Costa Rica

I´m on the pacific coast a couple hours west of San Jose. Who knew they have internet in Central America? The keyboards are funky. Ok, other than that, I swear i´m not the type to blog while on vacation. Be back soon. Happy New Year.

Wait, what day is it?

besos

Oh, the Weather Outside...

If you heard that alcohol numbs pain and then saw my recent drinking pattern, you'd think that this week I'd been caught in a serious barbrawl or hit by a car or had one of those eye exams where they put acid-stinging anethetic drops on your pupils and then stick the rod with the blue light on the end into your eyeball. (My glasses mysteriously broke Saturday night, and I needed a new prescription.) Get a grip, Andrew.

So I've rocked out my two holiday office parties now (one for the department and one for the firm) and have come to the following conclusion; litigators are scary drunks. I found myself last night at 11pm for the smaller office party in a karaoke bar belting out "Hungry Like the Wolf" with the firm's new youngest partner, who I think in a week or two will be my new boss. She'd mentioned she used to have Duran Duran posters all over her walls, so the stupid part of my brain went over and signed us up for a duet. Then I sloshed 7&7 all over her suit while howling and making claws with my hands. Go me. Rather than burning bridges after I cross them, I like to make sure they're well-demolished before I even get there.

It also doesn't help that through some Christmas Miracle of scheduling, this morning's hangover coincided with "Bring your Kid to Work Day." I'm just trying to sit here with my Post and coffee and not be noticed, but has reached the point where I am going clothesline and dropkick the next tyke who runs screaming past my desk I swear to god.

Holiday Season? Time to get Drinkin'.

Last night, I went to the Delancey for a party with my cousin, who works for the PR firm Girlie Action. Via Gina was invited because I had a feeling it would be her sort of scene, but unfortunately she came down with a case of Whooping Suck-Ass and had to stay home for the night with television and a burrito and I went by myself. (The roommate is dead to me. At least until he stops coming home from work at 2am. And he wonders why he keeps hooking up with office mates. Yeesh.) Very fun- open bar and a fireplace were more than enough to warm up after the -10 degree windchill off the East River on the walk up Delancey St., and I think it might have been the best people-watching spot in town. Well, after the crowd for the Hawk-Vigil. They sound like a lively bunch. (And who wouldn't want to hang out with Mary Tyler Moore?)

Update: Yeah, I know where the party's at. [via Gawker]

It's one of Those Weeks

This morning before work, I was walking into Chinatown to the Post Office on E. Broadway to pick up my passport for the upcoming vacation to Costa Rica, when a white van made a left turn through the crosswalk too fast and knocked me over. I slipped hard, fell flat on my back by the driver's door, and saw him looking down at me. Then, as I started to get up, he sped off toward the FDR. A little Chinese woman on the sidewalk was shaking her hand and yelling at him. It was all very quick, and I just kept going, ruminating on all the clever things I should have said or done; throw a shoe, perhaps. Or shout "Wanna back up and try again?" If he had rolled down his window and asked if I was ok, I could have asked "of course I'M ok, but you look like you need a doctor! It must really hurt, having your head up your own ass like that." So while I was muttering to myself and holding my left arm, I heard a tinny voice shouting "Mister-Mister! Mister-Mister!" and I turned around to see the sidewalk lady running towards me, holding out my wristwatch. It got knocked off and was lying in the street. Thanks a lot, Mr. Asshole-in-the-white-van. Going to the Post Office is bad enough without your help.

MC- Highline's Bouncers during the brawl Sat. nite

An interesting Missed Connection just went up on CraigsList Manhattan:

Reply to: anon-52323342@craigslist.org
Date: 2004-12-11, 5:00AM EST

I never caught your name, but you know mine; you checked my ID at Highline's door around midnight. I really looked forward to maybe seeing you later on downstairs by the pool, say around 3am when the drunk jersey guy in the muscle tee knocked that little Asian dude off his stool and started yelling at everybody. We totally might have met up when he started throwing punches at the tall guy over by the bar, or when his goon friends were getting punched and wrestled to the floor. We must have just missed each other when the B&T charmer hitting strangers in the head from behind got pounded with a barstool. A great opportunity to catch you could have been when 'roid rage man shoved that girl over a table, or when she punched him in the nose for it after- boy was that funny! We could have laughed and laughed. Oh, the stories we've already missed together. I thought for sure you would come by once 4 or 5 of your patrons were bloody, that we'd bump into each other if the soundsystem got wrecked, that you might wander in if stools and bouncy chairs started crashing into the bottles behind the bar. It would have been especially great to find you coming downstairs before Round 2 started with a shout of "Suck my b_lls," but I understand if you had other affairs to handle. Security is no joke, I'm certain! But we sure must have had some near misses!

Since I assume you're not going to be working there anymore, I didn't know how else to get in touch with you. But I really was feeling your leopard cowboy hat. Who would have guessed a eternity-lasting brawl could be such a c-b for making the acquaintance of a bouncer? Fate is such a fickle mistress!


this is in or around the very bloody Meatpacking District
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

52323342