Swankified

I gave in and re-wrote this entire post. I may have forgotten some crucial deets.

Last night I was at this:

Because Lisa met a head honcho at IMG on the Subway and sent her a formal invitation. So I headed to Macy's to buy a floor-length orange number, as if I even need an excuse to go shopping. As it was the hottest day of the year, we hopped in a cab hoping for some AC. No luck. Even cars know the heat is too much to consider battling. The sun has a championship belt that it won't ever give up.

We arrived. We were on the guest list. We made our way downstairs to find ourselves in an underground, exclusive ping pong club. The place was serious. A championship match was going on, and we were surrounded by champions/hopeful young businessmen/models/loaded old men. Considering I was evicted yesterday (tune in to next blogpost), I felt entitled to a few cosmos. STRONG cosmos.

Then I ate a vegan sandwich next to Judah Friedlander.

I had encounters with the following people:

- Three old men whose profession was "trading"

- A British man who bought me a tequila shot

- A very old man in green pants who seemed very influential and gave me his card:

- A modeling photographer who I vaguely remember speaking French to:

- A HOT HOT HOT woman in a leather dress who I saw hours before on Fifth Avenue. Dream girl.

- A model in the bathroom who complimented my dress

- A cameraman who interviewed me. I couldn't tell you what I said.

- A sick DJ who wants to come to the MIA show with me in a couple weeks

- A guy who was alternately dressed as a hot dog, a sumo wrestler, a chicken, and things I got too drunk to recognize:

Then we left to go to a rooftop party. I guess I decided not to go because I remember:

- Being alone in Manhattan wearing an evening gown

- Trying to buy a Subway pass with pennies, the only real money I brought with me. Also I left my unlimited pass on my bed.

- Taking a cab to a bar in Brooklyn

- Eating cheese puffs there

- Falling asleep there

...

I woke up this morning at a friend's place still wearing my dress, contacts and earrings intact. I then took my THIRD cab in a 24-hour period to make it home to change for work. As I hailed a taxi, I was sporting gold heels, basketball shorts and a JMU hoodie. Looking fly, if I do say so myself. I got back to the apartment to find gays and girls littered on the kitchen floor, sleeping like little young adult angels. I made it to work with alcohol in my veins, water in my hand, and two minutes to spare.

Feast Your Eyes on This

The moves. The Jews. The solid gold.

Get Me To My Air Mattress

I think I might be dying.
And I blame Miley Cyrus.

My best friend, who shall not be named, and I made a pact. A sacred pact requiring us to do a bar crawl from Brooklyn to Central Park last night to try to make it to the Miley Cyrus concert at 7 AM, McDonald's and 4 Loco in hand.
Now I shall relay to you this very unsuccessful story.

My evening began at a bar at 8 PM. Possibly too early to start a bar crawl that won't end for 12 hours, but HEY. I have to keep a steady buzz going. After a few beers and riveting basketball game that is too controversial to mention at this time, I met the rest of my crew to begin the crawl. I was then harassed by one Amir Cohen about my bar crawl planning, which was basically a general outline of which subway lines to take. APPARENTLY, the correct term for this is a "bar hop" and for a "bar crawl" you need to have at least 30 people in your posse and the bars you go to should know you're coming and have drinks waiting for you. As a Harrisonburger, I find this very unrealistic. But I'm in New York now, and I need to raise my standards of drinking.

Soon thereafter, Cohen ditched the mission proving that his party knowledge and commitment is insufficient.

And then there were 4. It's taking me a long time to write this post because I'm still drunk and definitely cross-eyed. The 4 of us downed some brewskies and then took the subway to Manhattan. We didn't even bother getting off at multiple stops to go to different bars because we were lazy and still trying to convince ourselves that this would be fun.
We lost some brethren along the way. Unexpectedly, one of us did not get on the Subway car. With no explanation. Whatever happened to good old following through? When I agree to drink, I don't half-ass. And I don't sneak away in underground transit. Because I get lost when I'm sober (high school superlative: Most Likely to Get Lost on a Road Trip. Yeah...no shame?).

The 3 of us exited the Subway to find a barren wasteland. No bars, no people, no lights. Pitch black sober misery. Thanks to Google maps, we did find one bar 4 blocks away that would be open for the next hour, since it was already 3 AM (How did that happen? We only went to one bar before this...). We were the only people there, and a man named Sean/Shawn served us up. I tipped him $1, but he didn't take it. That dollar is probably still sitting there.
Then an old man walked in, seeming to be a regular because he just word-vomited "Hitme" to Sean/Shawn, who got him something red. It must have been strong, because he couldn't even finish it.

This old man was drunk, deranged, and exactly 66 years old. He openly greeted Tracey and I, but ignored our male counterpart Davey. Only old men in jail could possibly be interested in a young man in the presence of the two hottest girls on Earth (...Me and Tra).
Here are some key phrases from this man:
- "You're 20? Ya know, I was drunk and stoned until I was 20. Then I got married. That sucked."
- "Hey Sean/Shawn...Did you know you have a small ass?"
- "You work for the radio? You're a working girl? How'd you do that?"
- "I have a small dog. I just walked it for 15 minutes. I was here before then, and now I'm back."
- "Did I tell you that I have a little dog? I walked him today for an hour."
- "I got 5 grandkids. They'll probably get me a fuckin card and some cigarettes for father's day."
- "Always remember to air out your vagina. This is very important! You know it is!"
And that's when we decided to leave. Thanks for the advice, old man.

Now that all bars were closed, it was time to find food. A 24 hour diner presented itself to us, and we feasted on pancakes, cheesy eggs, homefries, regular fries, lox&cream on a bagel, sausage egg and cheese sandwiches and other delicious noms. By then, it was 5 AM. We needed to get in line for the concert at 5:30. We were 3 blocks away from our ultimate destination. It was around this time that we started to fall asleep and decided that instead of just keeping up our fantastic mission until 7 am, we would go home and get useless 45 minute naps before work.

In conclusion, I missed Miley Cyrus. You make me Smiley Cyrus. Because you are a bogus whore.
Despite traveling an hour back to my bed, I still did not sleep for nearly an acceptable time increment.
I was late for work because I took the wrong Subway and was only wearing one contact.
At least I had already eaten breakfast?
I'm having a party tonight. I can't wait until tomorrow when I am finally allowed to sleep.
I don't regret this failure of an evening.

I'm too hungover to know if this is coherent, let alone funny.

My Life is Like Woah

I had another "this is my destiny" night. It was Friday.

For those of you who didn't hear the hearsay, my first "this is my destiny" night was two weeks ago when I found myself drinking something called Death Punch out of an Igloo cooler at a dance party at a loft in SoHo surrounded by tubs of gummy bears. Also, I dropped my wallet but someone returned it to me. A risky evening, I dare say.

So, I went out with my bitches who are really nice. We met in Astoria to get drunk and see where the wind took us. We decided to eat first, at a place called "Oasis" or "Trance" or some other nonsensical trendy name that implies remix dance music as ambience. I ordered a dry martini, while they got pina coladas. We're all 20. Our drinks are served, and the waitress asks if we are 18...the legal drinking age. Fresh off the boat for the win. FOB FTW. I offered to show her my high school diploma as proof, but she said that wasn't necessary.

My martini was straight liquor. I used the olives and my antibiotics as chasers. Don't worry Mom & Dad, I'm just mixing drugs and alcohol.

Our massive bowls of mediocre pasta arrived. I ate as much as I possibly could. Due to the sketch warehouse situation, saving the rest for later would have been a death wish. The leftover portion could have easily been reserved to an unsuspecting customer, so they assumed that I didn't like the meal.

Therefore, they gave me everything for free. Easily the best bar in town.

Next we traveled across the street searching for sweets. We found a massive Greek bakery, also serving as a bar. There I drunkenly ordered a chocolate mousse. Shaped like a chocolate mouse.

Then we almost caught the table on fire due to a napkin + candle experiment. Just say no, kids!

We left cash and peaced before the flame was under control.

Destiny then brought us to a gallery opening and wine tasting. Delicious.

Next stop was the World Yacht Club. As I read that sentence aloud in my head, it sounds fake. Lisa, posse member, had to hand out fliers to drunk people here as her "job". I plan to be employed there soon. After passing the most epic bowling alley in America, we hit the subway to head to beds. There, our lives were changed by The Meetles.

The Meetles:

A Beatles tribute band consisting of some old white guys, what appeared to be my old GirlScout troop leader, a man with a hat and a tambourine, and two token Asians (one was hidden in the back).

They were incredible. Seriously, I would hire them for a party in a heartbeat. On-point harmonies brought to you by the ragamuffins of adulthood. Even better, their biggest fan was there. A homeless man. He stood in front of their money basket and rained $1 bills into it. I think he gave them at least $20 in ones, and then recruited others to join in. Hidden Asian helped collect money with an Elmo puppet.

Truly, the only problem with The Meetles was that they didn't spell their name like "meat".

I bring them to you via YouTube.

Win-Lose Situation

sketch warehouse update.

there is now a shower curtain.

and the goth roomies found the pair of underwear i drunkenly hid under the dining room table that i forgot about until i saw it on the floor in front of my door.

two more days.

The Gugg

today i went to the museum mile festival in manhattan. my favorite part was definitely the guggenheim museum, featured on a recent episode of ugly betty. this has nothing to do with stories or humor, but the artwork was breathtaking.

things i saw:

- a father and son. the son was hot. ...then they started making out.

- a juggler mess up over and over again.

- an old lady with green hair.

- the most horrific clown show, brought to you by silly billy. his "trick" was to put horrifying masks on young children. see his next show in my nightmares.

- approximately 19 asian babies.

things i heard:

- a cranky jewish man making bold and completely false claims about me being in the restroom for 8 minutes.

- someone making fun of my extremely outdated phone. which is the droid. it came out less than a year ago.

- approximately 19 asian babies.

things that saw and heard me:

- 50,000 people at the aforementioned festival. that's definitely an exaggeration, but i made myself pretty obvious. tourists took pictures of me! so if you're one of those tourists, welcome to biddiewatch. comment and let me know you're here!

up next is the day of the wolf shirt, and my racist britney spears rant! stay tuned.

Extra Extra

update on the sketch warehouse living situation: the shower is now broken. everything that ever went down the drain has been regurgitated onto the bathroom floor, like the hairballs of a thousand cats. for once in my life, i feel gross enough to shower. in case you did not know, i hate showering.

i have thrice successfully stolen the fan from the living room, to no apparent complaint.

today i was told by a black man that i have a big/phat/fat ass. he literally asked if he could keep his bike in my "trunk" and come along for the ride.

when i grow old and would-be-grey-if-it-weren't-for-bleach, i aspire to flaunt what i got. this woman reminded me.

in other news, my blog personality is now featured on comicalradio.com! today was my first post, entitled "drinking, degenerates, and david kasten's musical debut", which is the name of the podcast as well. download or subscribe to the podcast if you like to party. you can also check out how good i look every friday when the show is ustreamed live to our website. today, the world saw my horse shirt. next week is the wolf shirt so don't miss it!!!

Moving On Up

hi. i'm in new york. i have two internships and the sun beats down on you like an abusive father.

i am living with strangers. let me tell you a little bit about it.

the apartment is in a converted warehouse.

there are two cats and one dog.

my 3 roommates are goth. all of their clothes are made up shredded black fabric and the rest of their bodies are covered in tattoos. there are empty boxes everywhere, and there is no trash can. only a trash bag on the floor, which the dog eats out of.

also there is no microwave.

also there is no air conditioning.

my room is decorated in skulls. there is a holographic photo of dr. jekyll/mr. hyde. there is not a window, but there is a wall made of glass bricks with a tiny hole in the top. the only movie is donnie darko. i'm very afraid to open the drawers.

i'm positive that if i looked long enough, i would find cocaine.

good news is that the fridge is completely stocked! full of expired food. it reminds me of when my roommate brittany forgets to put saran wrap on leftovers. except that is the case with every item.

but the cat food is organic. really, people, buy food for yourself and not your cat! see prior entry about walmart cat lady.

there is no hand soap in the bathroom. i bought some from duane reed today. they will think the soap fairies came.

all of the roommates have died their hair black, and is shaved off in different places. by the way, i found this place on craigslist and one of the benefits was that i could get a free haircut.

i am a little tired of long hair, but...

when you set foot in my room, a little cloud of dust puffs up.

i wear flip flops in the shower. ah, dorm days...

there is a baby doll with no eyes on a shelf in the living room.

other than that, it's not bad. i'm a little anxious about the first time i have to get into the warehouse fortress while intoxicated. they gave me seven keys, and most of them don't work. there are 8 locks, some of which are irrelevant. i approximate this adventure will transpire within 48 hours.

pictures coming soon!