Skip to main content

Where the F@!& is the Thong Song....

So it's been a long weekend.  And this probably isn't a real post.  but please read on...or just look at the pictures....the pictures are good.

Reuniting with parisian-amis is always a good, random, sloppy, wine-soaked time.  Friday night started off with dinner during which I discovered a fun surprise on the way to the bathroom.  Photo.  Booth.  There are few things in life that make me happier than photos but photo-booths give me the instant glee and gratification of a child presented with ice cream.  After the second WC trip and the third glass of wine, I'd convinced AM and JM that there was no way we we leaving without a photo series.

Unfortunately I don't have the photos.  I'm sure AM got her hands on them but I will be peer-pressuring her for a scanned image to upload.  In any case, I'll describe.   First, we had to beat out a 9-year old who was the only other person at The Smith who hadn't out-grown the fun of photo-booths (except me) .  Then we had to fit three people in a space that is definitely designed for one maybe two but definitely not three.  The picture was not great.  especially for me.  You really can't see me because the booth was backlit.  And JM's huge head strategically stole the spotlight.  But, I digress.  More important than the bathroom photo-booth was the subsequent party.  It was CA's bday which is why the three of us made our way form union square to a basement fun house in Korea-town for Karaoke.

That's where things got really sloppy:  I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.



 









All in all it was a great night.  One beef.  Where the fuck was The Thong Song.  CA had plastic guitars and Hawaiian leis.  She had Karaoke...but I have never, never, been to a bar or bat that didn't have 'dumps like a truck' or 'thighs like what'.   No Sisquo.  There's something wrong with that.  Fortunately it didn't ruin my karaoke jam and they still had MJ (ABC and Thriller) and 'N'sync (I want it that way) and the owner are lucky cause I totally would've burned that bitch down.  Yeah...it would've lit up like Siquo's hair...in effigy.

Also my computer keeps saying that Sisquo is spelled improperly and I'm convinced that it's only because it lacks the accent over the 'o'.  I'd never noticed that before and that somehow make me like him better.



AW- Sisquo = Sisqo
I want it that way = Backstreet Boys

Good day sir.Mar 15
Me - I thought about that when I re-read it. And was like...I really want to know who is going to correct me...congratulations.

And Good day sir.EditMar 15
AW - are you surprised? haha.

i was just hoping that i didn't come off too rude, but the 12 yr-old girl inside me had to object to anyone who confuses 'N SYNC with the lowly Backstreet Boys.Mar 15
Me - um. not at all. and the 12-yr old girl inside me says: This 'tells me whhhyyyy' we're friends.EditMar 15
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"On Losing" or "On Dating Down" or "On 'Jesus He is Not As Attractive As Her'"

I people watch. I am friends with people watchers. We watch people together. And sometimes we play games. In parks we see if people actually match their dogs. At cafes we look at couples and decide who is the loser and who is the winner. I'll define: The Loser: The person who is, for all shallow purposes, more attractive, probably smarter, and/or cooler. Also the one who has more friends. The Winner: The inferior of the pair who has somehow been blessed with money or a good heart or the psychotic break/blindness of their partner. You play this game long enough and you start to notice a trend. Girls lose so often and they lose bad. It gets so much more tragic when you move beyond the game. You begin to understand that this silly game is emblematic of life. You think of your friends who cry over losers (in this game winners). I mean guys who were, are, and will be, losers in life. And then with the slow, horrifying suspense of a nouvelle vague film you t
2 comments
Read more

Dear United Healthcare Insurance

I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry I graduated and you felt you had to leave me. But I never wanted to part ways with you. I need you in (and for) my life. I've been so sick, actually ill, all week. And while I would usually turn into your united-caring arms, I find myself alone. The pain has been unbearable. I want you back. I need you back. When we first got together I had no baggage, no pre-existing conditions. But now I'm older and life has matured me and I need you more than ever. But is the cost too high? What premium am I willing to pay for your undivided-extended coverage? The truth is I'll pay anything. Just don't deny me. Can you resist this face? Lots of love, Coping with Cobra after College
1 comment
Read more

I Realize It's Wednesday But...

So Big C works on Irving Place and I used to always make him take me to this mediocre Chinese food place down the street.  It was a sort of reparation for forcing me (an overweight, bookish, and oh-so-awkward) middle schooler to meet co-workers and bosses at his company and wait for hours..... hours for him to decide that he had worked enough for that day.   I never fully understood why I liked this place so much.  It's got this gaudy decor with garish chandeliers and faux-wood panelling.  It's like those party venues which advertise on public access television and where you imagine the Gotti family has hosted every special occasion ever. Tonight I find myself heading back there with AB and co.  But on my last visit (during the summer) I made a shocking revelation which would wondrously connect my current and middle-school self in some existential meaning-of-life way.  Two words.  Free wine. I've never been someone who's huge on going out of my way for free things..
1 comment
Read more