Monday, September 24, 2007

Watch out....buttstorm on the horizon

The boys are back, the boys are back in taauueeewn. Gotta love the 80’s…..and who else loves the 80’s, why my Chicago guy friends! Yes I was blessed this past weekend with a visit from my very good friends Bill, Big Mike, and Ryan.

On Thursday, Bill and Ryan few in from Chi-town. Our first stop beer! Well actually it was the second stop after lunch, whatever. I took them down 46th street which is dubbed restaurant row because it has a shit load of eateries. Anyway, we passed house of brews and Ryan convinced us to stop in since they had Kroninberg (some French beer he cannot find anywhere in Chicago). Count it, their first – but not last – beer in New York.

We headed over to 5th Ave for some window shopping and tourist activities (guilty pleasures). Walking thru times square we saw the Naked Cowgirl. I’ve seen the Naked CowBOY before, but never this chick. She was wearing a tiny sequined skirt and pasties! Yes, tiny nipple covers were the only things above her waist unless you count the cowboy hat. The guitar was a total prop because she did not even attempt to play it.

First stop was the NBC store (30 Rock) since Bill needed to get Melissa a Conan O’Brian shirt. Evidently they don’t think they have a female fan base because there was nothing smaller than a men’s large. Oh well maybe she can belt it. Walking up 5th towards the park, we happened to pass the NBA store. Okay all of my previous visitors have been women, so I didn’t even realize the store existed. Well it was like catnip to the boys! They found all sorts of sweet three stripe gear that was actually their sizes. Score except Ryan forgot his credit card and could not get anything (the saddest face ever!). The major defect in the store was the mile long ramp down to the lower level. You seriously needed to pack essentials and notify next of kin before partaking on the trip.

At the edge of the park, we gathered around a group of street break dancers. A quick side note, the boys are all huge break dance fans except none of them (I think) can actually do the moves. One time we got Big Mike really drunk at 1056 bar in Chicago and he tried to throw down on the cardboard. Unfortunately his cartwheel did not turn out as planned and he catapulted himself into the crowd. Two of the performers were all acrobatic and awesome and stuff. We could have watched them for hours except them stopping to request another “donation” got old after the third time.

No worries, we caught another street break dance troop on the other side of the park in Columbus Circle. This group had two girls (my fave was Ill Jill) and Bill managed to get the best crotch shot ever, by accident….suuuure. I wish my camera was more ready because they spun a guy on another guy’s head. We left when the flat out halted the show and ordered the people to pay another $40 (after they had come around twice in the last five minutes).

Walking back down 8th Ave. the guys I think finally realized what I meant when I say “I live in the smut district”. We stopped around the corner for a pizza dinner. Count it, first pizza meal (many to follow). That night we stopped at the Irish Rouge only to defer to a more “slummy” venue, Circus. The only highlight is the tatted up girl bartender giving Ryan a free beer after calling Magic Hat Circus Brew, “you know, the clown boy beer”.

Friday morning we headed down to Chelsea and then Madison Square Park/Flat Iron Building. We stopped for a burger at the NY Burger Company since the Shake Shack had a line around the block (I vow one of these days I will eat there). We sat in the window to people watch (well mostly this hipster girl in short cut off jean shorts and leggings). Well the onion rings were so good (voted #1 by GQ) that every passerby stared at them. Seriously, everyone! Their eyes would be looking around and then zoom in on the onion rings. On the way back to the apartment to meet up with Big Mike, we made our second stop to the NBA store. Learning the lesson on the previous visit, Bill and I vetoed the lengthy ramp walk.

You can tell the boys are creatures of habit since we stopped again at the House of Brews for our pre concert drink. There we put down a tower of Delirium and another tower of something beer like. Now the whole point of the boys’ visit to NYC (beside seeing their best gal pal) is the Underworld concert in central park. This DJ & singer/guitarist duo is best known for a the Trainspotting song. Think techno rave like and you will get the idea.

Okay you have three huge guys and me. Who gets stuck wearing the backpack jammed with towels (for sitting, stupid idea)…! Yep, I was like the little Sherpa that could. I was going beer for beer with the boys which resulted in one veeeeeery drunk Lindsay. I kept bonking people with my huge backpack like some comedy of a guy and a ladder.

While trying to hail a cab, I had the greatest need to pee. Okay, everyone has been there. When you are wasted and need to “go” your options are to pee on something or yourself. Granted the booze makes you disregard certain sanitary standards like an enclosure. Yep, if drunk enough you will pretty much pee anywhere. I hopped a privacy hedge and relived myself on an old money brownstone. The doorman came chasing after me, so I was hiking up my pants while running down 5th ave. Yep, I am classy enough to publicly urinate on the upper east side.

We headed over to my Hell’s Kitchen dive Rudy’s after a brief detour at my favorite times square hot dog vender. The lure of Rudy’s is duct tape seats, cheap beer, and free hot dogs. Even though we just had some dogs from the vender, we swallowed down a horde of bar dogs (the next day my stomach was all “why do you hate me Lindsay, seriously, why”). The boys were in heaven.

Bree and Ali were finally able to meet the boys. I don’t think they ever believed me when I said they are huge. Bree kept going “oh my god you are so big”! I finally have pictures of me since Bill was also documenting the trip. Too bad they only revealed how I look when wasted! I seem to get this funny face that I tend to think is sexy but looks more like I am ready to sneeze.

The next morning came all too quickly as we headed out to the Statue of Liberty. I grabbed a water bottle in the fridge to take with me because it would be a long morning. While walking through the subway station, I took a giant swig. I immediately spit it out in a big spray which startled the boys as well as all the other subway paitrons. Turns out the water bottle was full of vodka! Well I guess it is one way to cure a hangover....or become an alcoholic.

I thought we were going to loose Bill since he took a picture in the security tent (what are they afraid of us seeing….long lines and x-ray machines…way to set the priorities) and was barked at by the 15 year old looking guard. Yep, the word of the day was lines! Lines for the ferry, lines for the statue, lines for the food…..I think we spent more time in line than actually all up in that bitch. Yeah the boys put spins on our visit to the national landmark by saying she took all of us inside at the same time, and something about having sex with her foot (don’t know who said that, but it stuck).

We hit up the usual sites down in lower Manhattan, like the bull, wall street, NYSE, Federal Hall, Trinity Church, St. Paul’s, and ground zero. I had hoped there would be a lot more memorials up at ground zero since the anniversary was earlier that week. A 9/11 firemen showed up and said hello to a passing tour group. One thing that really irked me was sketchy people trying to covertly sell you souvenirs (like pictures or posters) at the site. I told one of them off because I think it is disrespectful. On a lighter note, the Bull cracked us all up. It is atomically correct and has some major balls on it. They are all shiny from being polished by tourists. Seriously, everyone thinks rubbing them is funny (yeah all sorts of mad foreign people all cracking up and posing with them).

Walking around we played the “TB” (titty bounce) game. Basically it is something Bill made up where you look at a girl’s boobs bounce while she walks. We will be walking down the street and bill will say “she’s playing”. No scoring, like I said a reason to stare at boobs. Yeah I should start the gender equivalent game for seeing which side the man junk is on or something.

The afternoon consisted of naps (mmmmnnn wonderful naps) except for Bill who put together Bree’s new loft bed. In theory it was a great idea. Too bad when completed it put her about one to two feet from the ceiling. I’ve heard her bumping her head at night. I’ll be like “Bree” and she is like “huh, ouch”.

Maria came down from the burbs just in time to take a shot of the horrid Jamaican rum I brought back with me. The whole gang (Bree, Maria, Bill, Big Mike, and Ryan) made a quick food run at the local pizza place. The guys behind the counter shouted at us “hey it is the BIG guys again!” Evidently, Bill and Big Mike visited them the previous night after Rudy’s.

Davila met up with us and I took the boys to McSorely’s pub down in the St. Mark’s/East Village/Noho/whatever neighborhood. It was packed (as usual) but luckily we scored a table. Actually the waiters saw the guys and worked quickly to get them out of the way. The boys marveled at the idea of two beers per person and the choice of light or dark.

Side note – there is this spoof on Dateline’s to catch a predator (here is the link: Anyway if you watch it you will see the “predator guy” flexing his muscles while saying “boosh”. Well that sound is the running joke of the group. Every time we finish a beer, we would scream “BOOSH” and slam the mug down. It eventually evolved so we were all grunting boosh at eachother like our civilization had regressed back to the cavemen era. Bill had the line of the night when he said “ring ring (then picked up the pay phone next to him, tapped a stranger guy next to us) it is for you, it’s BOOSH”. Ah ha ha ha.

Okay normally the McSorely’s waiters are all surly straight-off-the-boat Irishmen. Well they loved us! Seriously, one guy even posed for a picture with dozens of full beer mugs. You could say we are just that charismatic, but I think they liked us because we drank a crap load of beer. Our tab came out to $180 (they even put a smiley face in the zero). Each beer is $2.25 so we put away 80 drinks there!

The random moment of the night came when a nearby table suddenly stood up and started to sing the national the top of their lungs! We were like, why not, and joined in. Soon the whole bar is singing along with hands over hearts. Very random indeed, but you gotta love it.....otherwise you are a terrorist.

Well the 80 beers took its toll because the boys were smashed. We were denied entrance to St. Mark’s tavern because the boys were too intoxicated. Bree took off to get a tattoo, but thankfully they would not ink her because she was wasted (unlike the shady place that gave Farrell his mark). Luckily for us, there was a bar willing to serve us right next to the tattoo parlor.

Midnight turned into 4am and we grabbed pizza yet again! Count it, this was the forth time in two-1/2 days (well 5th for Bill since he had pizza for lunch as well)! Hmmm boys and pizza, makes sense like hipsters and tight pants. Big Mike was not happy with his Ray’s calzone and ended up tossing it at some cab.

Sunday was met with severe hangovers and more tourist activities. I ended up taking them down to Canal street in Chinatown where you can buy bags of NYC crap for $10. We also hit up the Feast festival in Little Italy so we could much on mozzerrepa sandwiches (sweetened cornmeal Mcgriddles with a slice of mozzarella in between, mmmmnnnnn greasy goodness). While making a detour around little Italy (it was crazy packed), we accidentally walked into the Chinatown open fish market. Yep, semi-live fish and eels right there in the street. Okay I still smell fish on my clothes, time to burn them. That put a stopper on the days activities just in time for the boys to hop on a flight back to Chicago. They will be missed…..after I wake up from my nap.


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