at Joe's Stone Crab and Round Two at LIV. Tuna and I successfully convinced the other two girls to join us at LIV since our description from the night before could not be done justice without an actual visit. We were VIP again of course. This time we had the pleasure of being invited to two separate tables. One by my friend Adam who was attending a Bachelor Party and the other by Momo who was attending a Bachelorette Party. Only Tuna managed to avoid the cover charge this time though, she managed to sneak on by and run downstairs while I had to pay $20. I'll take it considering I did not spend another dollar the rest of the night. The Bachelor Party was a lot of fun, Adam provided us with non-stop drinks and his friends provided us with non-stop laughs via post-it notes that said things like:
The next day of course was misery. Tuna and I wandered around Lincoln Road until it was time to board the plane. We were hungover and miserable yet relaxed and so happy we went.
So good-bye Miami and thank you for confirming that I am getting old and its getting harder and harder to party like a rockstar.
But I will be back. Because in 25 years we will be celebrating Tuna's 50th Birthday with dinner at Barton G and an after party at LIV. Where us MILFs will be dressed to impress in Hot Pink mini dresses and lots of diamonds and Tuna will be jealous because my boobs will still be in the same place they are today. HA. HA. HA.
People are ballers in Miami. I am jealous.
My friends took us to eat at a restaurant near their building called Kitchen 305 where we had all you can eat stone crabs and ladies were able to drink for free. SD is an amazing fiance and he and his friend bought Tuna and I our dinner. Thank you AGAIN! I love you. I then had the amazing opportunity to see where they were getting married and it was absolutely beautiful. Tuna and I drunkenly found our way back to the hotel to meet her friends who finally arrived and after rubbing it in their faces about the all you can drink and eat night we had. We decided to figure out plans for the rest vacation. AKA me telling them about all the other friends that I needed to see while we were down there...ha.
Thursday night began with dinner at Prime 112, thank you Papa Dukes for paying ;). We arrived a little early for our reservation and found a nice area by the bar to wait at. Here Amy and Leigh made friends with some guys who ended up buying us a round of drinks during our dinner and I managed to befriend a 45 year old. He basically told me that he wanted me to be his 3rd ex-wife and then bought me a French Martini. Thank you very much, Sir.
After a feast of oysters, lobster, crab cakes, filet mignon, short ribs and fondue we went to check out the nearby clubs. First stop was to be Wall at the W. Upon entering this guy, Eduardo, asks me for a hug. I willingly oblige as he was kind of cute and scored myself a free drink. This was lucky for me because the girls each had to pay $18 for one. Effing crazy!! We chilled at Wall for a little then went to Louis at the Gansevoort for some more partying and then back home to get up early and soak up some Vitamin D.
On Friday night after a delicious dinner at Barton G - Tuna and I get picked up by my friend Golden Nugget in his black Corvette. The two of us girls squish together in the front and off we go to GN's apartment where Tuna sees her 2nd Miami apartment and is truly amazed by how far the dollar goes down there versus NYC. Aside from the hallway/lobby looking like a hotel and the apartment itself being large, GN's view from his living room over looks the ocean and a gorgeous marina.
While pregaming with NUVO (awesome) Tuna gets a BBM from one of the other girls saying they were going to check out The Florida Room at the Delano Hotel. Tuna reads this aloud and says in a nasal tone of voice,
The girls are at the De-Laaaaaaaaaa-NoGN immediately starts to laugh as do his two friends and says
"OMG you ARE definitely from New Jersey."Tuna then tells GN about the other plans the girls' have in store for the rest of the night and mentions the names of two other Miami bars. GN, who had just told us that the clubs we we went to the night before were amateur and that he was going to show us a really good time tonight, said that if he can name 50 places to go out, the two Tuna just named wouldn't even make the list.
Golden Nugget then proceeds to call the front desk at his apartment building to request a cab and off we go for a non-amateur night in Miami.
After a cab ride from the only female non-Cuban driver who denied our friend MJ her number, we walked into the beautiful Fontainebleau Hotel. In the words of Momo:
The Fontainebleau is like a city - and I want to be the Mayor
GN walked us right up to the front of the line, passed the bouncers, passed the window where one would pay a cover charge and headed straight to the back of the club to the Center Tables. Supposedly the best seats in the house. Here is a view of the club from the center tables..
Tuna and I danced the night away, well she danced and I sorta did my shimmy. We decided it was time to leave when a random guy not only tried to dance with me but requested that he have his picture taken with me and asked Tuna to take at least 4 shots of us with his cell phone. We then went to meet up with Momo and Brian Boitano at Louis in the Gansevoort Hotel. We topped off our night with some shots and went back to our hotel for some shut eye.
I spent most of the day on Saturday with my Uncle D. He lives in Fort Lauderdale and was in Miami for the Gay Pride Parade. I mention this because it was such a weird experience to be surrounded by hundreds, literally hundreds, of hot shirtless men and have not one of them be interested in me.
Saturday night meant dinner at Joe's Stone Crab and Round Two at LIV. Tuna and I successfully convinced the other two girls to join us at LIV since our description from the night before could not be done justice without an actual visit. We were VIP again of course. This time we had the pleasure of being invited to two separate tables. One by my friend Adam who was attending a Bachelor Party and the other by Momo who was attending a Bachelorette Party. Only Tuna managed to avoid the cover charge this time though, she managed to sneak on by and run downstairs while I had to pay $20. I'll take it considering I did not spend another dollar the rest of the night. The Bachelor Party was a lot of fun, Adam provided us with non-stop drinks and his friends provided us with non-stop laughs via post-it notes that said things like:
The Blue Post-It's are for the girls we really likeand
I like when they turn on the lights because I can see how pretty you areThe night consisted of alot of dancing (even I did) and drinking Jack straight from the bottle (I think only I did) and lots of crazy shenanigans. I woke up in my bed at the hotel half way in my pajamas with a half of a snickers bar next to me and a bottle of water. Apparently the girls ordered themselves room service, all I wanted was a chocolate bar...shocking.
The next day of course was misery. Tuna and I wandered around Lincoln Road until it was time to board the plane. We were hungover and miserable yet relaxed and so happy we went.
But I will be back. Because in 25 years we will be celebrating Tuna's 50th Birthday with dinner at Barton G and an after party at LIV. Where us MILFs will be dressed to impress in Hot Pink mini dresses and lots of diamonds and Tuna will be jealous because my boobs will still be in the same place they are today. HA. HA. HA.
4.05.2010
My Hero Blogs About Her Hot Pocket - For Obvious Reasons This Needed To Be Censored!!
Wild Child is my hero. She and I met freshman year of college when we pledged the same sorority and have since become each others girl crush great friends. We share a passion for living life to the fullest, being surrounded by crazy good people and we both have yellow auras.
WC has a blog that isextremely raunchy very entertaining and is verging on being "X Rated" slightly ill-suited for the little ones. Whereas mine sits comfortably, and will remain, in the "pg-13" zone. WC tells stories about her drunken party-girl lifestyle in Rhode Island and the lives of her equally drunken crazy/cool friends. She does things like refer to her va-jayjay lady parts as "Hot Pocket" or the very inappropriate my favorite "Lower Manhattan." There have been posts about "dinner and dildo dates" girls' nights out and sexcapades good times with good friends. BUT! The very best thing about her blog is that Yours Truly makes a lot but not enough (in my opinion) frequent appearances.
In order toget WC to stop asking level the playing field with regards to telling our readers how great we are posting about each other. I have decided to share one of her many more recent hooking up guy stories.
Wild Child met ahot piece of ass nice young Rhode Island dude at a bar through a mutual friend. Words were exchanged and finally BBM Barcodes were scanned and sexting witty banter led to plans to meet up the very next night. That night, Wild Child and her new Flavor Of The Week friend are participating in some heavy petting friendly conversation when their eyes get diverted to the bathroom door. WC says, "If we were dating right now...." and FOTW finishes her thought with "we would have sex hang out in the bathroom?" Wild Child smiled at the fact that this guy was right there with her very sexual/kinky thought process and then she became completely obsessed even more excited when he said "We will, in about 8 months."
Updates of their blossomingsexual relationship friendship will definitely be shared. I can not wait to hear more.
I just told Wild Child that I think this post about her is my best work yet. She replies:
WC has a blog that is
In order to
Wild Child met a
Updates of their blossoming
I just told Wild Child that I think this post about her is my best work yet. She replies:
I'm wet just thinking about it. Ha.
Evidently Guidos Are Spazzy Too
Whenever I am in need of a laugh I can always rely on Hank Muscles to tell me a good Guido story. Whether it be about his hair not looking exactly how he wants it or that he ate really badly the day before. Or my all time favorite - something along the lines of his muscles just not being where they should be considering we are already a week into April and summer is just around the corner.
Today's story out did any other. I literally almost peed my pants.
Everyone does weird shit when they are alone. I am sure of that. But I think HM might have us all beat. Basically, Hank Muscles likes to practice his fist pumping Jersey Shore style crazy ass mofo dance moves in the shower. But last Thursday, things went terribly wrong.
Here is the scene. HM is in the shower and Cascada's "Evacuate The Dance Floor" is blaring on the radio. The beat starts building and HM is loving the music and is not only fist pumping in the shower - but has starting doing really awesome spin moves.
Poor HM has a cut on his right elbow and a welt on his left forearm. I didn't know if I should laugh or feel bad. So obviously I laughed at him and requested to blog about it.
The scenario wasn't so funny for Hank in the moment. He laid on his back in the tub staring at the ceiling for about 15 minutes just feeling humiliated and "utterly defeated."
Next time you try out new dance moves. Try and do it on a dry surface. SPAZ. I don't need to start worrying about YOU hurting yourself. You're supposed to be the one who worries about me!!!
Today's story out did any other. I literally almost peed my pants.
Everyone does weird shit when they are alone. I am sure of that. But I think HM might have us all beat. Basically, Hank Muscles likes to practice his fist pumping Jersey Shore style crazy ass mofo dance moves in the shower. But last Thursday, things went terribly wrong.
Here is the scene. HM is in the shower and Cascada's "Evacuate The Dance Floor" is blaring on the radio. The beat starts building and HM is loving the music and is not only fist pumping in the shower - but has starting doing really awesome spin moves.
Like figure skater legit spin moves. - HMHank Muscles completely lost himself in the music and spun off the safety mat and landed not very gracefully on the side of the tub. His elbows are completely bruised and they still hurt. I was promised pictures. Get on that HM!!! GRRR!
Poor HM has a cut on his right elbow and a welt on his left forearm. I didn't know if I should laugh or feel bad. So obviously I laughed at him and requested to blog about it.
The scenario wasn't so funny for Hank in the moment. He laid on his back in the tub staring at the ceiling for about 15 minutes just feeling humiliated and "utterly defeated."
And the worst part...I came down with a thunderous crash, probably shook the whole house, [because of his huge muscles mass] and none of my roommates even came in my room to make sure i didn't fall in the shower or something. But I'm glad they didn't as I would have had to explain why Cascada was blaring and why I was laying on my back in the bathtub - HMNice friends you got there Hank.
Next time you try out new dance moves. Try and do it on a dry surface. SPAZ. I don't need to start worrying about YOU hurting yourself. You're supposed to be the one who worries about me!!!
4.01.2010
Attack Of The Pigeons!!
Springtime is the time of year when flowers start to bloom, trees start to turn green again and animals give birth. If you live in the suburbs than you have an abundance of adorable little critters running around. But, if you live in New York City than you are very blessed with an abundance of baby pigeons, rats and squirrels. For the purpose of this story, I am going to focus on the most beautiful of all birds - THE PIGEON.
These creatures hang out in New York City, shit everywhere and most recently have decided to chill outside of my roommate Eve's (thanks Sabotage for helping me with the nickname) window. Eve is a vegetarian and very much against the harming of animals but she is getting annoyed because the pigeons are waking her up very early in the morning everyday. She has been placing numerous calls to our Super and to the Super's assistant for some time now and they have gone unanswered until this past Monday. According to the S.A. I'm An Idiot, Eve has a pigeon's nest under her air-conditioner. She asked IAI if it can be removed. Something apparently got lost in translation because the nest is still there and poor Eve keeps being woken up at 6:30am by the chirping, squealing and fluttering of disgusting pigeons.
As she is telling this story, almost on the verge of tears from being so effing pissed off, I have the ingenious idea to go to our courtyard and throw stones at the nest until it falls. PROBLEM SOLVED. Of course I can not be the one to throw the stones. Not that I am against hurting the pigeons (sorry PETA people) but because I am a SPAZ and I am afraid I might break a window or something (that is if I can even throw the stone that high or far). Eve wasn't cool with that idea until yesterday. She really just can't take it anymore!
Sabatoge offered two ideas that don't involve the harming of the pigeons. #1 - we should get one of those fake owl things to scare them away. #2 - Eve should tell the Super she has some kind of crazy allergy towards all kinds of birds and their poop.
If those don't work - I vote for stone throwing.
The way I feel about killing animals is similar to the way Kelly Bensimon feels about fur.
“PETA isn’t saying, ‘Don’t wear fur.’ PETA is saying, ‘Don’t abuse animals.’ And I’m not abusing animals. I’m just wearing fur … Do I wear fur? Yes. Do I support the abuse of animals? No.”
As dumb as she sounds, I kind of understand it. I don't want to hurt animals. I am not a vegetarian by any standards nor am I kosher because I absolutely love the taste of bacon. But I won't eat veal because I am very much against the torture of the poor little cows. AND I have absolutely NO problem throwing stones at a pigeon's nest so my roommate can get some sleep!!
Do any of you have any ideas how to get rid of the pigeons? Any volunteers to throw stones? Eve's boyfriend Adam is away for a few more days and desperate times call for desperate measures!!!
I'll keep you posted on what happens. If this matter doesn't get solved by the weekend I may have to attempt to throw the stones myself. A video will definitely be included for your enjoyment.
As she is telling this story, almost on the verge of tears from being so effing pissed off, I have the ingenious idea to go to our courtyard and throw stones at the nest until it falls. PROBLEM SOLVED. Of course I can not be the one to throw the stones. Not that I am against hurting the pigeons (sorry PETA people) but because I am a SPAZ and I am afraid I might break a window or something (that is if I can even throw the stone that high or far). Eve wasn't cool with that idea until yesterday. She really just can't take it anymore!
Sabatoge offered two ideas that don't involve the harming of the pigeons. #1 - we should get one of those fake owl things to scare them away. #2 - Eve should tell the Super she has some kind of crazy allergy towards all kinds of birds and their poop.
If those don't work - I vote for stone throwing.
The way I feel about killing animals is similar to the way Kelly Bensimon feels about fur.
“PETA isn’t saying, ‘Don’t wear fur.’ PETA is saying, ‘Don’t abuse animals.’ And I’m not abusing animals. I’m just wearing fur … Do I wear fur? Yes. Do I support the abuse of animals? No.”
As dumb as she sounds, I kind of understand it. I don't want to hurt animals. I am not a vegetarian by any standards nor am I kosher because I absolutely love the taste of bacon. But I won't eat veal because I am very much against the torture of the poor little cows. AND I have absolutely NO problem throwing stones at a pigeon's nest so my roommate can get some sleep!!
Do any of you have any ideas how to get rid of the pigeons? Any volunteers to throw stones? Eve's boyfriend Adam is away for a few more days and desperate times call for desperate measures!!!
I'll keep you posted on what happens. If this matter doesn't get solved by the weekend I may have to attempt to throw the stones myself. A video will definitely be included for your enjoyment.
3.29.2010
Tales Of Starsky And Hutch Or How I Ended Up Back At Mars Bar...
Meet DBall:
Back Story:
DBall has been my best friend for many years now but we got very close when we broke up with our college boyfriends and started getting into all kinds of trouble in 2004. We used to go by the nicknames Starsky and Hutch (the Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson version). She was Starsky, the uptight play by the rules cop and I was Hutch, the cool and easygoing member of the duo. The joke of it is, that DBall only appears to be uptight and rule following. When you first meet her she may seem like a Miranda type (minus the ugly red hair and being a lesbian) because she is a successful business woman and would probably get married and have a baby now if her boyfriend was up for it. But, in reality, DBall is one crazy mofo.
Present Time:
DBall and I try to get together at least once a month to catch up on each others lives over dinner and drinks. Recently these nights have not been as wild and crazy as they were when we were in college. But last Wednesday, we went wild. Literally.
We started out our night with a lovely dinner at La Esquina where prim and proper DBall told me about a charity she was involved with where she helps out underprivileged children. This was funny to me because DBall doesn't know how to relate to small children. She is one way - prim, proper and mature - and that is it. She talks to babies, animals and small children like she would to an adult.
At her last event she was paired up with a sweet little girl from the inner city. They got off on a really great foot because DBall's first question was about the little girl's parents. The girl replied that she lives with her grandma because her mom is dead and she doesn't know her dad. Nice one D.
The activity of the day involved making a bunny to commemorate Easter. The girl was a bit of sped and tried to put what should be the bunny's foot as its nose. DBall says to this little girl:
La Esquina is a Mexican restaurant that serves Tequila Flights. So after dinner DBall and I were pretty bombed and decided it was best not to go home, but rather continue our night out. I'm really not sure how it happened. But we basically bar hopped around the East Village and our final destination was the one and only Mars Bar.
Yes, the dive bar that I said I presumed was worse than prison and was probably owned by the devil himself. While there I made friends with a 41 year old Israeli and because he was from Israel I assumed he knew Hebrew and immediately proceeded to sing him my Haftorah. I didn't even know I still remembered it - but the Israeli was impressed and was even able to determine when my birthday was based on the content of the Torah portion. I also managed to make friends with the woman in the picture below because I thought her tattoo was pretty and I wanted to touch it.
(for some reason I can't upload this picture) - go to this site to view -
http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs466.snc3/25597_663163343324_14300602_38203695_4091193_n.jpg
I am also now best friends with the bartender, Popeye (like the sailor man - I asked), who I told about my first horrifying experience at his bar. He promised I will be under his protection if I ever choose to go back there again. Gee, thanks Popeye...
Back Story:
DBall has been my best friend for many years now but we got very close when we broke up with our college boyfriends and started getting into all kinds of trouble in 2004. We used to go by the nicknames Starsky and Hutch (the Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson version). She was Starsky, the uptight play by the rules cop and I was Hutch, the cool and easygoing member of the duo. The joke of it is, that DBall only appears to be uptight and rule following. When you first meet her she may seem like a Miranda type (minus the ugly red hair and being a lesbian) because she is a successful business woman and would probably get married and have a baby now if her boyfriend was up for it. But, in reality, DBall is one crazy mofo.
Present Time:
DBall and I try to get together at least once a month to catch up on each others lives over dinner and drinks. Recently these nights have not been as wild and crazy as they were when we were in college. But last Wednesday, we went wild. Literally.
We started out our night with a lovely dinner at La Esquina where prim and proper DBall told me about a charity she was involved with where she helps out underprivileged children. This was funny to me because DBall doesn't know how to relate to small children. She is one way - prim, proper and mature - and that is it. She talks to babies, animals and small children like she would to an adult.
At her last event she was paired up with a sweet little girl from the inner city. They got off on a really great foot because DBall's first question was about the little girl's parents. The girl replied that she lives with her grandma because her mom is dead and she doesn't know her dad. Nice one D.
The activity of the day involved making a bunny to commemorate Easter. The girl was a bit of sped and tried to put what should be the bunny's foot as its nose. DBall says to this little girl:
Don't do that! The foot is too big to be the nose. If you put it there, this little bunny will want to have a nose job when she grows up.I swear to G-d that is what she told this girl. In response the girl asked what a nose job was. My very mature best friend replied with a very technical definition:
People get nose jobs when they aren't happy with the way their nose looks. Like, see I have a bump in my nose and want to get a nose job. So I would go to the doctor and he would cut open my nose, shave down the bump and then put it back together again.The little girl was horrified. You're Lucky You're Pretty DBall.
La Esquina is a Mexican restaurant that serves Tequila Flights. So after dinner DBall and I were pretty bombed and decided it was best not to go home, but rather continue our night out. I'm really not sure how it happened. But we basically bar hopped around the East Village and our final destination was the one and only Mars Bar.
Yes, the dive bar that I said I presumed was worse than prison and was probably owned by the devil himself. While there I made friends with a 41 year old Israeli and because he was from Israel I assumed he knew Hebrew and immediately proceeded to sing him my Haftorah. I didn't even know I still remembered it - but the Israeli was impressed and was even able to determine when my birthday was based on the content of the Torah portion. I also managed to make friends with the woman in the picture below because I thought her tattoo was pretty and I wanted to touch it.
(for some reason I can't upload this picture) - go to this site to view -
http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs466.snc3/25597_663163343324_14300602_38203695_4091193_n.jpg
I am also now best friends with the bartender, Popeye (like the sailor man - I asked), who I told about my first horrifying experience at his bar. He promised I will be under his protection if I ever choose to go back there again. Gee, thanks Popeye...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)