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.



AWSisquo = 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

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

TMI Thursday: Hair Today....Gone Tomorrow

My waxist is a Nazi.   And she has been carrying out illicit-amoral experiments on my nether region.  You know that scene in The 40 Year-old Virgin , where Steve Carrell actually gets his chest waxed by a giggling asian beautician? Well, its true.  Except she's an Indian version of satan with a price on my vagina's head (?!?).  Perhaps a poor diction.   Anywho...she sucks...but do you know what sucks more?  The fact that I always take her back. There are few positions more awkward than having your legs behind your head on a table stolen from a gynecologist's office veiled with a thin piece of paper that sticks to your ass which is sweating in anticipation of the vaginal pain your body is about to shudder through.  The only thing that can make this situation more awkward is being naked from the waist down and having a woman you barely know berate you for missing your scheduled appointment a month ago.  The one you skipped because fe...

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

The Big 2.3.

So, my birthday is next week (on the 23rd).  And I've been known to do some strange things on that day: 20th.  Beat a Spongebob Pinata in Washington Square Park. 16th.  Walk the questionably safe Costa Rican beaches with AB and a drunk frat reject who kept dropping the N-bomb to the house of a complete stranger just because her name was Claudia too. 21st a.  Find and a mannequin on the street outside of bar in Tribeca. 21st b.  Play with the said mannequin. 21st c. Put money in a GoGo dancers g-string or corset.  Does it make it less weird if I say that I knew her?  What about the fact that I had never actually seen a Pastie before? I've also been know to do absolutely nothing.  I guess it depends on the year.  As you can see 21 was a good year.  But I didn't get shit-faced because I've had a fake ID and heels (the typical requirement for clubs in ny) since I was 15. This year I think I'll have a p...