Archive | August, 2011

August 28, 2011

28 Aug

Well wasn’t that the pussiest hurricane that ever hit America.  We were all hoping for some excitement this weekend, and all we got was a shitton of rain.  With all the evacuation mandates, I wasn’t concerned about my or others’ safety — what I was really fearing was: 1) will Seamless be up and running on Sat and Sun, and 2) if our power goes out, how the fuck was I supposed to watch True Blood and Curb Your Enthusiasm on Sunday night.  I was in Zone B (if my disapproving Asian father had found that out, he would have angrily asked, WHY NOT ZONE A?!?!??!), and I knew that if Seamless or power went out anywhere, Stuy Town was going to be the first to suffer.

So with those two major concerns in mind, I packed my bags and sought technological refuge two avenues away at S’s apartment for the weekend, which was on the edge of Zone C.  I contemplated moving to an even safer zone at B/T’s apartment, but I changed my mind after realizing that would mean having to listen to their literal gay love making sounds in the middle of the night in their nice studio apartment.  Also, S was better prepared for the weekend — he too fearing that Seamless would be down for the weekend and no delivery boys would be available for service, S had gone ahead and ordered about 6 meals for himself, which I had also obviously planned to partake in.

S's Fridge

S's Fridge

The day was still young and in keeping with our weekend daytime drinking routines, B/T/S and I went searching for bars in the area, but unfortunately pretty much all of them were closed because none of the poor workers who lived in the other boroughs could get into Manhattan to work the kitchen due to the subway shutdown.  It seemed the only bars that were braving this storm were Penny Farthing and Pourhouse, which is exactly where we spent Sat drinking while we all waited for the storm to come.

Oh, and I guess Pete’s Tavern was open too:

Pete's Tavern

Pete's Tavern

Unfortunately after almost the full day had passed it was still barely even raining, and we were all getting a little frustrated with Irene — seemed like Irene needed a good ass raping to get her to start shedding her tears on NYC.   Given this weather  disappointment and in true frat form, M was actually hosting a bday drinking fest in LES, so I left the popped collars at Pourhouse to join some hipsters down at some unknown bar in LES followed by another unknown bar in th East Village followed by McSorley’s.  By then I had lost track of time with one too many drinks in me, and when I finally took a second to look outside it was suddenly already pitch dark with some ridiculously heavy rain pouring down on the street.  I quickly took a cab back up to S’s apartment where B/T had already gone several hours ago (apparently every cab was charging a flat rate of $10 to get anywhere within a few blocks, which was bullshit — despite the fact that I took a cab, I somehow still managed to get completely soaking wet just crossing from one side of the street to the other).  Luckily S had found the one restaurant that was still delivering a few hours before the heavy rain had hit and had ordered yet another huge meal of fajitas, quesadillas and chips/guac to last us all through the night.

Hurricane Storage

Hurricane Storage

Fast forward a few hours to 1am when I was already passed out from one too many bourbon drinks, and I get a call from F who was just coming home from the wedding he was at.  Peripheral friend E had gotten married at the Harvard Club on Sat, which probably could not have been worse luck.  Poor E’s hair and makeup person had already canceled earlier in the day, and A had to bring her computer to the reception as backup in case the DJ canceled as well.  The most ironic thing was that E’s mom’s name is Irene — yikes, she’s probably really blaming herself.

Despite the natural disaster, apparently the wedding was still a blast and F was completely shitfaced when he came back to S’s apartment.  By the time he came home the storm was actually pretty ridiculous outside, yet F was determined to go back out there to find some late night food at 7 Eleven.  I wished him luck and fell back asleep, but when I suddenly woke up at 4am to find F still gone, I got a bit worried.  I went to the bathroom to find – oddly – Chinese food spilled in the bath tub; I went to the front door to find it wide open; I went to the living room to find no F.  Confused and concerned I went to S’s bedroom to – oh there he is – to find F snuggling with S with both of them snoring loudly.  I should have figured.  The next morning I found out that F had indeed gone out in the storm to get some 7 Eleven, had lost S’s umbrella to the strong winds, had found some really old leftover Chinese food in S’s fridge but then had spilled it all on the floor so had attempted to flush it all down the bath tub, then had disrobed, changed into one of S’s polo shirts, and joined S in his bed.

After a long, restless night, the next morning we all awoke to find some seriously disturbing post-disaster scenes:

Hurricane Casualties

Hurricane Casualties

On top of that, Seamless still wasn’t working.  “No damage done” my ass.  The true test of when NYC will be restored back to normal will be when ethnic delivery boys are running around on their bikes again, those unwanted Brooklynites go back to their own borough instead of infecting ours, and the city rats go back underground to the sewers and subways where they belong instead of roaming the streets of Manhattan.  Only then will I feel safe again in this city I call home.

August 23, 2011

23 Aug

Well there was an earthquake today.  In typical NYC fashion people started freaking out that 9/11 was happening all over again, our entire building was evacuated, and people were running around going crazy in the streets.  I think the highlight of my day was when we returned to our office after things settled down, we all started popping open bottles of champagne, and then our creative director pulls me aside and goes:  “Are you  ok.  You look hungry.  Here.”  And just hands me his lunch.  Either I looked really upset from the quake (I wasn’t — so clearly it was just my natural facial expression) or my efforts at making myself known as the garbage disposal around the office were really working.  Either way, obviously I said “SURE” and got a free second lunch.  Apparently the story was that he had gotten his lunch before the quake, then when we evacuated for the quake and had our company “meeting place” in front of Hale & Hearty, he got a craving for Hale & Hearty instead, so now he had this extra lunch.  It was street food but it was damn good street halal food, and more importantly, it was free.  Thanks to the quake.

August 21, 2011

21 Aug

It’s people like me who celebrate their birthday twice.  F is like me and had his official bday dinner with his 20 closest friends on Tuesday night, then had his official bday bash with his 20 closest friends again on Saturday night.  Tuesday night was incred – I initially fought against the tapas idea (for selfish reasons obviously – tapas never fill me up enough; they’re pretty much priced like a regular dish except it comes in a midget portion).  But Mercat turned out to be more than enough food.  Probably because we had our base set of dishes, then ordered twice that amount after we finished that because we were all still starving.  Plus 20 bottles of red wine for 20 people.

Mercat Dinner Base Menu

Formatges y Embotits

3 Cheese Selection (Manchego, Garrotxa, La Peral)

Assortment of Embotits


Patates Braves



Tonyina amb Escabetx

Cuina de Mercat



Pebrots farcits




I had no idea what any of that meant.

For some reason the 3 Asians invited to the dinner were forced into one corner of the large table, and they made us eat from different plates and drink from separate water fountains.  Except this time it was to my benefit, since the rest of the table was splitting the tapas dishes among groups of 4 guys, and then I was splitting tapas dishes with just 2 other girls, both of whom were going to be bridesmaids in a wedding in 2 weeks and were really trying to watch their waistline.  Here’s just a sampling of what I ate that night:

Tuna Tartare and Cheese

Tuna Tartare and Cheese

Pork Belly

Pork Belly



After dinner we all took turns pouring wine into each other’s mouths from those decanters with a long spout.  I know that sounds sexy and all, but it really wasn’t when I tried to impress the table with my wine drinking skills and instead a drop went down the wrong tube and I projectile spat out a full mouthful of wine onto the restaurant floor and started gagging uncontrollably.  Not the first time that’s happened to me in life.  I was most irritated by the amount of wine I had just wasted.

Anyway, after Tuesday night we were all looking forward to Saturday when B/A were actually supposed to throw a huge combined daytime August birthday bash for B, S and F since they had missed out on their bdays by taking a two-week trip to the worst places in the world, Seattle and Portland.  We were looking forward to day drinking and techno all day on B’s rooftop with close friends, but 24 hours in advance, they cancel the party on us due to “weather” reasons (really they just didn’t want to hang out with us after all).  Saturday turned out to be a gorgeous day perfect for day drinking, and pissed about our lack of party plans, the rest of us just decided to day drink elsewhere, and F decided to throw his own bday bash at the Watering Hole that night.  In preparation for Saturday night, S naturally decided to shotgun a Four Loko, which was probably bad news considering the last time he shotgunned a Four Loko I accidentally sent him to the ER.  Anyway, he ended up fine this time – after falling asleep at the bar for half the party, he rallied for the second half of it by aggressively drinking whiskey after whiskey.

Watering Hole was pretty fun considering it’s an Irish bar with karaoke (huh??) but their song selection and music videos weren’t quite the authentic karaoke experience that we have every other weekend in Ktown.  This place was full of people who you could tell were clearly in an acappella group in college and karaoke was the way they were reliving their dreams in NYC – but I don’t mean the Quinn and Puck jocks-but-secretly-acappella type; I mean like the Mercedes and Artie and fat opera lady/men types who didn’t even need a microphone to project their voices throughout the entire loud bar.  This place also had some Irish dbag controlling the song entries, and he was clearly picking and choosing favorites and discriminating against the Asian.  I was there for 3 hours, submitted 4 songs, and only got to sing Total Eclipse of the Heart.  The karaoke DJ probably would have gotten seriously hurt if it weren’t for the free pitchers of beer that were calming me down the entire night (courtesy of the bday boy).  Anyway, all in all a successful night where no one actually got hurt, I drank for free, and sang some oldies but goodies with good friends.

August 7, 2011

8 Aug

Well I knew it — S’s pescegan stomach couldn’t handle the meat smorgasbord weekend.  I hadn’t eaten in 18 hours in preparation for 5 meals per day this weekend, but apparently I was the only person who took the agenda that S sent out seriously.  I arrived to S’s apartment on Saturday promptly at 1pm with his bday present in hand — I was so inspired by K’s meat basket bridesmaid gift to me last October that I decided to copy the idea and make a shit-your-pants meat basket for S’s bday in honor of the breaking of his diet.  It didn’t end up being as impressive as K’s basket to me, but I thought I had a nice representation of beef nuggets, jalapeno beef jerky, smoked bacon, chorizo, salami, pate, etc.  I also knew S was only breaking his diet for the weekend and that he probably wouldn’t be able to go through the entire meat basket in one weekend, so I had a hunch I would be able to partake in some of the shit-your-pants as well.  Luckaaaayyyyyy 😀  S saw right through me.

Meat Basket

Meat Basket

Anyway, we were off to a good start on Saturday at Hill Country, which was S’s first pork meal:

Ribs & Brisket

Ribs & Brisket

As delicious as the ribs and brisket were, I was trying to pace myself, knowing we were going to Zum Schneider next.  We finished off our beers, settled the check, and I was preparing to catch us a cab to go to Little Bosnia when S goes “ehhh let’s go to B&T’s apartment instead.”  ???????  When were we going to go to Zum??  I STILL HUNGRY!!!  Apparently S’s bowel issues had already started.  We ended up never going to Zum and just drinking Four Lokos and having a dance party at B&T’s apartment.  I was slightly disappointed but let this one slide since it was S’s birthday and he could really do whatever he wanted.  After about 6 hours of drinking at the apartment and listening to Bieber, we were all pretty hungover by the time we went to dinner at Momofuku.  Strength in rallying, so I had 3 Old Fashioneds accompanied by 5 courses.



Pork Belly Buns

Pork Belly Buns

Pork Shoulder

Pork Shoulder

It’s very few people who actually pick up the table’s tab for their own birthday.  But S picks up the tab pretty much every year for his bday, which is why it’s shocking he even allowed 12 people and significant others to attend.  I can guarantee that for my birthday I will most certainly not pick up the tab, and significant others will absolutely not be allowed at my dinner, which is a policy I reinforce year after year.  Everyone knows I like my birthdays to be with my 30 closest friends, and my 30 closest friends only.  S doesn’t have 30 closest friends, but here’s who was invited to his bday dinner:

You are very special to me. And I don’t mean special in the way L means it (i.e. invite every bi-ped I know and haven’t f’d before). All of you play an important part in my life, except:

a) I actually really dislike two of you but feel obligated to invite you b/c of politics / pity.

b) There’s also two of you that I feel kind of “meh” about but really want to screw your girlfriend / sister and cannot risk blowing that when I’m sooo close.

c) One of you is what I would describe as an A minus friend — while this might sound pretty good, imagine that I grew up with first-generation Asian immigrant parents.

d) A good number of you are here because you possess special skills — like the skill to wake up every morning and be Black or Hispanic or Asian (not a unique skill set here).

e) A few (or a lot) of you got the nod for this list because b) already happened, and I still have a guilty conscience.

f) I absolutely hate one of you, but you’re always on time and can fill G’s seat when he flakes.

g) f) is also someone whom G would love to sleep with, and it will really teach him a lesson when he finds out that he missed dinner with him / her.

h) Generally, I don’t like any of you b/c you’re not from Texas (L, reference c)).

I was c.  Anyway, dinner was one of the best bday meals I had been to, and I was sufficiently full, despite the lack of our second meal earlier in the day.  We continued the festivities at Ninth Ward, and we didn’t think S was wasted enough from dinner, so we forced him to start a game of two men enter with this:

Bday Shots

Bday Shots

Yes, a spurting dick of Bourbon shots.  By the time he beat all of us at two men enter, S had taken 8 shots of Bourbon on top of all the drinking we had done starting at 1pm that day, and he was gone.  Birthday success.

The next day was not so successful.  Obviously the 4am Artichoke pizzas didn’t happen given S blacked out at 1:30am (expected), and neither did the 9am bacon/egg/cheese donut sandwiches given we all woke up at noon (typical).  Five Napkins Burger didn’t happen either given none of us could move from S’s couch, but luckily we remembered that we can actually pay people to bring us food instead of us going there, so we decided to just get burgers delivered over old episodes of South Park.  By 2pm I knew Kati Roll wasn’t going to happen, but F and I were still hopeful for Porterhouse at Wolfgang’s at 7:30pm.  We all went home at 3:30pm, took a 4 hour nap, then woke up promptly at 7:30pm for steak time.  Unfortunately S’s abdominals and butthole were in too much pain from all the unexpected overload of meat (that’s what she said), so Wolfgang’s didn’t happen either.  Sigh.  FAIL!!!!!!!!!!!  I’m not going to lie, I was disappointed in S’s inability to handle all the meat he had promised himself, but I really can’t complain about Hill Country, Momofuku and the amount of alcohol that was consumed this weekend.  The next meat challenge weekend will occur for my birthday in a month.  Friends, get ready.

August 2, 2011

2 Aug

S, former meat lover who has been pescegan for the past several months, is finally breaking his diet this weekend for his bday.  Here’s what’s on the agenda for the weekend:

For anyone who is interested, here is my smorgasbord weekend tour. Join @ your own peril:

Saturday (Pork Day)

1PM: Baby Back Ribs (maybe some moist brisket as well) @ Hill Country

3PM: Schweinhaxen, Brats & Beers @ Zum Schneider

9PM: 8lbs of pork shoulder, pork buns and oysters @ Momofuku Ssam

4AM: Artichoke Pizza (no pork, please don’t judge)

Sunday (Beef Day)

9AM: Bacon, egg & cheese sandwiched between two Doughnut Plant donuts @ my apartment

Noon: Bacon Cheddar Burger @ Five Napkin Burger (Hell’s Kitchen location)

3PM: Kati Roll

7:30PM (early in order to watch HBO): Porterhouse for Two (or more) @ Wolfgang’s (on Park Ave.)

Done and done.