Monday, October 30, 2006


On Saturday, I dressed as Minnie Mouse. As you can see, Susan was a bee:

My sister went to the store last minute and was thus forced to buy a super slutty Old West Sheriff Lady costume. She had to modify it with personal items to make it appropriate for public appearances. In a wonderful turn of events, someone was wearing an identical costume at the first party we attended. My sister attempted to find (and offer) solace; she said, “This costume does not fit over my boobs. I just got it today; it was the only one left.” Her slutty sheriff twin replied, “I bought mine a month ago.”


We went to a couple of parties and a few bars. It was fun; I love Halloween and everyone is so festive and willing to actually be fun and act like total asses (well, I suppose the nay-sayers and party poopers tend to stay home). I ended up hooking up with Borat, and lived to regret it. I guess I should have known better; he’s funny, but he is clearly a total chauvinist.

I already carved my pumpkin and toasted the seeds, but tonight I plan to carve my sister’s. She packed up and left myself, Molly and her untouched pumpkin for Toronto. Molly (that would be our newly found little dog) has a little ballerina costume. She is very excited about watching scary movies with me tonight and tomorrow, and possibly giving out candy.

I really enjoyed my costume. I plan to wear nothing but dresses with puffed sleeves from now on. Also, expect to see me randomly showing up with a black nose and whiskers.

Happy Halloween!

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Morality Tale

Ayayay, my wife and correspondent, Boulos, is home sick today. This means that I am bored. I suppose now is the time to update re: my escapades of the past few weeks.

Sidenote: god, I love this picture. One lady is in her Sunday best, with hat, and flashing some crotch. The other is possibly a man (?), and wearing a skin-tight -- not minidress, but mini-skort type thing? I think it really captures the feel of the night I'm about to describe.

Well, in her post about being drunk and disorderly, Boulos implied that I had a rather insane night that same weekend. Yup. It was 3 weekends ago, the first in October. My sister and I went out with a crowd for her best friend’s birthday. We started out at a club on Rush Street, and this is the kind of thing that makes me really hit the bottle – I know I will not have fun at a club unless I’m drunk. Once I’m drunk, I’m a fool and I dance like a moron, but have fun. I made a very prudent decision to start out with vodka, then switch to gin martinis, and end the night with a series of tequila shots with beer chasers. Wise move; I was pole dancing with the birthday girl’s sister before long (for those unfamiliar with clubs/bars on Rush Street, they generally feature a pole on the dancefloor, specifically so that the female clientele have the option of acting slutty and ridiculous while drunk). We went to another bar, another pole, and things get hazy. We tried to go to a third bar, one that I visit pretty regularly. I got as far as the ATM – there was CLEARLY something wrong with it, as I remember my transaction taking about 15 minutes -- but I was promptly escorted out after being told I was “overserved.” My friends didn’t even get in; they’d been turned away at the door. Apparently the b-day girl’s sister was attempting to argue her sobriety as she fell into the street. We were, altogether, a class act.

But wait, it gets classier! I must preface the next part with this: I do not condone drunk driving. I am totally against it and generally take cabs everywhere when I am drinking. Yet on occasion, I find myself at the stupidly overconfident stage of drunkenness with a set of keys in my hand and a car nearby – again, this is no excuse, but it happened. On this occasion, it seemed imperative that I obtain McDonald’s for me and my sister, so off I went. I had been carrying a tiny purse, and had separated my house keys so they would fit. I entered the house to get my car key – and apparently decided to exchange it with my house key. Cut to me standing on our porch with a ripped bag of McDonald’s in hand, fully aware that my sister was passed out on the couch. I rang the bell 100 times. She had 57 missed calls from me the next day. Eventually I began pounding on the door, which woke up the man who lives below us. When he opened his door to ask me what was going on (this was about 4 am), I gave up. I walked back to the car – which was parked next to the side entrance of a church – and resigned myself to a night in the backseat. Which is a really pathetic fate, when you are alone. I left my sister one last plaintive message, and passed out (in a miniskirt with fishnets and slutty boots, I might add). Around 6 am or so, I elegantly opened the door, delicately vomited on the curb, and shut myself back in. I was the definition of a “lady.”

I woke up around noon –having slept through the part where churchgoers gawk at the drunk, sleeping hooker/gutter girl parked outside – and my sister finally let me in. We listened to my messages together; they started off angry and ended rather pathetically. I vowed to never drink to excess again. Then, the next weekend was upon us.

This is a long post, so we will keep that “to be continued.” The next weekend’s story is not as great, but still an evening of booze, fun, and adventure, and probably one that a sane person would not experience in the immediate aftermath of drunken near-homelessness.

I may also write about our new dog, if you are lucky.

P.s. In case you are wondering, mystery celebrity after whom I model my weekend activities = George Michael. Sleeping in cars and all that.

Friday, October 13, 2006

Hot Dog!

You have not actually ever eaten a hotdog in your life unless you've eaten one that's deep fried. Last night, after some costume store browsing Andy took me to try a local, but actually quite nationally known favorite called Rutt's Hut. Alright, seriously this place is so good. Not only do they make their own relish (which I am not usually a relish user, but it's YUMMY), they use diner speak! Their dogs are called "Rippers" b/c they burst when you fry 'em, and there's all sorts of other lingo I can't currently remember, but it is really funny. You totally just stand at a counter too, the place has been there since sometime in the 30s, and it's REALLY well known by dog lovers. Although I'm pretty sure that I will be going into cardiac arrest later today from the side of onion rings and gravy fries we ordered, it was totally worth it. So... come on over to Jerz for a delicious dog or too! BTW- I am not a compensated endorser, they're just fantastical.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Drunk and Drunker

It was quite the debauched weekend for us RNR unicorns, however it was spent separately. I do hope that the wife posts her story, which is unrivaled in its hilarity and blood alcohol level.

I had my own share of booze on Friday night and I only paid about $10 in tips for it. A friend of mine has discovered a bar here in NYC called "NO IDEA" which features a name night special. When your name day arrives you drink FOR FREE from 5pm-11pm, it is hands down, the best deal ever. When I heard my day was 9/29, I knew that I had to be there and that it would be totally worth it. I was right. Aside from slightly injuring myself while innebriated (tripping, but not falling to the floor, thankfully) I just had the best time. To mastercard shorthand the evening...

Catching up with old friends: $0
Accidentally (and repeatedly) aggrivating boyfriend's neck injury: $0
Drinking for free and only tipping the bartender: $10
Seeing Carrot Top on the street and yelling drunken babble at him: PRICELESS

So that was my night. Andy and I spent our ENTIRE Saturday in hangover recovery, but that's when the wife took over on the alcohol front. God I hope she posts her story, as it is seriously so legendary and even parallells a certain celebrity's weekend debaucle. No more hints.

P.S. Please wish for my rapid neck recovery as I have mysteriously injured it myself.