Articles Archive for 8 March 2004
I went to Trust and Nocturne on Saturday night. For those of you not “in the know”, they are two hip clubs here in NYC.
And of course, I was completely freaked out. As I mentioned, I rarely, rarely go to clubs. I’ve been to about five or six clubs since 2000, and three have been in the past two weeks.
I went because it was my friend’s birthday, and I figured, “Hey – I wouldn’t do this normally, so what the fuck?” Of course, I didn’t realize the financial implications of such a decision at the time, as I had been drinking (rather expensive) wine, courtesy of my friend’s parents, for about four hours. Trust wasn’t too bad, probably because we were only there from about 10pm to 1am. But Nocturne – wow. Go-go dancers, live musicians walking around playing along to the clubby music, a weird gothic vibe – I would have hidden in the bathroom the entire time if it hadn’t been for the overly friendly attendant and the fact that it’s covered in mirrors, so you can see your bird from nine-hundred different angles. I figured that I would have one drink and gracefully make my exit, but I didn’t have any cash on me (having spent it all at Trust) so I planned to put my card on the bar. When I gave it to the bartender after she handed me my beer, she said, “$50 minimum on cards.” I thought, “Do you want me to come behind the bar so you can punch me in the stomach, or will you hop over it? If you could hop over it, that’d probably work better for me – I’m buzzing pretty hard and I don’t think I should be behind a bar right now, what with all that free booze and glassware and cash and all.”
You can guess how the story ends: $140 and three hours later, I’m in a cab, alone, going to Rosario’s.
The only saving grace (if you can call it that) is that the next day my roommate, who’s a “producer” for a “television show” (kinda like I’m a “writer” and “musician”), called me to tell me that Jay-Z and Damon Dash (whoever that is) were at Nocturne that night. So I can say things like, “I was at a club with Jay-Z” and be telling the truth.
[Not that I have anything against lying. I lie all the time. Constantly. Especially in relationships. Lies like, "No I didn't cheat on you - I would never cheat on you" or "I've never done any hard drugs" or "I think anal sex is gross too" or "Of course, I've never paid for sex - that's both immoral and illegal" or, well, you get it.]
And of course, I was completely freaked out. As I mentioned, I rarely, rarely go to clubs. I’ve been to about five or six clubs since 2000, and three have been in the past two weeks.
I went because it was my friend’s birthday, and I figured, “Hey – I wouldn’t do this normally, so what the fuck?” Of course, I didn’t realize the financial implications of such a decision at the time, as I had been drinking (rather expensive) wine, courtesy of my friend’s parents, for about four hours. Trust wasn’t too bad, probably because we were only there from about 10pm to 1am. But Nocturne – wow. Go-go dancers, live musicians walking around playing along to the clubby music, a weird gothic vibe – I would have hidden in the bathroom the entire time if it hadn’t been for the overly friendly attendant and the fact that it’s covered in mirrors, so you can see your bird from nine-hundred different angles. I figured that I would have one drink and gracefully make my exit, but I didn’t have any cash on me (having spent it all at Trust) so I planned to put my card on the bar. When I gave it to the bartender after she handed me my beer, she said, “$50 minimum on cards.” I thought, “Do you want me to come behind the bar so you can punch me in the stomach, or will you hop over it? If you could hop over it, that’d probably work better for me – I’m buzzing pretty hard and I don’t think I should be behind a bar right now, what with all that free booze and glassware and cash and all.”
You can guess how the story ends: $140 and three hours later, I’m in a cab, alone, going to Rosario’s.
The only saving grace (if you can call it that) is that the next day my roommate, who’s a “producer” for a “television show” (kinda like I’m a “writer” and “musician”), called me to tell me that Jay-Z and Damon Dash (whoever that is) were at Nocturne that night. So I can say things like, “I was at a club with Jay-Z” and be telling the truth.
[Not that I have anything against lying. I lie all the time. Constantly. Especially in relationships. Lies like, "No I didn't cheat on you - I would never cheat on you" or "I've never done any hard drugs" or "I think anal sex is gross too" or "Of course, I've never paid for sex - that's both immoral and illegal" or, well, you get it.]
1) You know what’s fun to do? Have you ever been at a birthday party or dinner or whatever and someone asks you to take a group picture? Next time you do this, take an especially long time after counting “1…2…3″ and before snapping the picture. It’s amazing to watch people’s faces contorted in a smile, hoping that they look their best, and it gets very, very painful if you add just a few extra seconds. Also, it’s the only time when you can be truly psychic, because you know exactly what everyone is thinking: “Just take the fucking picture already.” Trust me – do this and you’ll get a kick out of it.
2) I can not stress enough how amazing lip gloss on women is. I honestly believe that it can make any girl at least a little more attractive, and I don’t mean that in the “short skirt/high boots” kind of way. See, a year or two ago all women started wearing short skirts with high boots because they thought it automatically made them attractive, even if they were large or ugly. Unfortunately, for those large or ugly women, it didn’t make them look hot, but only like beat girls/fat chicks who happen to be wearing short skirts with high boots. But lip gloss – geez. I mean, I don’t even know what to say.
3) I saw “Starsky & Hutch” this weekend, and I have to admit that in retrospect, I was a little disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good time, but almost every funny moment of the movie has already been shown in the previews and commercials. But it did reinforce something I already knew: Will Ferrell is a genius. Everything he does is gold. I already have his “SNL’s Best of”, and I can’t wait until his “Best of 2″ comes out. I saw it on SNL (“Best of 2″) with my roommate Brian one Saturday night in the fall while we were taking drugs and drinking vodka (during our usual “it’s Saturday, so let’s starting drinking at 4pm so that we’ll be nice and drunk by the time we meet everyone out at 1am and Brian can not remember anything after 10pm and I can embarrass myself by trying to make out with one of my friends) and there was one scene at the end that made me laugh harder than I probably ever had – he’s this TV karate instructor and he punches this wooden board to break it, but instead he hurts his hand badly and spends the next four minutes jumping around and screaming “Sweet bastard!” and “What kind of wood is that?” and “I definitely just shattered my hand!” Just fucking brilliant.
2) I can not stress enough how amazing lip gloss on women is. I honestly believe that it can make any girl at least a little more attractive, and I don’t mean that in the “short skirt/high boots” kind of way. See, a year or two ago all women started wearing short skirts with high boots because they thought it automatically made them attractive, even if they were large or ugly. Unfortunately, for those large or ugly women, it didn’t make them look hot, but only like beat girls/fat chicks who happen to be wearing short skirts with high boots. But lip gloss – geez. I mean, I don’t even know what to say.
3) I saw “Starsky & Hutch” this weekend, and I have to admit that in retrospect, I was a little disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good time, but almost every funny moment of the movie has already been shown in the previews and commercials. But it did reinforce something I already knew: Will Ferrell is a genius. Everything he does is gold. I already have his “SNL’s Best of”, and I can’t wait until his “Best of 2″ comes out. I saw it on SNL (“Best of 2″) with my roommate Brian one Saturday night in the fall while we were taking drugs and drinking vodka (during our usual “it’s Saturday, so let’s starting drinking at 4pm so that we’ll be nice and drunk by the time we meet everyone out at 1am and Brian can not remember anything after 10pm and I can embarrass myself by trying to make out with one of my friends) and there was one scene at the end that made me laugh harder than I probably ever had – he’s this TV karate instructor and he punches this wooden board to break it, but instead he hurts his hand badly and spends the next four minutes jumping around and screaming “Sweet bastard!” and “What kind of wood is that?” and “I definitely just shattered my hand!” Just fucking brilliant.