Back Dipping Zipper Ripping Advennture. 8.17.04

In some words, the weekend consisted of two friends in town. In the left corner, athletic and as pretty as ever, sharp and principled, now living in Orange County, CA, the inestimable Tusi. And in the right corner, from St. Louis (aka the Lou), flashing her tits across the country and her sharp wit at anyone who gets in her way, the incomparable J-Rich and her chill as hell friend Val.

Tusi and I took in the Yuppie West Side and all the old haunts from my youth with Shevi and Elle. Which are no longer there—Café Lalo is still displaying film stills from You Got Mail, Drip and the charming coffeeshop down the street no longer exists, having been replaced by construction, a “malt shoppe,” and some standard wanna be too-clean pub that belongs in Chicago or Boston or midtown. Also removed was the sh*tty club Indigo, the home of embarrassed eye covering and a couple of youthful indiscretions. God, 1998 was a poor year for me. I know what you’re thinking and no the other years haven’t been much better.

Thursday, Tusi and I sat on the Central Park grass and were taken for coffee/ pre-dinner with her cousin Beiruz (sp?) and her friend Lillie who is cooler than Vanilla Ice, cool enough that I do believe she’ll take up some future column width in this blog. Depending on how much time she spends with her boy and how ridiculous she gets.

Friday I stumbled out of bed to meet Jen and her friend Val, plus Shashi. Good stuff. Ambled uptown into some drama none of it involving me. Thinking about it makes me want to take a dump. That has to be an important psychological reaction, one that I always obey. I found myself faced with two choices. Crappy bar with awful music or crappy bar with awful people and hot bathrooms.

Thankfully I chose the bathrooms. Got my dance on. Saw L’il G-Ball and her pants dropping boyfriend. Missed seeing Serge the cock lifter. Rocked out with my cock out. Best moment, looking out and seeing Riz/ Jen/ Val/ Arroz/ Shashi across the street from bOb’s and covered in sweat, girl Sammy across the street, looking for us. 3 AM. Slept in Jen + Val’s hotel room. Word. Thanks, ladies.

Saturday I tried to sleep the day away and found myself back in the city at night with nothing to do. L’il Haylz confirms my suspicions—very few chill places to dance to the house music (though she was in Miami… I should have brought her number and called her dancing ass). So Jen, Val and I went bowling. Because the ‘Lou girls looove that over dancing. But it was pouring and none of us was up for a walkaround the neighborhood, peeking in this place and that, trying to find the right vibe and the dance music.

Stayed at the hotel again, took the ‘Lou girls to the battery and up to Chambers, met with Riz and Arroz at Lombardi’s. I realized I’d been running into people I knew all weekend—Kandle and Rachelle on Saturday night, January from high school on Friday night, Shevi’s mom Manette on Friday afternoon, Lauren from Camp DeFambul on Sunday afternoon, some c*nt from Pi Phi Sunday afternoon—yeah, I said it.

That’s your recap. Chicago will come, if only for my need to chronicle all of the Chicago trips.

Side note—thanks, Misanthrope Anna, for meeting me for a few hours and the MetroCard. Thanks to Joel for swinging by one more night for a couple of beers. Thanks to Heather and Mike for being really silly and for trying out for Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. And to Jason P. for popping up at NYU this morning.