Humor

Drunken Recollection… Return Of The Hangover

Posted on by sgottahurt

On the taxi ride from Tom’s Restaurant back to East Village, Steve passed out quickly, and not soon after, I followed suit.  Tim bid us farewell, and I remained awake for our ride back to Midtown.  The taxi that narrowly missed crashing into the backseat where I was sitting probably helped…

EPISODE VI
RETURN OF THE HANGOVER

Upon reaching our final destination without reaching the final destination, Steve decided he wanted some more food.  I think I agreed.  We remembered seeing a Taco Bell on our way to the pizzeria the day before, so we ambled forth in search of late night seasoned beef and cheese and tortillas and rice…

The next morning, after awakening in our dirty Snuggies, we tried recalling the run for the border.  We remembered that it was more like a regular deli that had a Taco Bell in the back.  The Taco Bell was closed, yet the front remained in business.  Weird.  Steve didn’t think he purchased any food, and I cannot confirm or deny that fact, but I do know he inquired about it.

Steve – “How much for pizza?”

Worker – “$3.50 a slice.”

Steve – “I’ll give you three for a half.”

The rest is fuzzy, and so was Steve.  He wasn’t feeling too hot on the morning of our ride home, whereas this time, I felt fine.  Upon learning of my faux pas regarding the hot dog joint/secret bar, we made the decision to seek it out properly before leaving.  We had to know if it truly did exist.

So on the way to the subway station at Times Square, we stopped at this place to get cupcakes:

"No doubt that bakery’s got all da bomb frostins/ I love those cupcakes like McAdams loves Gosling." RIP "The Notebook" Love

"No doubt that bakery’s got all da bomb frostins/ I love those cupcakes like McAdams loves Gosling." RIP "The Notebook" Love

While outside enjoying “da bomb frostins,” we bore witness to a scene straight out of Police Academy.  A short cop was surrounded by tall European women,  in their late teens to mid-twenties (with an elder or two over-seeing them), and he was posing for pictures with them. 

There were well over a dozen of them (a baker’s dozen?), and he had to make sure there was variety in his stylings.  When Steve and I walked into Magnolia, he was letting them put on his hat and hold his night stick.  When we were eating, he was fastening handcuffs on one of the girls.  I just imagined that if he was called for an emergency, he’d leave her behind locked up.

From there, we took the subway to Union Square, and met up with Tim and Mike again.  Tim was excited and had this to say:

I’ve finally made a union with someone at Union Square.

Anyhotdog, our final mission before leaving NYC was to locate this secret bar.  It was not far from our point of departure the night before, and here’s what we found:

Not too be confused with Mark's Place.

Not too be confused with Mark's Place.

Once inside, I stared at the counter of the narrow establishment seeking out the phone booth that would lead us to the bar called P.D.T. (Please Don’t Tell).  I turned left, and there it was:

Get Smart... or Superman?

Get Smart... or Superman?

I pushed open the door, and the guy behind the counter told me it didn’t open until six.  Bummer city.

Lift the receiver and wait for approval to enter the secret bar.

Lift the receiver and wait for approval to enter the secret bar.

We ordered some dogs.  I had mine made Seattle-style, in honor of this upcoming weekend’s trip.  (It’s cream cheese on a hot dog in a bun.)  From there, we made our way back to Madison Square Garden and Penn Station.  And from there back to Newark, and then back

toward 

home.

*sniff*

Drunken Recollection… The Empire Snuggies Back

Posted on by sgottahurt

In the middle of the night, a strange cough – that sounded distinctly male – startled me awake.  I was passed out in a queen-size bed with my cousin Steve.  We were in a hotel in New York City recovering from a long day of travelling and a longer night of drinking. 

…And we were each wearing a Snuggie.

 

EPISODE V
THE EMPIRE SNUGGIES BACK

The pub crawl on which the trip was focused was starting at noon.  It was ten when we started moving.  Steve kept mentioning how well he felt; I kept quiet about how much I was not.  We had set our sights on getting back to East Village by noon, but our first mission was to stop at the store to buy a vital item.

Steve called them safety pins; I referred to them as diaper pins.  Steve thought we could find them at Staples; I thought that was funny.  To be honest, I wasn’t even sure if they were still made.  Was there a need for diaper pins anymore?  (Safety pins?  Maybe.)  And why did we need them?  We each had grown fond of our Snuggies and didn’t want to ruin them.  (Oh, and we ended up finding some at Walgreen’s.  They weren’t by the baby supplies, but amazingly, condoms were.  Hmm.)

We had a plan to carry the three Snuggies we possessed in a backpack, and to don them as required (the third was Mike’s – another friend that was coming in from DC for his birthday).  It was New York though, and we probably could have worn them the entire way from Midtown, but… well, I don’t have a clever excuse.  I guess we weren’t 100% convinced the Snuggie Pub Crawl was real, and didn’t want to be left out in the cold heat (it was such a nice day… 70+ degrees).

Our first stop was the sign-up location.  We had purchased four tickets in advance (even though we thought it might not be real we used credit card information on the web… go figure), and on the train ride over, Steve verified the first bar stop on those four tickets.  When we arrived at the sign-up, Steve checked his pockets.

“I have some bad news.”  Apparently, somewhere between checking them on the subway and walking to this bar, the printed up sheets fell out and blew away.  We weighed our options.  We thought of alternatives.  They guy told us we needed tickets, and we didn’t want to have to purchase them again.  Luckily, he accepted viewing the receipts on my iPhone, gave us four tickets and four cups (Tim from Episode IV would be also joining us), and we arrived at our first official spot:

Bar None: The Fun Begins

Bar None: The Fun Begins

Now properly attired in our blankets with sleeves and with full crew in tow, the drinking began.  The three of them were off in a mad dash, but I was limping.  Mike put it best:

The days that start off slow very often end in a hurry.

Now I’ll let some pictures do the talking.

img_0056img_0057img_0061img_0063img_0065

Needless to say – some drinks were poured, some drinks were spilled, some conversation was had, and the Yankees got blown out by the Indians!  All-in-all, the crawl was a success.  But the night was not yet finished…

———————————————————————–

Over the course of the day, I had received information about a secret place.  The specifications were these:

  • It was a hot dog joint in Manhattan.
  • This hot dog joint had a “secret bar” located within it.
  • To access this “secret bar” you had to enter a phone booth and pick up the receiver to enter.
  • The location I was texted stated: 113 St Marks Pl

Here’s where my hubris caused an issue (and maybe drinking… maybe).  I thought I understood the lay the island, and I took the location to mean “113 St. @ Marks Place”… not what it said.  And the little torn brochure map I carried with me cut off around 110 St. at the the top, so how could I be wrong?  Birthday boy Mike passed out at Tim’s place (near East Village), and Steve, Tim, and I made our drunken way out to the fictional 113 St. and Marks Place.

The taxi driver didn’t even correct us, and brought us to 113 St. and Broadway, way up on the west end.  As I approached the waterfront, I stumbled into a closing bakery.

“Excuse me, do you know where Marks Place is?”

The confused baker answered, “He probably lives down by the river.”

As we brewed and stewed and reviewed my mistake, something caught my eye down the road.  It wasn’t a wasted trip after all!  This is where we had a late night burger before returning to home base (to pass out in our dirty Snuggies in a queen-size bed):

img_0068

"Doo doo doo doo, doo doo-doo-doo..." - Suzanne Vega / "Tippy toes, tippy toes, tippy toes!" - George Costanza

Drunken Recollection… New York: The Saga Continues…

Posted on by sgottahurt

Okay, so where was I?  Ah yes.  On Wall Street, which was under construction.  We were looking for the giant bull statue for the hell of it, even though we (Steve and I) were unsure if there was a giant bull statue in New York.  (There is… but we couldn’t find it.)

Around this time, I finally got to hear the voice of a fellow blogger (we’d eventually meet up later during my trek through East Village).  Our phones were running lower on energy than we were, so we decided in order to make it through whatever the night held in store for us, functioning electronics seemed important, and we returned to home base.

At the hotel, we plugged in our cells and due to the lack of sleep (this will be explained in the prequels), the Snuggies (this will be explained in the sequel) and bed were mighty tempting.  Yes, I typed “bed” with no “s.”  They only had a queen available (which I should probably specify is a bed size, seeing as how people might have preconceived notions about NYC).  Apparently, a four-star hotel according to Hotwire consists of this criteria: if they don’t have a pair of twins available (again – bed size), they’ll give you each a cookie.  A cookie that was prepared earlier in the day.  Possibly for the continental breakfast’s dessert?

But I digress, and as such, our digestive systems had processed those cookies long ago, so dinner sounded like a plan.  We asked the concierge to recommend a pizzeria (one that served booze was our only criteria).  He recommended one nearby – Angelo’s, on 55th and 2nd.  (Don’t I sound all local-y?  My confidence in understanding the map of the city ultimately proved to be a bit too confident.  Sequel…)

We ordered the flat-bread pizza and $6 beers.  Steve quickly learned that when the choices for $6 beers are Bud, Bud Light, and Bass Ale, you choose Bass Ale.  As we ate, we eyed the happy hour going on across the street ($3 beers!), and as soon as we finished, we headed over there for a few more (choices: Miller Lite, MGD, Sam Adams?  Sam Adams, of course!) and then back to the hotel to retrieve our banes of existence means of communication.

We headed toward Central Park to await our first fellow bar hopper – another Steve.  As we wandered the streets, we passed the bridge that Spider-Man battled on with the cable cars (I’m soooo cultured), and I missed the entirety of the quiet beauty that was the sunset that night.

As we began slinking in and out of a plethora of East Village bars, our group’s number grew to four with Tim, and five with Evan.  Eventually my fellow blogger met up with us after a lot of phone- and text-tagging, which was cool.  The hookah joint we were waiting to get into was taking too long, so we headed to another bar that carded people for some reason (nowhere else did).  In the sorta dark, sorta empty, martini-ish bar (what would be the opposite of a hole-in-the-wall?) we ended up at, I brought up Lost, I investigated something weird on the table with my fingertip (thankfully it was Guinness foam), and I think I even mentioned Twilight (the movie – not the book, as if that makes a difference).  Oh yeah… wonderful, wonderful Guinness was ordered around.  One guy selected a bottle of wine “with one glass.”  And mussels somehow ended up on the table.

Members of our group started parsing off at that point.  I recall a sliver of a diner that was stopped at by the solo wine drinker and that it amazingly carried no smell whatsoever, good or bad.  And somehow Steve and I made it back to home base.  (Taxi?  Subway?  Feet?)

I’m beginning to feel like this may be Uncle Sean’s Drunk Story Time all over again… So much more to go!

Drunken Recollection… The Saga Of New York

Posted on by sgottahurt

Holy Magnolia cupcakes… New York City rocks!  In preparing to tackle the monumental amount of momentous situations that occurred over my weekend in the Big Apple, I thought, “What would be the nerdiest way to unfold such adventures?”

As if it was the Star Wars saga!  (I’m not sure if I’ll do the prequels… I’ll probably do the prequels…)

EPISODE IV
A NEW YORK

As we arrived in Newark, NJ (that we being cousin Steve and I), we parked our car in a 24 hour lot, stored our ticket to retrieve said vehicle, and noted that we needed gasoline prior to our journey home.

Realizing we had no idea exactly how we were getting to NYC via the train system (each for our various reasons), we flew by the seat of our pants, as we’re prone to do, and which usually tends to be more expensive.

We walked up some train tracks to find a NJ Transit machine, and luckily, a woman offered to help us the entire way through the process.  She almost missed her train, which ended up being our train as well.  Guilt-free help!

May not be inspiring to the locals, but to a guy from Detroit: "This city is alive!"

May not be inspiring to the locals, but to a guy from Detroit: "It's alive!"

Upon arriving at Penn Station (we thought we were heading to the WTC station – we were way off!), I witnessed a monk wearing a baseball hat and an old man in a super pimped-out Little Rascal cart.  We reached surface level and my first view was this:

We had attained some sizable pamphlets from underground, and after ripping away all the advertisements, we had all the map that we’d need.  We pinned down our location (Madison Square Garden), and our hotel’s location, and we got moving.

On the way, the saw Fuse Network Studios, the Sbarro restaurant that I thought Michael Scott on The Office referred to as “authentic New York cuisine,” and a comic shop that had a Silver Surfer in its window.  (We stopped inside because of this, but not much else was going on.  This is obviously why they have a Silver Surfer in the window.)

"Look up for power lines." "But I don't see anything." "That's good." (Detroiter inside joke)

"Look up for power lines." "But I don't see anything." "That's good." (Detroiter inside joke)

Then I had a chance to take this photo up above.  When I take things like this, I hope to impress my sis that’s a photog.  Eees good, Becks?  (Too bad she doesn’t read this blog.)

I think it's so the pigeons can be comfortable.

I think it's so the pigeons can be comfortable.

At my hotel, we had a nice view of the back of buildings, which I still thought was cool.  For some reason, there were a bunch of pillows, down below. 

Anyhotelincidentals, I have to put the brakes on this post.  To quickly wrap up the rest, we walked from our hotel to 30 Rock because of the show (the skating rink is not as big in person).  We hit up Broadway and Times Square, and figured out how to take the subway down to the World Trade Center reconstruction.  The Statue of Liberty was visible in the distance (has anyone realized her initials are SOL?), and I think we found the area that Will Smith rented jet skis in Hitch (over in the financial district).

Okay, there’s more to come for sure.  Stay tuned!  (I’m losing my TripleDoubleU connection shortly hence the wrap up… EPISODE IV is not finished.)

In My Brain While Sleeping… A Dreamy Episode Of 30 Rock

Posted on by sgottahurt

This dream unfolded as an episode of 30 Rock.  I shall try to capture it for you.

INT. WRITER’S ROOM – DAY AFTER SHOW

lizlemon

 

 

Last night’s skit about President Obama was a success.  All the trades are talking about it.

toofer

 

 

They’re not speaking positively about it Liz.  You said he was a member of the Illuminati.

lizlemon

 

 

We were poking fun at the fact that every president is in the Illuminati.  We don’t want to appear left-winged all the time.  Besides, the Illuminati doesn’t even exist.  I don’t even know what they’re all about.

tracyjordan

 

 

(running into room, disguised not necessarily as a ninja)Did you hear?  An eight year-old blogger was assassinated uptown because he said he didn’t like the president’s new dog.

lizlemon

 

 

That’s ridiculous, Tracey.  Obama would never do that… would… he…

INT. JACK’S OFFICE

Tracey and Liz visit Jack to discuss the possibility of danger.

jack-donaghy

 

 

The both of you don’t really believe the conspiracy theory that the Illuminati exists, do you?  Let alone the possibility that our latest president could be a part of that organization?  And that he would be willing to assassinate bloggers?

tracyjordan

 

 

Eight year-old bloggers.

 

jack-donaghy

 

 

Tell you what.  To appease you both and to provide a sense of safety, why don’t we get that makeup artist in here…

lizlemon

 

 

The one that turned Tracey into Robery Downey, Jr?

 

jack-donaghy

 

 

Yes, that one.  He–

 

Jack’s office window suddenly shatters and Tracey and Liz flee, screaming.  Jack picks up a found golf ball.

jack-donaghy

 

 

Moonves, isn’t it a bit early for building tee off?

 

INT. TOOFER’S APARTMENT

lizlemon

 

 

Wow, Toofer… this is a really nice place for the salary we’re paying you.

toofer

 

 

It didn’t come equipped with windows.  That’s how I can afford it on my salary.  And your welcome, for letting you stay here.

tracyjordan

 

 

(eating food out of Toofer’s fridge) Thank you.

 

INT. JACK’S OFFICE

Liz and Tracey try various hiding places while Jack talks to them.

jack-donaghy

 

 

A week has passed, and no serious threats have been made against your lives.  Can you finally admit that there is no Illuminati?

Liz and Tracey finally stand up and face him.

lizlemon

 

 

Yes.  Yes, we can.

 

black-phone

 

 

(Anonymous voice from speaker phone) That’s sufficient.

 

robert-downey-jr

 

 

You know Jack, Liz and I have learned a lot from this experience.  Like not to jump to conclusions when eight year-old bloggers get assassinated.  And how to make pumpkin pies.  Toofer is a great chef and teacher.

THE END

JusWondering… Am I Getting Mind Powers?

Posted on by sgottahurt

When I was a kid, I believed carrots improved your eyesight, gum stuck to your ribs (if you swallowed it), and fish made you smart.

Remember the food chain, dude!

Remember the food chain, dude!

I hated carrots, so my eyesight was never too hot.  (Sleeping in contact lenses for months at a time probably didn’t help.)

It took me until high school to realize that the chest pains I felt while growing up had nothing to do with the gum I swallowed in my youth.  (Hubba Bubba goes nowhere near your ribs!)

And even though I liked my fish sticks as a kid, the idea became less attractive in my teens and further into adulthood.  (Seafood stinks!)

"Fish heads, fish heads, eat 'em up, yum!"

"Fish heads, fish heads, eat 'em up, yum!"

So imagine my disappointment when I found out how good Omega-3 fish oils were for you, and my joy upon discovering they came in pill form!

The problem that remained was I kept forgetting to seek them out for purchase.  Well forget them no more!  I finally picked up a bottle, and I already believe I’m beginning to see results.

The biggest difference I’ve noticed is that I’m becoming psychic.  I would regale you with all the details, but they seem to have escaped me for now.

Stay tuned as I report any further advancements of my mind!

Drunken Recollection… A Canadian, A T-Shirt, A.I., And Some Bars

Posted on by sgottahurt

It’s been awhile since I’ve had a Drunken Recollection.  It’s not so much that I have no Recollection.  It’s moreso that I haven’t been Drunken (or I give it all up to Twitter – damn!)

This past night was an odd collection of  Items to Note:

Note 1) Our live trivia host sounded identical to Norm MacDonald.

How cool would it be if the pic on the mug was holding a picture of Norm holding a mug?

How cool would it be if the pic on the mug was holding a picture of Norm holding a mug?

And that wasn’t a bad thing.  It was simply strange, because the guy looked more like this: 

Not to be confused with Kris Kross.

Not to be confused with Kris Kross.

Note 2) There was a guy that was very proud of his t-shirt that read, “My Giveadamner Is Broken.”

I couldn’t find the exact t-shirt he had, but there are plenty of varities out there.  Apparently, I could have cared less, so I guess my giveadamner was broken, too.

Note 3) The American Idol judges saved someone?

This was playing in the background on the TV, so I have an excuse.  Okay, I really don’t have an excuse because I watched the show the day before, and I thought local-yokel Matt Giraud didn’t perform that great.

american-idol-matt-giraud

More "grating" than "great."

Albeit, I would listen to him for 100 years before listening to Adam Lambert sing Born to Be Wild ever again.  Or anything, for that matter.  (I hope Allison wins, or maybe even Anoop!)

Note 4) CBGB stood for Country, Blue Grass, & Blues?

ZOMG! It's closed!

ZOMG! It's closed!

CBGB’s, as far as I knew, was the place where hardcore punk was born, not country, blue grass, and blues?

This topic brought up conversation about the Fillmore in San Francisco, and how there’s one here in Detroit since Live Nation gobbled up the State Theater and renamed it.

I tried bringing up the historic place in Detroit, where groups like the MC5 got their start, but no one knew.  So I had to research it.

Found it:

ZOMG! It's abandonned!

ZOMG! It's abandonned!

 I was thinking of the Grande Ballroom.

………

That’s all I got.  I already mentioned my giveadamner’s broken.

In My Brain While Sleeping… Lily Allen, Free Tickets, And The Chinese Restaurant

Posted on by sgottahurt

Vodpod videos no longer available.

 

 

 

So long as I’ve been following her on Twitter (I made it at least a few posts without bringing the micro-blogger up), Lily Allen has been playing a little game with her fans.  Every town she visits, she hides tickets and Tweets cryptic clues to their locations.

I’ve already dreamed in Twitter.  The next step was this:

When the British songstress visited Detroit, I tried figuring out the hints, but I didn’t bother searching.  My dream changed all that.

I was in a Chinese restaurant downtown near the casinos.  What’s funny is I don’t know if there are any Chinese restaurants there, and I certainly don’t eat Chinese (I stick to the basics of pizza and Pop Tarts, thanks).

Anywok, for some reason I was the host of said establishment, and there was a short girl with long black hair blocking her face.  She was hanging out in the waiting area, and she kept looking in at me, even though she didn’t have a reservation. 

Eventually, I realized that she was looking at my podium, and I headed to the front to see what all the fuss was about.  There were two blue tickets taped to the wood grain.  They weren’t official looking or anything.  It was as if they were made in Print Shop or something.

(Not So) Artistic Representation

(Not So) Artistic Representation

I peeled them off and Lily Allen rushed toward me, moving the hair from her face.  “Congratulations!” she said with her cute accent.  And no one in the place budged.

Disappointed with the dining crowd’s reaction, I shouted, “Free computers are hidden all over Greektown!”  Everyone leaped to their feet and dispersed, ditching their bills to do so.  I was fired on the spot, but it didn’t matter… not the way Lily was looking at me.

“Howzabout we skip me concert and go for a stroll,” she said.  And we did.

INGREDIENTS: Too much Twitter… and Jellybean Nerds.

The $500 Million Russian Bride?

Posted on by sgottahurt

meloksana1

This is not a Conspiracy Theory!

Mel Gibson and his wife Robyn have reportedly split after 28 years of marriage.  The word on the street (where the Road Warrior lives) is that they’ve been separated for about two and a half years, and in that time Mad Max has been putting his Lethal Weapon in a myriad of young ladies’ Thunderdomes.

Most notably, he’s been sharing a few Tequila Sunrises with this girl, so he could, um, Pocahontas her:

Her name is Oksana Pochepa, if you couldn’t distinguish between all the mumbo jumbo Russian in the video’s title.  She’s a famous model/singer/model.  And The Man Without a Face wearing a blindfold, playing the sax in the video is not Mel Gibson.  It’s just a coincidence that his name is Mel.  Or least he looks like a Mel.

Apparently, although Mel is not Forever Young, he is still largely What Women Want(even though he’s prone to calling bazongas sugar tits), particularly this Russian hottie with such a Braveheart.

According to Oksana, from the Sun UK:

We are different people, but Mel is a grown man and knows precisely what he wants and me too — I know what I want.

They’re both such Maverick(s).  How could wife Robyn not see the Signs?  She’s sure to want to Ransom his nuts, or at least get some kind of Payback, right?

DING DING DING DING!  Time for some math!  Yay!

Here are the facts:

  • She’s 24. 
  • He’s 53.
  • His marriage lasted 28 years.
  • He’s worth almost $1 billion. 
  • His wife wants half that.

I don’t know what the math problem is, per se, but one question remains:

Is Oksana Pochepa worth half a billion dollars?

The answer: re-watch the video.

(Movies not used in puns: Bird on a Wire, Air America, Hamlet, We are Soldiers,  The Singing Detective, The Patriot, The River, Gallipoli, Fathers’ Day, and The Year of Living Dangerously… I probably could have squeezed in one of those last two)

(mostly via IDLYITW)

(My Boss) Paul’s Top Five List… Favorite “Family Guy” Moments

Posted on by sgottahurt

It’s way overdue and slightly undercooked, but here’s the latest offering of my boss’ opinion.  Paul, who once upon a time was simply my “friend,” simply luuurves Family Guy.  This list is the fruit of  his looms his labor:

Top Five Favorite “Family Guy” Moments

5) Drinking game where Quagmire loses (click here for video)

4) “Puke-A-Thon” [Not to be confused with Stand By Me’s Barf-O-Rama. – Ed.]

3) First appearance of Greased Up Deaf Guy

2) Peter competes with his real dad in a drinking game (click here)

1) Randy Newman sings about whatever he sees