Hello Reader(s?)
You may have noticed a dramatic decrease in output in the last three months. This is due both to increase in work and a lack of storied party nights (ah, the curse of aging). However, I have found (mostly to my shock) that I really like having this blog, so I will be altering its mission statement a bit.
I still will chronicle the ridiculous drinking habits of myself and my associates, but will also post about other things. I may go on rants about tourists or the increased prices at Grey’s Popayas. I may occasionally critique art is some capacity. I may also go on long depressing tangents about the nature of life and being a mid twenties doof living in the big city.
I will admit in advance, occasionally I will post something that is of no interest to anyone but me. Feel free to skip these posts and wait for the posts where Hubris and I get drunk at 9 am and assault NYU students on the street (EPL season beginning is August, and since Hubris is blogging less and less, I may blog more on the subject). Just know that this site will be for great drinking stories as well as a soap box for my rants and my navel gazing.
I do ask that you please keep checking, as I am sure to do something hilarious at some point, and you may find me bitching about stuff hilarious as well.
Thanks
Q.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
A Drinker's Journey
The other Saturday I was the NY drunkard Odysseus, wandering the Adriatic Sea of Manhattan attempting to return to my beloved wife, A Good Drunken Time.
The Trojan War that had taken me away, work, required me to be at the theatre from 1 to 2pm. As soon as I was out, I headed down to Nevada Smiths to some of the Euro Cup. It was a true mini-homecoming, returning to this dark crowded bar as the sun burned brightly outside, the noble bartender Jack the Irish offering me a warm hello and a cold ale. Hubris and I drank up and watched Cristiano Ronaldo possibly break the diving record, taking a pratfall about 7 seconds into the match. Much lamentable, Hubris had to face his own war (being a waiter), and we departed after the first half.
Wandering without friends, and with 3 hours to kill before returning to battle (work) I decided to take in a show. The best available option fitting my journey was You Don’t Mess with the Zohan. The picture was about has good as to be expected, with moments of inspired brilliance (Michael Buffer as a bad guy!) and many a flat falling dick joke. When the film concluded, I journeyed back to the Upper West Side, for another round of battle (work).
Once battle (work) was concluded, I needed to find a safe harbor to plan my next move. Beloved Stout, where noble Teach tends bar, proved to be the perfect option. I rode the 2 line, Quick of Wheel and Heavy of Smell, down to the Garment District, and traveled deep into the bowels of Stout, to famed Dart Alley, where Teach and this adorable young lass, “Yank”, tended bar. I feasted upon much ale and dined upon an acceptable tuna salad. I send various missives out to comrades in arms, hoping to unite in revelry. As I waited, a bachelor party came down to dart alley and demanded a plethora of car bombs. Teach and I did mock them via text message as they chugged. In time the Valiant Bourbon Samurai took up the call and arrived at Dart Alley, craving ale and entertainment. We stayed and laid waste to the Smithwick keg until the Bachelor party made use of the karaoke machine. Their wails shall sound in the darkest pits of Tatarus. We needed a new quest, and decided to join The Banker at a bar on the Upper East Side.
Bourbon Samurai and I hailed a noble yellow traveling steed (cab) and went to the address the Banker had texted me. Alas, the bar was not there, only mass construction for the mythical 2nd Ave. line. There was fear we had been set up for an ambush! I texted Banker again, and a new address arose, leading us around the corner. We traveled about, again no bar. I finally use the phone part of my phone to call the crafty Banker and find where the battlefield lay. A final address was offered, and a bar located.
Banker, his comrade in arms Espny, and Espny’s woman Mrs. Espny, were in attendance of a friend’s birthday. We joined them for festivities, myself knowing the birthday boy in question. As an added bonus, our friend Chipmunk happened to work at said bar, and we were able to catch up with her. The Birthday boy and his colleagues were impressed with our company (despite her nickname, Chipmunk is well above average in appearance). As time passed, Bourbon and I craved new adventures, and send missives to our comrades. The Gymnast hailed to us from a gathering on the Upper West Side, and requested our presence. This seemed like the path to travel, so we made plans to head west. We, being men of honor, bought a round of shots for the birthday boy and our friends, then journeyed westward.
We arrived on the Upper West Side, a tad buzzed and without bearings. We buzzed on the wrong door, and walked by the some disreputable groups of man, fearing our journey would end in ruin. But after much wanderings, we found the castle at which Gymnast and his twin were revealing. We drank of ales and met many of Gymnast’s comrades, and had a grand conversation with two brave lads who plowed the trade of Stage Combat. This quite delighted Bourbon, and they shared stories of (staged) combat. Gymnast and I went in search of herbal sustenance, but found ourselves too late. Time passed and we became weary, deciding time had come to take a yellow steed (cab) back to the home fort.
Thus ended a night filled with travel, where I was to drank in many harbors, and raised toasts with many a good friend across with isle we call Manhattan. Good cheer.
The Trojan War that had taken me away, work, required me to be at the theatre from 1 to 2pm. As soon as I was out, I headed down to Nevada Smiths to some of the Euro Cup. It was a true mini-homecoming, returning to this dark crowded bar as the sun burned brightly outside, the noble bartender Jack the Irish offering me a warm hello and a cold ale. Hubris and I drank up and watched Cristiano Ronaldo possibly break the diving record, taking a pratfall about 7 seconds into the match. Much lamentable, Hubris had to face his own war (being a waiter), and we departed after the first half.
Wandering without friends, and with 3 hours to kill before returning to battle (work) I decided to take in a show. The best available option fitting my journey was You Don’t Mess with the Zohan. The picture was about has good as to be expected, with moments of inspired brilliance (Michael Buffer as a bad guy!) and many a flat falling dick joke. When the film concluded, I journeyed back to the Upper West Side, for another round of battle (work).
Once battle (work) was concluded, I needed to find a safe harbor to plan my next move. Beloved Stout, where noble Teach tends bar, proved to be the perfect option. I rode the 2 line, Quick of Wheel and Heavy of Smell, down to the Garment District, and traveled deep into the bowels of Stout, to famed Dart Alley, where Teach and this adorable young lass, “Yank”, tended bar. I feasted upon much ale and dined upon an acceptable tuna salad. I send various missives out to comrades in arms, hoping to unite in revelry. As I waited, a bachelor party came down to dart alley and demanded a plethora of car bombs. Teach and I did mock them via text message as they chugged. In time the Valiant Bourbon Samurai took up the call and arrived at Dart Alley, craving ale and entertainment. We stayed and laid waste to the Smithwick keg until the Bachelor party made use of the karaoke machine. Their wails shall sound in the darkest pits of Tatarus. We needed a new quest, and decided to join The Banker at a bar on the Upper East Side.
Bourbon Samurai and I hailed a noble yellow traveling steed (cab) and went to the address the Banker had texted me. Alas, the bar was not there, only mass construction for the mythical 2nd Ave. line. There was fear we had been set up for an ambush! I texted Banker again, and a new address arose, leading us around the corner. We traveled about, again no bar. I finally use the phone part of my phone to call the crafty Banker and find where the battlefield lay. A final address was offered, and a bar located.
Banker, his comrade in arms Espny, and Espny’s woman Mrs. Espny, were in attendance of a friend’s birthday. We joined them for festivities, myself knowing the birthday boy in question. As an added bonus, our friend Chipmunk happened to work at said bar, and we were able to catch up with her. The Birthday boy and his colleagues were impressed with our company (despite her nickname, Chipmunk is well above average in appearance). As time passed, Bourbon and I craved new adventures, and send missives to our comrades. The Gymnast hailed to us from a gathering on the Upper West Side, and requested our presence. This seemed like the path to travel, so we made plans to head west. We, being men of honor, bought a round of shots for the birthday boy and our friends, then journeyed westward.
We arrived on the Upper West Side, a tad buzzed and without bearings. We buzzed on the wrong door, and walked by the some disreputable groups of man, fearing our journey would end in ruin. But after much wanderings, we found the castle at which Gymnast and his twin were revealing. We drank of ales and met many of Gymnast’s comrades, and had a grand conversation with two brave lads who plowed the trade of Stage Combat. This quite delighted Bourbon, and they shared stories of (staged) combat. Gymnast and I went in search of herbal sustenance, but found ourselves too late. Time passed and we became weary, deciding time had come to take a yellow steed (cab) back to the home fort.
Thus ended a night filled with travel, where I was to drank in many harbors, and raised toasts with many a good friend across with isle we call Manhattan. Good cheer.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Some would call this poor time management
Memorial day weekend, I had two days off work. I have not had a day off in a month, and now I had 2. Of those 48 hours, I spent 24 piss drunk.
On Sunday, Hubris and I hit up Costco for booze/groceries. Costco has a little liquor store attached to it, with the standard Costco good prices and high quantity. We grabbed a couple cases of beer, lots of food, 4 bottles of wine, and a giant handle of both Seagram’s and Finlandia. Lock and Load!
We get back home and Hubris makes some drinks. Now Hubris’s idea of a Vodka Tonic is to take a pint glass, pour it a third full of Vodka, and throw in some Tonic and ice. After 2 of these, the world becomes a hilarious place. We then proceeded to break out my new game, Fifa Euro 08. We had been in withdrawal from the Beautiful Game, and it was great to get a little virtual Methadone. Eventually Kodez and Arsenal came by, and Bourbon Samurai returned home from being in a play. We pretty much sat there and played the game a lot while drinking giant mixed drinks. At one point, I was so bombed that I had to go to my room and listen to music for an hour so I could continue drinking/playing. Kodez at some point went to the bathroom and fell into the tub. A day in as only we can do it.
The next day was our supposed ‘house-warming’ party. It was an interesting all day affair, with the entire feel of the party constantly shifting. First it was just a couple of dudes hanging out, then a friend of Bourbon brought a dozen people over, who literally stayed for as long as it took to eat Bourbon’s delicious hamburgers. We did challenge them to a football game, so not a total loss. After that mild blow to morale, we fired up the X-box for another couple of Fifa games. Eventually more people showed up, and the game was banished. Bourbon hit the high point of the evening with a day long marinated set of ribs that literally fell off the bone. The last memory I have was the remaining 10 people at the party huddling together singing “The Weight”. The full day of drinking caught up to me around 10pm, and with an early day at work coming up, I went to pass out as the party began to die down.
We still have not come up for a name for our new home. We have now been there a month and such things must be addressed. Alas, it is rare that the three of us are ever all there and conscious at the same time, so a meeting seems unlikely. I continue to work like a maniac, but should see a decrease in that in 2 weeks or so.
So until then, take the load off Quantum, take the load for free….
On Sunday, Hubris and I hit up Costco for booze/groceries. Costco has a little liquor store attached to it, with the standard Costco good prices and high quantity. We grabbed a couple cases of beer, lots of food, 4 bottles of wine, and a giant handle of both Seagram’s and Finlandia. Lock and Load!
We get back home and Hubris makes some drinks. Now Hubris’s idea of a Vodka Tonic is to take a pint glass, pour it a third full of Vodka, and throw in some Tonic and ice. After 2 of these, the world becomes a hilarious place. We then proceeded to break out my new game, Fifa Euro 08. We had been in withdrawal from the Beautiful Game, and it was great to get a little virtual Methadone. Eventually Kodez and Arsenal came by, and Bourbon Samurai returned home from being in a play. We pretty much sat there and played the game a lot while drinking giant mixed drinks. At one point, I was so bombed that I had to go to my room and listen to music for an hour so I could continue drinking/playing. Kodez at some point went to the bathroom and fell into the tub. A day in as only we can do it.
The next day was our supposed ‘house-warming’ party. It was an interesting all day affair, with the entire feel of the party constantly shifting. First it was just a couple of dudes hanging out, then a friend of Bourbon brought a dozen people over, who literally stayed for as long as it took to eat Bourbon’s delicious hamburgers. We did challenge them to a football game, so not a total loss. After that mild blow to morale, we fired up the X-box for another couple of Fifa games. Eventually more people showed up, and the game was banished. Bourbon hit the high point of the evening with a day long marinated set of ribs that literally fell off the bone. The last memory I have was the remaining 10 people at the party huddling together singing “The Weight”. The full day of drinking caught up to me around 10pm, and with an early day at work coming up, I went to pass out as the party began to die down.
We still have not come up for a name for our new home. We have now been there a month and such things must be addressed. Alas, it is rare that the three of us are ever all there and conscious at the same time, so a meeting seems unlikely. I continue to work like a maniac, but should see a decrease in that in 2 weeks or so.
So until then, take the load off Quantum, take the load for free….
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