Monday, March 13, 2006

Every Day Is A Friday (Reprise)

Continued from: Every day is a Friday. Except Friday.

Mere hours after singing the virtues of weeknight drinking and firing a shot at Friday and Saturday nights, I found myself drunk off my ass well before midnight Friday.

In retrospect, it was a recipe for disaster. I was coming off a week I spent practically bedridden from flu-like symptoms and averaged less than 5 hours of sleep. To add to my already weak physical state, I was comfortably buzzed before dinner. That, my friends, is a point of no return.

Next thing I know, I'm in a party at a Midtown hotel, walking around, trying to stay alert and wishing I'd caffeinated myself earlier. Nope, game over. By 1:30, I had gotten myself in a cab for a lonely ride home.

Which gets me to another reason I don't really dig the Friday binge. I'm okay with a little happy hour. You had a long week - you should kick back and welcome the weekend. But getting hammered - which I enjoy - isn't worth ruining the whole weekend.

  • I have yet to talk about the Asobi Seksu show last Monday at the Bowery Ballroom. In a word, excellenicious. They played a mix of the material off their self titled debut and their forthcoming Citrus and sounded more heavier than before, which I approve. Yuki, the lead singer, has a delicate voice that somehow comes through that thick wall of sound - always great live.

    mp3: Asobi Seksu - Red Sea (Live - KEXP)
    For more Asobi Seksu, check their Myspace page.

    The headliner, Serena Maneesh was heh, Bob was there too and he can probably explain better. They reminded me a lot of The Music, you know, that UK band that was supposed to be big around 2002.

    Also, pictures and pictures.

  • Carolina as #3 seed in the Washington Region? I'm okay with that, though I'm guessing a win vs BC could have put us up at #2. Maybe.

  • I don't give a shit about baseball, but America will pay for this.

  • Friday, was so nice out, I rode my bike out for the first time this year, all the way to West Village. I parked it outside the coffeeshop, where I camped out for most of the late afternoon. On the way from the coffeeshop to the bar, whilst at the subway station and on the subway car, Heather and I smelled a subtle, but distinct scent of urine. Coincidental, perhaps. But when I later got back to my apartment and was hauling the bike up the stairs, the scent returned.

    Yes, my bicycle had been peed on.

    Heather, apparent expert on urine, surmised it was human urine. So let's get this straight - I parked my bicycle in the whitest neighborhood below 14th Street in broad daylight, and some fucker pees on my bike? How the fuck does that happen?

  • One last Only In New York story before I go - last week, I was walking down Avenue A as I had to stop by the grocery store. I look down and see a TV on the ground. Nothing strange about that - you always see shit thrown out on the curb. Except the TV was on. And it was hooked up to the light pole. And a homeless guy was kicking the TV to get better reception.

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