It's been a very hot few days here in New York City. On Friday, Matt and I looked at some horrid apartments in Brooklyn, which made me really want to live in Manhattan. Then later that night, we put a nice dent into a bottle of Captain Morgan's and set off for Williamsburg in Brooklyn, where we hoped to meet up with James. Matt was keen on the idea of going to the bar Galapagos, solely based on the fact that the most beautiful woman we'd ever seen waitresses there. She wasn't there that evening, and the place was much less attractive for it. So after a few drinks we met up with James at Pete's Candy Store on Lorimer Street. He was with his girlfriend Rosario, and her friend Fiorelle. They're both from peru. Rosario is very tall, with very long, dark hair. Fiorelle is shortish, with tightly curled, shoulder length hair. I enjoyed talking to them. We stayed till about 4 in the morning, then took a car home.
On Saturday, Matt and Nora and I decided to take a little outing, so we went down to Coney Island. A nice day to be down there. It's actually a pennisula, but that's immaterial. Anyway, on the way down there, matt had to say that he was going to win every game we played, and wold give all the prizes to Nora. So of course I had to say, no, I'm going to win all the games, and I'm going to give all the prizes to Nora. Anyway, we got there and it was hot and sunny, and we rode a rollercoaster, played this game where you have to drop balls into different holes and they control horses in a horse race. That was kinda fun. Later in the day, I managed to win the only prize of the day playing this game. I was a bit disappointed, since I won but didn't get to pick my prize. It has to be a full house of players for that. those fucking carnies get you at every turn, I swear. Anyway, the prize they gave me was a stuffed animal duck. Upon further inspection, I discovered that it's actually a plush duck backpack. True to my word, I gave it to Nora. Mostly because I didn't want to carry it around. So she wore it on her back for a while, until it became too hot to wear a fuzzy doll on your back in 90 degree heat.
Nora spent an absurd amount of time playing this game where you drop quarters down a slot into a machine with two platforms, and you have to place them right so that the quarters will get pushed down. You only win tokens, but the game attendent let Nora redeem these tokens for quarters. I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that. That wold constitute gambling, i think. Any, we spent a long time watching Nora play this obsessively. And just when it looked like it'd be over, she'd use her last quarter and win three more. This went on for a very long time.
It started to get cloudy, and it was supposed to thunderstorm that day, but Matt really wanted to go on the giant Wonder Wheel. Nora refused, which pretty much put the kabosh on the whole thing. I took a few turns in the batting cages and embarrassed myself, then we went and rode the Cyclone. When I worked for Parks I wrote a Historical Sign about the Cyclone, but to my great disappointment, it wasn't there. Anyway, it's one of the more famous rollercoasters, so I thought we should all go ride. Nora didn't really want to, and Matt swore off the rides after the first one. But we all went ont anyway. Despite being one of the oldest rides in the country, the Cyclone still has the second steepest drop of any wooden coaster in the country. I'd forgotten how steep it was until we were 30 feet into the drop. I looked over at Nora right around then, and she was not doing well. She had this look on her face that wasn't really fear or annoyance or amusement. But it just seemed like "trouble." But after a while, she seemed to get a little better. She was very proud of herself later in the day for trying all these new things that she wouldn'ta tried before. Just reading over the entry so far, she was very upset at how she was being portrayed. "why is it always 'Nora this...' and 'Nora that...'?" she asked. So I just thought I should say that Nora was real glad we went to Coney Island, despite her initial reservations, and came through like a real trooper. Yay Nora! No really, she's afraid she comes off all whiney, when this isn't the case at all. Most of the time.Hey, here're some pictures from the day.
Matt, who for some reason decided to grow a beard. And to wear a bandana on his head. I for one thought he looked a little like Leif Garret, in his VH1 Behind the Music episode. For comparison, click hear.
Me, posing whimsically on the Riegleman Boardwalk, Coney Island. A standard "take a picture just for the sake of taking pictures because you feel like you need to take pictures" kind of pose.
Nora, pretending to really love the Duck backpack I won. The only "prize" of the day.
Nora and Matt in front of the Wonder Wheel
So despite being dead tired from the night before and the day at Coney Island, we decided we'd try to go out for a wild night on the town. Matt called his friend Lisa, who he thought I might get along with because like me, she distrusts, and even dislikes, other Asians. Of course, the fact that we might bond over this characteristic seemed impossible, based on just that characteristic. She was fine though. So we finished off that bottle of Captain Morgan's and rode the F train into the East Village.
We went to this bar on 8th street and Avenue C. I forget what it was ccalled. Verazo or something like that. There wasn't name on the place. We were there early enough to get a table, but it got packed pretty quickly. We didn't notice for a while, since we were all drinking this strong brazillian drinks, Caipirinha. I had them up at my boss from Park's house a few weeks ago. They're made from Cachaca, a white rum made from sugar-cane, a bunch of limes, sugar, and ice. It's tastes really strong, but it also tastes a lot lke honey. We had a lot, and got good and drunk. Roommate Dylan called a little later, so we went outside eventually and met up with him. Being fairly intoxicated, the plan was to go to some club, any club, and dance the night away. Not something I'm usually up for. But it seemed like a good idea at the time. We got in a cab and went down to Spring Street. Of course, the cabbie had no idea where this place was on Spring, even though Matt gave him the exact street address. So we ended up on the east side of Spring, when we really needed to be all the way west. Shortly after this realization, I really had to pee bad. So after walking for what seemed like forever, I sprinted off in front of the group. Everything was fucking closed. I almost went on the street, but was talked out of it. Eventually I found an open bar, went in, gave the bar the obligatory "what should i have?" look, then the "maybe I'll go to the bathroom first then decide" walk, relieved myself, and made a beeline for the door, and exited right behind the rest of the group. Once we got to the club, the gut said no one with sneakers would be getting in, and since Dylan was wearing sneakers, we went somewhere else. Which was fine, though I wouldn'ta minded seeing what the place was like inside, then making a fool of myself.
We walked around forever and ended up at the Wetlands. It looked like a place more suited for Boulder or Denver, from what I've heard of those towns. Anyway, i thought it kinda sucked. It reminded me too much of college. So then we went a few more places, played some pool, and got in cab for home. In the cab, dylan was telling us how sometimes he likes to play this game where you name movie names, but replace one of the words in the title with "vagina." We played this for the last few minutes of the ride, and it amused us enormously. "Indian Jones and the Vagina of Doom." "The Vagina Strikes Back." "When Harry Met Vagina." And, dabbling into plays, "the Vagina Vaginas." I thought it was a hoot. So we got home, and I crashed into bed almost immediately.
I had made plans with Rodzilla to go to the Yankees game today, though we hadn't spoken about it since Wednesday or Thursday, so I wasn't sure if we were going to go or not. But seeing as the game started at 1:05, I thought I should just assume we were going. I set my alarm for 10 AM, and Nora must have been super super drunk, because this was the first time she's ever failed to wake up to that alarm going off three times. I called Rodzilla around 11, since it'd take us at least an hour and a half for me to get to her place, then up to the Bronx, and we still had to buy tickets. Around 11:20, someone finally answered, but told me Rodzilla was there but still asleep. This annoyed me greatly, as it seemed terribly inconsiderate. So i said fuck it, and just got on the train, four-alarm headache in tow, and hoped she'd be up and about when I got to the 2nd Avenue stop in Manhattan. I called her once I got out of the tunnel, and she was up all right, but thought the game started at two. I calmly explained the situation to her, and she said she was eating breakfast and needed to shower first and I should go get a cup of coffee somewhere and she'd meet me there soon. argggh. Anyway, i remained calm, had my coffee, and didn't really start to get worked up until half an hour later when I'd finished my coffee and got through a good amount of the book I was reading. So eventually she shows up, and greets me with "Can you hurry up?" and was apologetic, so I figured I wouldn't let anything really get to me today, since it was a nice sunny day and we were going to a ballgame. And we got there right before the game started. So all was well. For a while. It was the hottest goddam day of my fucking life. i was wearing long pants, and sweating like a maniac after three minutes out in the bleachers. Rodzilla was fairly concerned, since she thought I shouldn't be out in the hot sun all hungover and whatnot. And i was pretty miserable for a while there. I still couldn't believe I'd actually gotten out of bed that morning and went all the way to the Bronx. On the way there, when Rodzilla asked me what I'd done on friday, I really couldn't even remember. That's never really happened before. It was just such a busy weekend. Anyway, i didn't have time to eat anything that morning, so my brunch this Sunday was a big hotdog, a sprite, and a huge thing of disgustin nachos covered in disgusting "beef." When Rodzilla came back with the nachos, she said "i have no idea why I got them with beef." It really looked like dogfood. I have to say, that's one of the more endearing things about her. Sometimes I'm amazed how much of the time we've spent together was spent holding are stomachs, moaning "why'd we eat that?"
Anyway, after a while the sun ducked behind some clouds, and every now and then a breeze showed up, and the game became a lot more enjoyable. I did fairly well that day with the ballpark games, answering every trivia question right, and I was glad to see the Yanks lose. They played stupidly, hitting the Angel's leadoff batter in the 6th in retaliation for Derek Jeter getting beaned the previous inning. I doubt the Angels' pitcher meant to hit him, since it was a tie game at that point I think. Anyway, the hit Angel eventually scored, and the Angels went on to win 4-3. I hate them Yanks, though I guess I was rooting for the home team, if for no other reason than to join the comraderie of the alcohol-free section of the the bleachers.By the way, here's a little fun-fact about Rodzilla: She doesn't sweat. I don't mean she keeps her composure under stressful situations, which I guess she does. I mean she literally does not sweat. It's bizarre, and a little scary. We'd talked about it several times in the past. She usually just gets overheated and red. But yesterday, while I was a sweaty, swampy mess, she was cool as a cucumber. it made me feel like I was really unhealthy or something. Check out these pictures:
Here's sweaty me, two seconds after wiping my face dry.
And here's Rodzilla, dry as a bone, and laughing about it.
She wasn't ever red like she normally gets. What an odd girl. Anyway, here's another picture we had one of the ushers take.
And that was about all the excitement for the day. I spent the rest of the afternoon at Kinkos, trying to put my career- and life- together.
