I wish I had something tantalizing and exciting to talk about tonight and while the last few days haven’t exactly been uneventful, I’m not feeling particularly inspired tonight. Maybe I’ll just give you a midweek recap. I suppose that will quench your thirst for my exploits.
Tuesday afternoon after a trip to the gym and a hearty job search I sauntered off to bask in the sun that beat down on Washington Square Park and the vast majority of the New York Metropolitan area. My aim was to finish reading Sarah Vowell’s Assassination Vacation, as I only had about 20 pages left. I figured I’d probably be back inside in a half hour or so. Halfway through my second page, the phone rang. It was my old AP Damien from my PA days on VH1’s Top 20 Video Countdown with Aamer Haleem. He asked if I wanted to grab a drink. You know me; I have a hard time turning down a drink due to my incumbent alcoholism. Damien suggested we meet at Hop Devil on St. Marks and A only upon my arrival said establishment was closed. We settled on grabbing drinks at Bua just up the block and lucky for us it was happy hour and they had Boddington’s Pub ale. Happy hour and Boddington’s…a winning combination. Anyway, Damien and I caught up and talked about work. Apparently Damien has his own company and hopefully that company will be able to employ me at some point, as employment is much needed. He also is working on plenty of interesting projects and even has an art gallery. While I’ve been wasting away he’s been exploring many facets. I should take a lesson from that. Damien’s friend Zach soon joined us. He had just broken up with his girlfriend, gotten into a fist-fight the previous night, and was having a breakdown. On the stoop next to us, there were a couple of dudes collecting money for a beer fund. They kept trying to get girls attention by asking if they were “America’s Next Top Model”. It was really juvenile but actually kind of funny after awhile. Damien gave them some money for cigarettes. Happy hour lasted for about 3 beers, this is to say probably two hours give or take.
Walking home with a grin ear to ear from my buzz, I decided to get some Chinese Mexican food. As I entered my favorite Chexican establishment I rummaged through my cargo shorts for my wallet only to realize it wasn’t in the multiple front pockets where my wallet is always stashed in during the summer months. These pockets are seemingly completely secure but my wallet was somehow absent. I felt completely panicked and wondered where my wallet could be. It was then I remembered my wallet falling out of my hip pockets once before and came to the conclusion that this must have happened again while I was walking. In my state of pleasant buzz instead of putting the wallet in a secure front pocket I must have placed it in a shallow hip pocket. There’s no feeling quite as helpless as realizing you don’t have your money, credit cards, ATM Card,, and identification. I stood outside of the Chexican restaurant completely dumbfounded. How could I have let this happen? Then just as I was about to dejectedly walk home the guy that always knows what I’m going to order in the restaurant asked, “Why are you leaving”? I explained to him my predicament and he told me not to worry, I could pay for it next time. Like Blanche Dubois, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers, but this seemed ridiculous. I was extremely grateful. As I strolled back into the restaurant and readied to order my meal I reached my thumbs into my back pocket and felt a trace of leather against my thumb. Encouraged by the brush of material against my finger I plunged my entire hand into my back pocket to discover the triumphant return of my beloved mess of a wallet. Hallelujah! I was able to pay for my meal and the rest of my evening’s activities. What a sudden turn of events! I know what you’re thinking, “Why didn’t you just check there in the first place?” The answer to that query is, because I never ever put my wallet in my back pocket. The Boddington’s apparently killed some brain cells and changed my monetary storage habits.
My Black Bean Enchilada from my favorite Chexican joint was quite delicious but I didn’t take the time to savor it as I had to head to Village Tavern for Jill M’s 26th birthday celebration. I think I got there at 7:30 and spent a couple of hours of drinking beer, playing pool and having general good times with Kristin, Jill, David, Bill, Justin, Ana, Ghazalle, and some other folks. At one point the only people left were myself, Jill, David, and Kristin. We ended up the night by getting some McDonald’s and one more beer at the Fat Black Pussycat. Oh yeah, and I forgot, Jill whom I have known for the past 2 years as a brunette was as blonde as blonde coujld be. That was slightly shocking but I’m sure I’ll get used to it even if I do walk by her the next couple of times we meet up to hang out.
The next morning I woke up surprisingly not hung over at all. I guess the minimal consumption of McDonald’s worked wonders. After showering off the remaining toxins I headed down to TPAC on Chambers Street to volunteer at the Tribeca Film Festival. I had been assigned to work on a panel about the new film Flight 93 and generally about Art after 9/11. I really don’t have feelings good or bad on the panel. I haven’t seen the film they were talking about so I really had no frame of reference as to what was being talked about the majority of the time. I got out of my volunteer gig at 2:45 and headed home to catch the Met game which was a torturous seesaw of a game that ultimately resulted in a Mets victory but a StatTracker ™ debacle. I left before the game ended to catch a free surprise film offered to film festival volunteers. The movie itself was held at what I think was Robert DeNiro’s private screening room. I got to the venue at 7:30 and made friends with some volunteers prior to the screening. The surprise film ended up being a foreign film called Brasilia. Guess what, it was from Brazil. Anyway, I could give it a full review but overall I didn’t find it to be that enthralling. It wasn’t awful, I just don’t think it will go down in the annals of time as a special picture. I could be wrong but I also could be right. At least it wasn’t too long to keep me from catching an all new South Park.
This morning I awoke to see another beautiful day. The sun was shining and I was still jobless, making it somewhat less beautiful. However, I still perused the job sites and kept at it. Then I moved the action to the gym where I had quite the three for Thursday block of videos on the Elliptical Machine Screen. First up was, The Clash “Rock The Casbah” which is always a crowd pleaser. As I prepared to remove my headphones from the jack to go back to my Ipod, Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated” came on and I had to give in to the guilty pleasure. I really hate to admit it but it’s a catchy song and I really miss punk posing Avril. When this classy, womanly image came out with her sophomore effort, I was not feeling it. Furthermore, I decided that “Complicated” could be a future karaoke number. After that was Paula Abdul’s “Opposites Attract” which is a karaoke favorite of mine, but I hadn’t seen the video quite some time and I started openly chortling as I continued to labor on my elliptical machine, probably arousing suspicion of those around me. After my return from the gym I went back to Washington Square Park and attempted to read the post but some crazy guy was throwing stuff violently around the fountain. After awhile this and the fact that the clouds had overtaken the sun forced me back in. That’s really all she wrote for the rest of the day. I ate Chinese food for dinner and watched Wayne’s World On demand. Now I’m typing this and now I’m done.