things and sundry events

so two nights ago, katie left to go visit our practicallysisters' graduation party. missing her terribly, i made plans to go somewhere, so i wasn't sitting at home alone, morose and clueless (standard fare for lonelyhusbear).

i went to a lovely little venue called sweetups, for $1 48 ounce pitchers of beer, with joescott. jeffloughlin (of BEARDS! fame, holy carp), sebastian taylor (who, no less, flew in from hellay to hangz), kelly waterman and aubrey fry all came to pitch in.

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here i'll say i'm officially worried about iran.

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we decided to play poker, forcing jeff loughlin (OF BEARDS!! MY GOD) to go buy us cards inthefirst place. then we played handafterhand, betting dollar bills (AKA pitchers of beer) on good hands. fun times.

joe and i peaced out many ounces of beer later to stumble incoherently through the lonely streets of east williamsburg. we happened upon alligator lounge, which offers free large pizzas with every drink purchase, and went to sit in back. jeff and sebastian arbitrarily found us there, because in the land of drunken happenstance, random encounters are commonplace. for that, i thank you, brooklyn. we observed some of the worst kareoke i've ever witnessed (HOW CAN YOU SCREW UP AFRICA BY TOTO, GUY?). i attempted to sing "Clint Eastwood" by the Gorillaz, for my homies, but it was a reggaeton cover, so we quickly escaped to barcade (read: the bar with classic arcade videogames). joe and i walked home, put on a movie, biked to a chinese place, and laughed our individual juevos off to the rifftrax version of twilight.

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also, i'm bummed about obama's treatment of homosexual rights in our country.

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mercifully not hungover, the next day i spent time with adam (Quac) in his backyard, drinking beerz, until we rodebikes down to see frontier ruckus play at southpaw. all told, it was jeff, joe, me, sean and quac on our bikes, a veritable gang of miscreants the likes of which would make james dean blush.

at the gig, we rocked out, met up with dozens of pals, who all split up to go different directions after the amazing set. some of us went to lamesauce US, on atlantic, which was filled with dbags and ridiculous outfits.

fleeing said bummout, we rode hard down to carrolgardens, to the only bar which can perk up a nearly lost night. a delightful little rendezvous called the zombie hut, a tiki bar slash slasher flick. they offer drinks made entirely out of mango slushy, rum, and a shot of 151 in the straw. serious conversations, hilarious jokes, personal revelations, and we're all immersed in perfect good times. miss my wife.

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chemistry cannot be overrated when it comes to hanging out at a bar. good times hang on a hinge of personal relationships, personality quirks, and mixology. it's an interesting dichotomy; the wrong drink or the wrong pal will potentially ruin a great hangout. luckily, the humans occupying that space fulfilled my desires, and the drinks did flow. having katie there would have made it the perfect night. having steve mcqueen there would have meant everyone would have had to have dealt with a ridiculous dog. went home past 3 for the second night in a row (and the first time in a year or so).

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this morning(afternoon, 151 is hangover guarantee. which reminds me. being hungover is really just viral marketing for the hangover, right?), washed and ate and left to go to a Mets game, which david and shannon graciously invited me to.

arrived.

immediately astounded by the fact that the gig was sponsored by fox news AS EVIDENCED BY THE GIANT FOX NEWS BANNERS EVERYWHERE. ponchos, hats, gloves, glasses, coozies, all flashing the gang signs of the worst news establishment outside of al jazeera. hung out with conservatives who constantly made HILARIOUS comments about the correlation between tattoos and moral turbidity. watched the Mets play, with free beer and food. got a towel with I-kid-you-not-uncle-sam.

miss my wife.

daveandshannon wanted to go to a strip club (i pondered innumerable number of hilarious annecdotes that would be afforded to me, based on her pregnancy clashing with queens strippers). went back to barcade instead, and got schooled in every one of my favorite videogames by shannon martin. props.

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i'd like to talk about my feelings regarding californication. is that okay? i'll bring it up later. i promise. also, i can't stop watching rifftrax. addictions can sometimes be beneficial. keep that in mind.