Oh hai...

Its my favorite song right now!
Too bad every time they are performing in new york its sold out in 3 seconds and I don't get tickets.

Boys Will Be Boys. Will Be Retards.

THE AAALPAHAAABETTTTTT!
NUUUUUMBERRRRRRS!
I'm DEFINITELY GONNA SHIT EVERYWHERE!

Siddown eatcha slice a' pizzer an' be quiet.

Aherm.
I think I am ready to tackle the blog that is New Years Eve.
Jesus H.

To begin, I am unapologetically bossy. So the evening began by me telling Sam and Scott to "hurry up and come over" so I could rush them to Studio B to buy tickets at the door before it was too late. I, of course, had mine already. Control.
Didn't matter. The genuinely mentally disabled "just off the boat" car service driver we had took nearly an hour to get us in "the vicinity" of Banker St. We had to get out and take a cab the rest of the way. Do you see? DO YOU SEE? This is why there is no meshing of the clans of Brooknah and Manhattan. Because of the great vehicular divide.

So we get there.
The doorman stole my water bottle but let Sam keep hers. Good thing because for once, she was the one hiding the vodka. Then some girl stamped my hand and I told her I had to go do some shit, what was the deal with leaving and coming back?
She informed me it was no problem as long as I didn't do too much X and sweat the stamp off.
Ok 1997 doorlady, I'm on tappa theeeat. Thanks.

So we were basically in and out, had to go see the Turkish Delight JJ at Southside Speakeasy and handle some biz. New Years Eve is the official night of "Be right back, gotta go pick something up." Duh.

JJ's tatas were on full display and we drank and drank a bit and the music was super crap. Sorry guys, no Coldplay allowed ever in public. But there were excellent people there so no big.

JJ and Marty Chops.

PS the sign above her head says SHOWERS OF HAPPINESS. Genius.
What happened before we went back to Studio B? Nothing I don't think, but I hadnt seen my girl in ages so it was a treat.

Back at Studio B (this is starting to read like a screenplay)
we found Sterp (the most beautiful girl in a black mini dress wiiiiiiiiiiiink) and got some wristbands which was helpful. VIP is overrated. There are a lot of dbags lolling around thinking being in VIP justifies all of their lameness. No. It doesn't.
Aherm: Fat guy in wife beater. Big Pun was sweatin.

Another lovely surprise, there is the handsome Russian vampire Mikael. Awes. So we sit and drink and drink and Kudu plays some serious gay club shit until midnight I guess when we had the countdown. I couldn't hear a thing for some reason. Clubs hurt.
Ah, at that time, Krista had arrived yay Krista the sweetest girl in this shitty city. I like to talk to her for long periods of time ignoring my surroundings.

Here's Sam and Scott before they started arguing about nothing. Oh Sam. Kiss and make up assholes you know you lurve eachother.
Drum roll. Slick Rick the RULER at midnight or somewheres thereafter. AWES. There was some old school new school shit happening, I was the annoying white girl yelling all of the lyrics. I also elbowed people to get camera phone shots. This is where you stop reading the blog, draw my face on a grapefruit, and pummel it. I am pretty sure I was the biggest asshole around at that point.


"Hi I don't really dance I just wear sequins and keep my shimmering afro sexahhh. No big."

Yada Yada, Slick Rick, bathroom photos OY,

girl talk, cigarette smoking, HEY LETS GO BACK TO SEE JJ!
OK, good idea.
At this point we have spent our life savings on cabs, whats the damage of some more money wasted?
So we walk in the barren wasteland that is Brooknah and run into a giant checkered bastard and his tranny sidekick. Awes.
He looks like Leigh Bowery only far less of a doughy mess. His name is Jordan. And he's creepy.




We get back to Southside Rarr Rarr Rarr, Miss Orlinsky shows up after shooting for Reuters in Times Square, how she escaped that is beyond me.

It's like 3 am and JJ is faced. I remember asking her for a drink and she said no because she couldn't "find it"
Find the drink?
Slow down sister you have to make it, you're the bartender.
Awes.

So more excess. Same story every year until you have kids and you have to pretend to like staying home watching fucking Shrek on DVD.
We shut the bar down I dunno what time I guess 5 something. We go back to JJ's for a night cap/ Ha.
Included in the next few hours is
1. me arguing with a tall puerto rican boy who I named 19 (as in his age from the looks of it)
2. Sam and some dude smooching like little birds
3. Katie passing out early snugged in JJ's bed with not a care in the world
4. JJ giggling about all the beers she took home
5. more JJ giggling as she played that SAME FUCKING SONG she used to play in our apt when she was fucked up....that rap bullshit "something something hammock man, what the fuck is a sammich man?" Ugh. Kill me.
6. I don't remember.

I had fun.
No makeout sesh.
No serious dance fever.
But it was a riot.

Until the following day when I crawled out of Brooknah hoping to be the victim of some stray bullet.





Pammy bitched the whole way back to the LES.


Love,
the girl who ended 2007 with 13 hours of destruction. Hol.Ler.

Happy Endings. Accurate.

So I just got home from Brooklyn and boy is my liver tired.
Super Stephanie put me up at her crib after a night of mayhem.
To begin, all parties should start at 7 pm sharp. It totally makes the night seem endless in a good way.
So....
I get to the Playgirl party at Happy Endings with wet boots and a shitty attitude. Typical.
There's a line. Already. At 7:20.
Just what I need, a girl in line behind me from Canada (of course) starts talking to me about sexy fiction novels having bad endings and "beefcakes". Ugh. What a Canadian.
Anyway, as soon as I walk in I see my gal Corrine looking banging as usual and the ever smiling Felicia. Thank God I don't find her zest for life irritating.
So Felicia is somehow drunk already which is hilar. I go to the bar and the only free shit is some weird Tennessee rum. OOOOOOOOK. Needless to say, pour me a glass lackey, my gullets dry.
So I'm getting drunk as quickly as possible and Corrine nearly passes out which was not cool. That vasovagal response shit is no joke. Poor booski. Whatever, she's fine. Love you.
So Sterp and Chiara and Denise and Jiwon appear and that was great. Good crowd ladies.
Some old smelly fat guy was dancing like a maniac for the whole 3 hour party. He sucked by the way. He seriously also smelled like shit. Then with Chiara as my wingman I stuck a poster of a naked dude with a xmas ball hanging from his dickhole on some guy's back. That made me laugh!
So all in all, it was a good sitch. By the way, I hate downstairs at Happy Endings. That shit makes me feel like I'm tripping. Those lights and the tiled wall rooms...so creepsville.
At the end of the swaree we got some goody bags and guess what I got?! A glittery pink vibe! Word.
I also decided to bring home a copy of the issue so when my heterosexual subletter comes here Jan. 1 I can make him slightly uncomfortable when he goes into the bathroom.
Yay Jokes!

So then we go to see Red Ed at Galapagos in BK. There was some misteltoe party. I never get smooched. I hate BK, but I love Stephanie so I let her boss me around sometimes. I missed the balls out of her these last couple months. True story.
Anyway theres a cover at Galapagays so Corrine and Chiara bounce. And Felicia the Shaderican doesn't pay she just asks to go to the bathroom and dude lets her slide I guess. Aw, Felicia so cute. I get a lot drunker, theres some asshole bands and Denise and Stephanie and I have much fun. We take some holiday pictures with the worst photog ev. I switch over to vodkas and I'm in the danger zone,but no big deal.
Denise makes me laugh. I try to guess everyones zodiac sign, which means I'm housed. I get most of them right except this white supremacist looking dude who bought me a drink. For some reason that annoyed me so I told him he had a receding hair line and that we all hate Sagitarius.
According to Stephanie the night ended with me laying on the wet sidewalk and Denise following suit. Then Mommy Porto put us in a cab and I snuggled up to her all night long. Yay!
I awoke to this at 730 am:




I'm excited for this homemade Chex Mix and brownies. And booze. Girlfriend throws a good holiday party. I wish Libby wasnt in gay Pareee (ahem Paris) because it won't be the same without her.

I think I should hurry up and marry Sterp before some idiot gets their hands on her.
Then she and I and Lucy can live happily ever after the end.

Poosday

So Tally Dead Dead and I were discussing what the weeks all about.
I think Sunday is like torturous early labor, Monday is like the birth, and Tuesday is the horrific pointless afterbirth. Gross, good God, why did you make Tuesdays. Or Ruby Tuesdays for that matter. Imagine being so bum that you are a notch below TGI Fridays in the chain restaraunt pecking order. Hi I'll have the goat cheese fiesta hotdog bites to start. And the shits for dessert.
I always have lame Tuesdays, it's like a universal rule.
Wednesdays are my astrologically in tune days. Never a prob.
Thursdays are why-can't-I-just-call-out-tomorrow days and Fridays are Fridays. Awes.

Tally is probably the best person to have this conversation with though because hes she a creep.
Originally his name was Twirl, but that kind of moniker wears off easily. Tally has been calling me Precious lately, or just Presh. I'm into it. He thinks I will hate it but he's wrong like always.
Tally used to tell the best stories about unloading trucks for a living. He lives in some podunk town in Pennsyltucky and is maybe the raddest thing to come out of the woods since Grendel.
Seriously.
He makes everyone laugh what with his slow mo winking and awkward joke delivery.
The first time he came to my mums in jersey we tried to start fires in the yard and we ate stir fry.
We also found out we speak in a similar retardo language and laughed about salt and pepper shakers the size of garden statues.
Tally looks like Holocaust Jesus but hes way less intense than the image projects. He's like a burst of dandelion scented wind passin through. He shows up in Chinatown eating raw chef Boyardee raviolis babbling about about making music out of old tape recorders, twigs and string.
Tally likes to drink rum and cokes and rubs it in my face that they are about 75 cents at these townie bars he frequents in PA. Sometimes I have to hear about him tripping balls and discovering the universe like a fucking mushroom yogi.

Tally annoys me so much sometimes I just want to break off his Olive Oil legs and beat him with them but then again he's the best thing to ever have found me on the internet. He is such a genius at being alive. Like not actually DOING anything, but having all this stuff to talk about anyway.

And ya can't tap thee-at.