Woosaa

Think of blogging as a cleansing experience; kinda like confessing, but divided by 100. 

What am I doing right now?...Laying on my dark brown leather couch sipping on a 2006 Malbec from Argentina...not the most expensive but definitely deserves a couple of your taste buds...after all, its not about the price they slap on the bottle but about its value to you...television on mute, slight ambient house on the 5.1 surround. Its a thursday, a fcking thursday, which means that tomorrow is Friday...and you know what THAT means.

But hold your donkeys, it's no party mode yet.

I just got back from work...my second job...and I was thinking on the car ride back...and no, I wasn't thinking about getting wasted or women, nor a combination of the two...I was thinking about opportunity, about goals... I have realized a lot by living in this city. Let me pass a couple pointers along...1) Listen. You can speak all you want, but you won't learn a thing. There is one saying I have; "If there's one thing better than learning from your mistakes; it's learning from other people's mistakes". 2) Open your eyes. There are plenty of paths to take and neither do you have to take the one less traveled, nor to pick just one...diversify your risks...take risks, fight and never be lazy. If you have time to be lazy, then you have too much free time. Ask your parents, they agree with me.

Ah, yes, another realization...Have you noticed that there's at least a 4 year period before it hits us that our parents were right? About what? About 90% of the fcking time. And of course college, what schools to apply to, how to not gain the freshmen 15 (no, thats a joke, fattycake)... also that you HAVE to get a good GPA when you're still in your freshmen year, because by the time you're a senior, that shit ain't going up even if the Dean's balls are hangin' on your chin (not for me, for the ladies :) Sorry, I crossed the line. You get the point though. 

We will have to continue this conversation some other time...but now its almost 12, and officially friday. Stay in school.

A recollection of the weeks past

I should probably begin by saying I should blog more. I realized that too much happens between blogs to write infrequently. Don't know who reads this, but they probably think that all AJP and I do is go to a bar once in a while and see random things on the street. Which is mostly true, but multiplied by about 100. Take last weekend for example. Last weekend was a little meatpacking district experience. The meatpacking district, for you people not familiar with the city (you people exist?) used to be this REAL grimey area apparently. When I say meatpacking, i mean MEAT PACKING.

Rewind ten years, this little block of land was full of transvestite prostitutes, the purple suited pimps that would well...pimp them, drug dealers, and a bunch of other charming characters you know your mom would love. Anyway, a while back a couple people started building clubs, restaurants, hotels, you name it. Long story short, no ladies with adams apples staring at little boys in back alleys. You get the disturbing picture. SO....fast forward ten years and this place is packed with some New Yorkers, some New Jerseyans (?) and some guys named Sven that think they're the king of Norway. They might as well be, because I couldn't care less. Oh, and some coked-up skanks that think they're hot but have never been to Europe to see a REAL beauty. Ok there's some cool people that go, its a big international hangout, which I love. Anyway, the crowd isn't exactly the deepest bunch around. Still, if you go with a bunch of friends you'll have a pretty good time. Best thing is just getting a table (look, you're gonna drink a ton anyway, might as well get some space) and hit the dancefloor whenever you feel like it.

So moving on, we went to tenjune last weekend (supposedly one of the hot spots in nyc) for a fashion week afterparty. I'm thinking fashion week afterparty, I'm thinking 20-something year old models trying to strike a pose. True to some extent, except you also had a bunch of women that looked like they were models maybe 30 years ago. Interesting sight. They still have the runway walk down. Not that I was paying any attention, we were chilling with a couple of cool ladies from DC. After tenjune, you hit up The Diner which is up the street for some 4am kobe sliders and you're all set. Cool little spot, dark, has music, and you can find it with your blurry little eyes pretty easily.

Was it two weeks ago that I went to Robbie Rivera? I forget maaaaan. There's a lot thats happened since then. Good time, music was good, people were godawful. Watch the video for the music, not the people. Funny thing is, we'd tell people we're going to Robbie Rivera, and they were like "Oh awesome, where is it?". So I'd tell them it was at Webster Hall and watch their faces melt with disgust. Funny sight, if you ever want to alienate people tell them you go to Webster Hall ALL THE TIME. WOOOOOHOOO. I'd never been so I thought people were overexaggerating a little bit. Still, its a DJ I like so I'm thinking, why not. Oh man. OH MAN. When you look up Bridge and Tunnel in the dictionary there's a picture of the front entrance. Place was packed with dudes with the spikey hair and chains, and girls with the H&M typical stupid slutty dress. You know the type. The one girls here like to wear when its maybe -5 degrees (Celsius that is, don't ask me about Fahrenheit) and it barely covers their ass. Oh, and they throw on some 15 dollar shoes and they think they're Bar Rafaeli. Class class class. Please girl, do everyone a favor and cover your orange peel legs. Thanks.

So we go up to this place, line is around the block to get in. Ok, we think, this should be a good night. My boy AJP here tips the guy up front, we don't wait in no line. This club is absolutely empty inside. I mean there's no one there for a good hour and a half. Funny thing is, this place has two levels, and when it filled up, there were wayyy more people on the hip hop level than there were to see the actual DJ. Excuse me miss, one of the top ten DJ's in the world is spinning records upstairs and you're grinding with some dude named Gino to "Get Low". I don't have anything against hip hop, but time and place for everything. Never again ma man.
Anyway, time to get ready for another night of H&M dresses and guys named Sven. Adios amigos.

What. the fuck. is THIS?

If i was a little girl, which I am not, I think that this chubby, bucktooth, bug eyed doll (troll) would give me terrible nightmares...remind me to never take my daughter (if i ever have one) to this store...woof

"Excuse me", the man said in a polite African accent. I turn to face him, a bit annoyed that someone would dare disturb me while I'm listening to the Doors. I pull one earphone out. "Excuse me, where is place with the televisions and the lights? They tell me go here, and I no can find." Televisions? Lights? I stare at him, perplexed at the man's appearance. No more than five feet in height, carrying three massive suitcases. Couldn't be more than 25 minutes in the city. "Many lights! Many televisions! Sex shops! They tell me sex shops". I smile and take it all in. I turn him around, because we're standing on the corner of Lexington and 42nd facing east. "My friend, do you see down there where there is light?" The man's face brightened like a kid who opened the big box under the Christmas tree. "Thank you my friend, thank you!" And he runs off carrying his three massive suitcases. Welcome to the City, buddy. I slip Jim Morrison back in my ear and catch the last minute of "Roadhouse Blues". Let it roll, indeed.
So I went to see a sick little DJ yesterday by the name of Dave Dresden. Great time. Cielo is not the biggest club in the world (actually, its probably one of the smallest I've been to) but its a real good time. The sound system is perfect, staff is fun, and it has a little smoking area in the back where you can meet a sweet little blonde from Belgium. Not like last week, where some chick from Iowa thought my wingman AJP and I came from Russia. Russia? RUSSIA! Does Greek sound ANYTHING like Russian? Oh wow my feathered friend. Needless to say, conversation was over rather quick. Whatever, not just because she couldn't tell Greek from Russian. She just wasn't cute enough to bother educating. Mean? I think not. That was at the Smith by the way. Another cool joint somewhere in the East Village. Good food, insane female to guy ratio for some reason. Which brings me to another point. So I'm having a conversation with a friend of mine about why its so much easier for guys than girls in the city to meet people. Ok, the ratio of girls to guys is very, very attractive for a single 20-something greek guy in new york. Why is that? So my friend tells me the ratio is so good because women from around the US come to New York to meet a Wall Street guy, get married, and live the good life. Can you believe someone would even say that? I think it might be the dumbest answer to a question I've ever heard in my life. Do I have a better answer? Don't you worry about that.

Makers Mark with a splash of coke; DENIED

Population 8,274,527. Languages spoken; about 170. NYC is ultimately the ultimate playground. What kind of sandbox depends on what you dig. Lets randomly talk about bars...very random, i know; kinda like airport security....

So this weekend a bunch of us hit up the Lower East side...and more specifically, La Caverna. To say the least, a very interesting setting with stalactites dropping down from the bar, the walls, the ceilings. I wouldn't necessarily say its my type of bar; lack of house music, abundance of gin and tonics minus the gin...but I strongly suggest you check it out; just because it tries to be unique. Even though DJ Tiesto isn't searching for sunrise I will look the other way. Now check this out. A friend got my first drink (fast forward) and now I'm about to drink (chug) my second makers mark with a splash of coke. So the place takes credit cards, yet, the bartender will not let me open a tab mainly because she is a female dog. I ask "why can't I buy a drink, i'll pay the minimum". Now the dog says, "put your drink on your friends tab". Excuse me? What? Are you out of your fcking mind? So yes, conclusion of Saturday; a paying customer might as well be considered a homeless hobo; "chaaaaaaange".

Two Weeks One Blur

The last two weeks have been a total blur.  It's not just the usual festive drinking that typically occurs around the holidays every year.  This is more a combination of random days off from work, way too much steak, maybe three hours of sleep for a week straight, and yeah a lot of maker's mark with a splash of coke.  Pretty good time, right? Yeah.  Great.  Ask me what I did last Friday, and I might collapse from confusion.  It's one of the many, many charms a city of this size and general energy craziness has.  Now believe me when I say that you wouldn't catch me ever living farther than 5 kilometers (yes, I'm using the METRIC system in the US) from a major metropolitan area.  And I'm not talking about some dinky little town in the middle of nowhere with a hundred thousand residents, 20 bars, and 5 good restaurants.  I'm talking BIG.  Many people get stressed in a city of this size, it is definitely not for everyone.  

I saw some crazy things in New York City on my first visit.  I'm talking at least 15-18 years ago.  Not that I have a photographic memory of events that happened almost a lifetime ago, but there are some things that stick in your mind.  Something in your mind gets destroyed (or created, depending on your view) the first time you see a person sleeping in a subway tunnel.  I think that was my first impression of the US.  I mean, ok, obviously I was impressed with the sheer scale of the place, but one of the first things I noticed was the homeless people.  I'm thinking, for a country this wealthy, it sure has a LOT of homeless people.  Look, I'm not going to even pretend to start a socio-economic discussion regarding homelessness and unemployment in the US versus other countries on this blog, so I'll get back to some sort of story.  As I was saying, I remember my grandmother (on mom's side) telling me her impressions of NYC.  Keep in mind this wonderful 70-year old has travelled to some parts of Europe, but was confined to a small island in the Aegean Sea (that's in Greece, before you google it) for the majority of her life.  I remember her telling me how chaotic everything was in the city, how there would be so much noise, how people always seemed in a rush, how people would look at her funny in the subways, how she never felt safe walking alone, how everything was so expensive, and how people were incredibly rude and obnoxious.  Great first impression, that's one tourist you'll never see again.  Sure, the bright flashing lights in Times Square look cool...if you live on an island...in Greece...and have once owned chickens...from which you got your daily eggs for breakfast.  Seriously, is there anything more representative of the deterioration of humanity than Times Square? Is this what the average person from the Midwest looks like? Why do you only see obese people in the little strip of real estate from 34th to 50th street? Makes me wonder what the average tourist from say, London or Tokyo, would think of New York.  I might be way overgeneralizing the matter, but it seems to me tourists in New York do a very limited number of things.  NYC tourist agenda for the typical tourist: 1) Empire State Building 2) Statue of Liberty 3) Times Square 4) A play on Broadway, 5) MAYBE a museum (although I would be shocked if the average tourist knows the difference between the moma and the Met).  Am I wrong? What are other stupid things tourists get sucked into? Out of the above activities, I walk through Times Square hating my existence at that moment, I see the Empire State Building from my window, the Statue of Liberty from my office, Broadway's cool, and the museums are fantastic.  So maybe I'll start my own tourist agency, and take pre-qualified applicants (read: not from Kentucky) on a little walking tour of some real NYC spots.  I'm talking fantastic food, insane drinks, little parks in back alleys, stores with the most random things, and a place where you can drink some premium single malt while you get your shoes shined, a haircut, and a shave.  With one of them  crazy Jack the Ripper razorblades.  Yeah, how's that for authentic.  Let's compare that experience with someone's feast at Bubba Gump's Shrimp.  Hey, all you can eat shrimp is a good thing don't get me wrong, but it's not a good thing when that shrimp comes from a tin bucket.  Am I rambling? I might have strayed a little bit off topic.  I'd go back on, but that involves thought and procedure.  Both of which are entirely unnecessary while watching Independence Day.  Yes, the movie with Will Smith and Jeff whats-his-name in it.  No, I'm not rambling.  Kali xronia file mou.

Golden Boyyy

Capiche?

More like Mojito...and while im at it, at the Mercer Hotel Bar in SoHo; Gold Mojito, get it? Get it.

Oh let's talk about New Years. 

No, lets Not. Geia mas (cheers; in greek)