Posts tagged ‘Hells Kitchen’
Let me start off my saying that I am the one in the yellow sweater. I replaced my face with Beyonce’s because I have never in my life seen a more unflattering photo of myself. I look like a homeless man emerging from the subway tunnels at first thaw, after a long winter of anorexia, meandering in my own filth, and casual butt sex with stray dogs. I don’t know if its just me, but I haven’t been drinking as much in 2013. I have taken this time to reflect, work on projects, and hibernate in my bedroom, which is as much of a man-cave as it can be with a chain chandelier and 30 color coordinated cushions. Regardless, this means what when I do go, I go hard. So this Sunday Funday brunch extravaganza lasted no less than 9 hours. In no particular order, here is what went down:
We started brunching at Pier 9, which is a hit-or-miss brunch hotspot in HK. Its a hit because some of the staff, like the hostess and one particularly charming foreign server that resembles Mr. Bean are awesome and super accommodating. Miss, because they often get your food wrong, or run out of champagne and have to serve Sangria (Red wine does nothing but piss me off). Hit because the manager always makes up for any service issues we have. (sidebar: I am pretty sure our actual server was a Russian prositute).
Anyway, I was still drunk from the night before, so it was pretty easy to get my buzz back. I noticed a friend of mine across the restaurant, but rather than get up to say hello, I sent him photos of my nipples, and the nipples of the girl next to me. Jmo spent the entire time talking about how flawless his skin was. I was sitting across from a Puerto Rican tranny, near a girl who didn’t realize she was at a gay brunch, and some rando Colombian guy who kept grabbing Nadia’s justies (we call her boob’s justies, because a handful of tit is “just enough”). We ended up getting a random birthday cake platter even though it wasn’t anyone’s bday and more than enough mimosas and glasses of sangria to tranquilize a horse. Then we went to the new Boxers in HK, where I pondered whether or not my attraction to gingers is due to some kind of vitamin deficiency (I saw a redhead there that was so gingery his eyelashes were translucent- so hot). Then we went back to JMO and Nadia’s new apartment, where we were surprised by some interesting characters- a pair of twinky young vampire-looking creatures that were clearly “awake” if you know what I mean. In case you don’t, I will just just say that it was snowing wherever they came from. Meaning that they were hanging out with a white girl.
Cocaine. Just cocaine, okay?
I will say the best line of the night came when I told one of them (who was randomly washing his hair) that I loved the towel on his head. Without missing a beat, he said: “Its Chanel.” Well played.
Apparently the other one took that compliment to heart and Read more…
When I am feeling down about myself, there are a few things I sometimes do:
1. Walk around Hells Kitchen–even if you are dawg-ugly chances are there is at least one self-hating gay guy on Ninth Ave that will eye-fuck you so hard your ass will bleed.
2. I look up photos of
Lindsay Lohan Faces of Meth. Not only do they give me the healthy self-esteem boost I need, but they also remind me of how lucky I am that I failed chemistry. They also remind me of my dad, and give me a warm, fuzzy feeling in my veins. The kind of feeling that reminds me of living life to the fullest and cleaning my entire house from top to bottom.
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Is it possible to get alcohol poisoning off Mimosas? I think we proved yesterday that it isn’t, because we drank about 15 each. It was Nicky’s birthday yesterday, which was especially nice since his present (the official birthday gift of my group of friends) is to have power over the rest of us for the entire day. Nick was especially considerate of us on this day, because on my birthday I make my friends do foolish things like break up with their boyfriends and stick spatulas up their asses. We had gone out the night before to XL (which was an ordeal in and of itself, which I will get to later) so Nadia and I woke up alone in JMO’s apartment wondering if everyone else had been raptured. This would have been ironic because if anyone is going straight to hell in gasoline panties, its JMO.
I quickly discovered the Nicky had gone back to our apartment where he passed out in the nude surrounded by lit candles. I woke him up with two shots of vodka, and we decided to head to brunch. I don’t know if you have been to Pier 9 in Hells Kitchen, but we were blown away by it! Not only was the hostess super friendly (she even convinced the DJ to play Candy Rain, by Soul for Real, which was an idea that sounded awesome in our heads but ended up being lame as fuck-thank god we were shitfaced). The server refilled our unlimited mimosa’s every thirty seconds, and the food was absolutely impeccable. Our fruit salads contained nary a slice of cantaloupe, which is impressive in and of itself.
Since we started the day off wasted with cocktails its unsurprising that cock talk followed. Everyone went around the table discussing the worst places for bodily fluid, Emsy basically ate with one her legs up on my shoulder, and Nadia deep throated a mimosa glass. Frecks showed up 2 hours late dressed like a substitute teacher that got lost in Jurassic Park so I spent the rest of the day trying to let people in on that joke without him finding out. Oh, and there were children all around, which didn’t stop me from flirting with the guy at the next table over. I can’t get over how friendly the staff was though, it really was the perfect brunch.
I think we must have had at least 15 mimosas each, which I guess explains why Nadia ended up taking photos of my asshole on Ninth Avenue. Emsy and Nadia secretly made Nicky a cake, which I accidentally told him leading to Nadia putting the tranny smackdown on me by smearing my face with frosting, which I somehow forgot about even though I was basically snorting an 8 ball of sprinkles the entire time. Nobody had a candle, so someone (I am 100 % 50/50 that it was me) had the disgusting idea of using a lit cigarette instead, which is even more ironic since none of us smoke. Then, everyone was so fucked up they actually ate the cancer cake. Then, since we apparently love wasting alcohol we decided to Read more…
The guy I cocked last night seems to think I look like Jacob from Twilight. Yes, he is very very attractive so No, he doesn’t have to be smart or have especially good taste. So the pic to the left is me trying my best to look like Taylor Lautner–asian nail salon judgy eyes, nose resembling a recycled soup can and juiced up shoulders abound. And I did try to growl for him but it came out sounding more like a guinea pig receiving a prostate exam.
Let me also formally state that I don’t understand why everyone is out and about and clogging up the trains so early. Doesn’t anyone sleep anymore?
Okay so its no secret that I’ve been MIA because the amount of alcohol floating through my system this weekend would be enough to send the entire Osbourne family into a diabetic coma. This weekend was probably the craziest birthday weekend I have ever had. So lets talk about Friday night.
“Even though everyone told Priscilla her derby hat made her look like Toadstool from Super Mario, she proudly hoofed down that West Palm runway working her Victoria’s Secret Ecru Camisole like she was for sale and the rent was due tomorrow.”
I don’t typically go out on Tuesdays but now this blog has given me an excuse, which was all I needed. But I was alone at home, and Logan and Keyster had been out drinking since 7. It was 10 pm. What’s a tranny to do?
I decided a game of catchup was in order. I filled a wine glass with stoli and soda water and voila. There is a reason I don’t drink alone though, and it isn’t because I am worried about alcoholism. Read more…