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

What Seems Like A Good Idea At 5AM May Not Actually Be A Good Idea

What happens when you mix missed concerts, Pour House rejections, and AN's birthday? This was taken in Port Authority at 5:30 AM Saturday morning.  Here is us eating breakfast. We'd been out all night but decided that the only thing that could make the night better was Atlantic City. To make a long story less long and way more amusing.  We had open containers, in public.  Which I totally thought was not that big of a deal because its port authority and port authority is like a third world country whose dictator has just been shanked.  Plus, one would think that the NY equivalent of a mall cop would worry more about the pimps picking up runaways than the harmless 20 something, minding there own business, eating breakfast, who just so happen to be supremely drunk and have an open beer under their chair.  Anyway, I may have mistakenly left one underneath the bench we were sitting on when we got up to check what time the bus was coming. We thought ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Wherefore Art Thou...In The Holiday Inn...

This has nothing to do with Nelly.  RIP Nelly!...No as far as I know he's not dead.  But he has been admitted to the land of the dead in my consciousness with  DMX and JaRule which is the Gangsta's paradise of my middle school experience.  Enter Kanye... So I've been lazy for a while.  And its not because I didn't have anything to do and it's not because I was terribly busy.  I'm not sure what the real balance is between living life and reflecting on it, but I honestly miss blogging when I don't do it.  Some days, some things just inspire you.  And today it was a chubby man jogging (laboriously) in a t-shirt that said "Tiny Tim's Donut Shop". I'd like to warn you here:  This is not about that man.  But more the idea of that man.  The moments in life when you are so enraptured by something so hilariously minute that you feel the need to share that with others.  The ironic, the ridiculous, the annoying.  Those momen...
Post a Comment
Read more