I felt like I lost a day yesterday. Tuesday 14^th April 2009 will go into the bank of lost moments – to be stored with the rest of the drunken moments I have repressed. I strongly doubt that the second before you die that your life flashes before your eyes. I do however believe there’s a possibility that all those drunken horrors that you forgotten are shown to you though.

I got in from the “date” at am – pretty smashed. Up for 6am – yeah I was still wasted.

Just to clarify, I don’t actually want to waste any of my blog space on covering the date – I’ll give you the basics, but this guy really can fuck off.

I’d wound myself up all Monday – he was gorgeous and my usual type (yes, alarm bells should have been ringing) but in true spirit they weren’t, I was blinded by my own fantasy world.

I met Ellington in Byrant Park and we worked our way down to the LES for $1.75 PDR’s at Welcome to the Johnsons. By 7pm I was trashed. I felt so ugly next to this fit, yet very arrogant American boy, I’d drank to boost my confidence.

In a nutshell – Ellington lives in the Bronx, throws parties for a living and mummy and daddy live in Long Island and work in TV. He is a rich American boy who’s bright but dropped out of his Uni. course (American’s can’t get there head around the word Uni.) to work in Urban Outfitters and throw raves.

 We went to a cool bar – the Crocodile, where a pizza is served with every drink you buy. There I met his friend – I want to say his name is Chris… but I cant stress enough how drunk I was. Chris (?) served in the Iraq War for the American Army – who have recently placed him in Manhattan in a posh flat and pays him to befriend young boys and get them to join the army in a ploy of “Look at the nice clothes, swish apartment I have. You could have it too – come to Iraq and help look for weapons that don’t exist. We can kill thousands of innocent people along the way”. Ok perhaps the last bit isn’t exactly their marketing campaign – but the first bit is true. Been in my drunken splendor I had to ask “Do you agree with sending troops to Iraq?” to which he “umm’d and arrr’d” about whether to answer this drunk girls interrogating question. He eventually said “Yes I do.” – I wisely (so proud of drunken me) left the conversation there: “Ok, I respect your opinion but I don’t think we should talk about this since I really don’t agree with you”.

We ended our night in 230 on 5^th with my mastercard – oopps! The highlight of the whole night was sitting next to Owen Wilson – giggling like school girls and “making out”.

The reason why I didn’t want to grace this blog with Ellington is: he was the most arrogant boy EVER. I’m sure we spoke about how good looking he is for a good 30 minutes. This was emphasized by the fact he’d deleted me on Facebook on Tuesday night.

I could bitch about this and mull over it for pages (like I have done in my mind all day) but I’m not going to. I have deleted his number (and all texts) so I have no record of his number. I will however learn the following:

• Never go drinking on a first date – one drink is never one and a case of verbal diarrhea is always sure to follow
• Never think someone is better then me based on looks – Ok, this should be something I know since I am 23 and not 13, but move to another country and all you have learned in your years of dating is lost.
• Never go on a date with a guy that pretty much share a name with a rubber boot.

Last night I slept for 12 hours. I felt like a new born baby this morning. The weather as usual took its toll on me – if it had been sunny I would have walked to work forgetting my hate for the world. But no, it was cold and wet so I started the day in a foul mood. I then collected my mail from the Mountbatten office – a letter from Shay with photo’ of Ellis. He is growing fast now. I can’t believe it’s only been a month and he’s got a little Mohawk and visible teetch. It made me cry – I was really happy to see my little boy growing and my sister beaming with pride, but I was pissed off. I was missing out on all the good stuff in Ellis’s life – first chocolate, giggles and cuddles. Everything I needed today.

 My mood was finally broken by Stephen. Back in the UK but he spent the afternoon talking to me online, sending silly pictures, videos and my next choice of animal tshirt – the pigeon. I will look forward to cartons of Marlboro Lights and English Marie Claire when he returns to American soil.

Chilling out at Johnson's

So Fabrice came to New York and left and it went very well thank you. And now Alexandre is coming. Which was discussed at length when Fabrice was in town. See, Alexandre is a different animal. To my greatest despair, Alexandre doesn’t eat. Or worse yet, eating is only a purely physical need in his mind. Also, he doesn’t read blog. That’s a principle (I was shocked to learn this from Fabrice and need an explanation on this one).

Don’t get me wrong, Alexandre is a very dear friend of mine. And also of Florent & Fabrice. Hence I feel safe to say that us three were the ideal combination to design the perfect four-day stay for Alexandre in New York (and it’d better be, perfect, as it took us 2 whole years and a lot of gentle reminder on my part and pushy harassment on Florent’s part to convince him).

Eating yummy smoked beef sandwiches @ Char

Now that you know what Alexandre dislikes, let’s go over what alex likes:

• Beer. Cheap.
• Happy Hour. Because it usually is synonymous to cheap beer;
• Rockn’roll r&n b and rap, un peu;
• Hype. But not in an obvious way. More in the “discover the hype before anyone else does” kind of way. Think  Williamsburg meets Cobble Hill and they have a drink on the Gowanus Canal.
• Habits. He likes to go to the same places and get to know the owners.
• Night. Alex doesn’t really understands why God created days. He thought he should have gone for nights all along.

Sweet Cocktails @ Clover Club

So I guess you have a better picture now. Here is the dilemma: find cheap beer spots varied enough to give Alexandre a good selection of Brooklyn/Lower Manhattan sweet spots AND make him to come back and see us again.

We will start by the Gate if the sun is shining. This way he ‘ll get an idea of park slope’s real values. Hopefully there won’t be too many kids. We/I Might eat a burger at Bonnie’s Grill (I’ll escape the Gate if I have to). For after dinner (or rather post-apero, pre-cocktail hours) we’ll try Brooklyn Social. Nice cocktails. And, if the bartender is nicer than last time, Alex might even be able to listen to the wonderful juke box selection he will have put together.

On Friday, we will be heading to Barette to fulfill Alex’s needs of a Happy Hour (2 pints for the price of one ($ 5to6) from 4 to 7pm). I know, we’ll need to get there early – Lovely terrace, lovely Prospect Heights crowd. And then we’ll move two blocks down to Soda.

Alex will drink $1 wisky shots @ char 4, while I try again their lamb sausage. Very nice. Clover Club will be our late

Drinking $1 whisky shots @ Char 4

night hang out. Very nice cocktails, but @ $10-15 each, we might have to put Alex to bed before then.

Then, we have a very special plan for the week-end. We will HAVE to venture to the LES and try Welcome to the Johnson’s. $1.75 a beer & nice juke box. What else can you ask for? Also, they tend to attract a lot of cute 20-something arts students who are a real pleasure for my aging eyes. Very refreshing. And perfect for Alex’s hungry eyes. At some point we will have to check out BKLYN YARD and see what’s happening (although we may have to bring our own beers). Dancing in silence with your headphones by the somewhat rusty & smelly Gowanus Canal. It doesn’t get any cooler.

(all photos courtesy of Fabrice – Merci Fabrice)

Ok – I’m had the most rollercoaster weekend, up and down like I don’t know what. Maybe a yoyo. On Friday I left work to meet Vaani (she only works a couple of blocks away on 34th and Madison). As I walked around my block there was a feeling of chaos – police taping off the road, loads and loads of firemen (they were actually stupidly sexy! Yay), ambulances and helicopters in the sky. Being my usual nosey self I thought I would have a poke around to see what had happened. As I stood and watched the chaos van upon van of news reporters turned up, cameras flashing and broadcast ariels erected on the street. I didn’t see anything – just was told there had been a traffic accident. I could see a van crashed into the wall though – just by the side entrance to my building!! This morning the Fed Ex lady told me what had happened:

http://nydailynews.com/nylocal/2009/03/27/2009-03-27_van_crashes_in_midtown_kills_pregnant_wo.html

Turns out she works just up the block a little and my Feb Ex lady delivered to her every morning. Really sad. It was strange on Friday – it felt just like when something happens in an American movie/TV program – like its not real and I’m just part of the set.

Like planned Ciara, Vaani and I went to explore Hoboken. And what a boring exploration that was. Don’t get me wrong – Hoboken is nice. Its clean, the shops and bars are cute but there’s no atmosphere. It reminded me of a VERY American version of Woolton or Allerton – quaint and quiet. All three of us were hampering for male attention – but I’ve learnt – hot boys DO NOT live in Hoboken. Just Jocks and fatties. We went to Greenrock Bar and Grill as it had look quite cool the week before when I went to Hoboken with Roddy, note to all:  never go there on a Friday. Full of horrible men and airhead American women playing “Fallout Boy” (weirdest combination).

After work we were all tired and in desperate need of food. Just like me – I learnt that Ciara and Vaani are also people that get cranky when they haven’t eaten. I stupidly took them to the wrong address, trying to find the Goldhawk and a weird crank atmosphere hung over us. Eeeek. I felt horrible and all I could think of was I wish I was spending my Friday night with Claire and Carly – my girlies that were familiar, that would laugh my silly ways off and love me anyway! We settled on eating in Liberty Grill – a nice enough place, nothing special. I had passed my hunger point and really just need 5 minutes with a Marlboro light. I went outside and had a NEED to call Claire, however my stupid cell has no English numbers in it. I remembered that I had Chris’s business card on me (Yay! Someone from home to call!) Was great to hear his Manc drawl ha ha! He was at Simon’s playing poker. I wanted to be at Simon’s playing poker

We eventually found the Goldhawk. Margaritas were good but the crowd boring. Ciara wanted to go home but Vaani and I decided to head into town (ha! Love how I call Manhattan – “Town” now).

We met Jack, Craig, Roddy and Chris at Welcome to the Johnsons, a dive bar on the Lower East Side. The place was seriously cool, extremely shabby round the edges (think the Barfly) but full of trendy people. We sat round the pool table at the back drinking PDR (the most minging beer you’ll ever taste – but only $2 a can). I’ve actually started drinking lager over here – its just cheaper! I drunkenly tried to chat up the fittest man I’d seen since arriving (seriously – Catherine and Carly, you would both appreciate this guy – dark hair, beard, cool hat and a retro tiger t-shirt – sweet!), however no such luck. Don’t blame him I wouldn’t have wanted to pull drunk me either! This plus the feelings of missing home sent me into pretty much a downhill spiral – mardy Laura came out to play, went quiet and hurled some abuse at Roddy and Jack. Not good. I started crying on the PATH on the way home to Vaani, just basically about how much I missed my stability and also people who liked doing what I enjoy. All the hidden feelings of missing home came out in one big sobbing mess.

Needless to say I felt like a twat in the morning. I called Roddy and Jack to apologize and as they are such great people and amazing friends they just laughed at me and joked about me being a crank. I was feeling stupid though – I had cried on Vaani and being horrible to the best two male mates here. IDIOT. To top it off, I had the freakiest dreams since arriving. All my family were there and Ellis had grown into this cool hip teenager – I had missed him growing up. I’d cried throughout my sleep and woke feeling exhausted and un-rested. Mum called and I tried to keep a brave face on (I didn’t want her worrying) but as I recalled my exhausting dream I choked and broke into yet more tears.

The girlies and I headed to Brooklyn for brunch. The day was beautiful – warm and sunny. Ciara and Tara had to dash off to meet a girl who had Ciara’s watch – antics at a party after Mansion the week previous. Em had been out partying late and was still in bed so this left Vaani, Emma Low (we have lots of Emmas) to have brunch. I was no longer upset but I felt quiet, not my usual happy self and this put me on edge. I just needed some alone time to screw my head back on. After all I never get time by myself here – we even share rooms, so I don’t even sleep by myself (something Em is hating because it turns out I’m the worst snorer when I’ve been drinking! Eeeek). I made my excuses and went for some Laura time by myself.

I headed back to Manhattan after wandering Brooklyn for a while, iPod blaring and sunglasses on I went exploring Alphabet City before making a purchase in American Apparel. Roddy was in town with some of the boys (Chris, Amit and Lee) so I made my way up to Central Park. Roddy, Amit and Lee really wanted to go ice skating so Chris and I played the coat holders and watched.

I really like watching people ice-skate, it’s like live “You’ve Been Framed” with no fat Lisa Riley presenting. One guy had me in stitches! He was ice skating’s answer to Napoleon Dynamite. He looked the spit of Pedro however his moves were those exactly of Napoleon’s high school dance – gyrating his way through “Hit Me Baby” by Britney. Class!

When I eventually got home Em and Vaani were ready to go out and head to someone’s house party. Ciara, Tara and I eventually joined them – just as security guards were kicking out the house party. Ciara had organized us to go to Circus with the promoters she has met the week previously. Circus is at Webster Hall – a massive old theatre that is used for gigs and club nights. I can safely say I had the most amazing night – free entry, VIP table, free drinks, circus acts – trapeze artists, a man in a giant balloon and shit loads of midgets in leotards. AMAZING. It was exactly what I needed to cheer myself up – lots of dancing with my new girl mates.

After my up and down weekend – Sunday was my first lazy day arriving. I did nothing and didn’t spend a penny (but ate the contents of my fridge!), watched loads of BBC America – catching up with my good old friend Gordon Ramsey.

Tonight I have a class in Art History. Cannot wait, I hate the fact that I’m only having one! I need to take some classes whilst over here!

I’ve spent my lunch hour trying to sort out a problem with my bank (already). When opening your bank here – you have to keep a certain amount in the account for a whole month. As I’ve opened a gold account – the amount is $500. Last week I paid in $550 – the money to keep in my account and a little for extra spends. On Saturday – I went to my bank account; only $450 had been paid in! Luckily I have my receipts from paying the money in but now an inquiry has to be launch into it so I am skint at the moment. Looks like I’ll have to have a low budget week.

123 Rivington St., Lower East Side, NYC

So Welcome to the Johnsons is a dive bar with a 1970’s basement theme, wood panels, pool table, old tv playing old shows, dark, dingy, couches with plastic covers, PBR, and one of those amazing video games that is also a table (which I have unfortunately never gotten to sit at). It definitely has a quirky feel, but at the same time it isn’t pretentious and just about anyone can be found in this place(very eclectic crowd probably drawn by the theme and cheap booze). I hadn’t been in a while , but we started what turned out to be a really late night there on Friday.

Happy Hour is from 3-9pm and well drinks are $2 and PBR $1.50 (some of the cheapest in the city). We got there significantly later than happy hour, and drinks were still reasonable ($2 PBR and $4-6 liquor drinks). The bartenders from my experience are attentive and quick.

So the music is a mix of everything over the bast 30 or 40 years, ranging from totally awesome (Built to Spill, Pixies, Dead Kennedys, and even some classic rock and ’80’s) to questionable (really bad 90’s rock ala Goo Goo Dolls or some shit like that, Rancid, and you name it it gets played). It’s a mixed bag, but suits the bar pretty well.

While this place gets really crowded but our significantly large group was able to carve out a comfortable portion of space. I can’t say that this is the type of place to go by yourself, or on a date, or anything short of getting really drunk (whether you are starting or ending the night)….but it is a good place to get cheap drinks with a bunch of friends. By the time we left (almost 2am, we started pretty late) it was hard to get from the front of the bar to the back. But still not to hard to get a drink. I can’t say it is my favorite bar, but it does serve a purpose…and it tends to be fun if you go with enough friends. And it is also a neat place to take people who are visiting the city from out of town.

welcome to the johnsons front window by AugustHeffner <via flickr>

plastic couches inside by Yorkshire4 <via flickr>

(Tom)

Arthur Nersesian. Photo Credit: David Shankbone

Location: Lower East Side, NYC
Artist: Arthur Nersesian
Venue: Bluestockings
Food: Paladar
Drink: Welcome to the Johnsons
Accessory: Economy Candy

From the author who brought you The Fuck Up, Arthur Nersesian’s newest novel, The Swing Voter of Staten Island, combines sci-fi with Orwellian dystopia in New York, sort of, which will make for an excellent reading. Paladar, whose celebrity chef, Aarón Sanchez is from the Food Network show “Melting Pot,” delivers a Pan-Latino concept taking traditional Spanish fare and adding deliciously executed gourmet twists. Feeling retro? Then Welcome to the Johnsons is the place for you. It’s like being in your uncles wreck room from the 70s. With all wood paneled walls, plastic covered couches, and a Pac Man machine, this bar is out for a good time. Stop by Economy Candy and get a small taste of what it might be like to walk through Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, minus the hijinks, as there’s all sorts of candy everywhere. A real NY landmark, it’s been around since 1937.

In order to avoid misunderstandings among friends, I recently went back to Royale to perform some scientific inquiry on its ass. In a previous post, I had professed its awesomeness – with due qualifications – and was brutally shut down. Admittedly, I had visited the bar on the worst possible time to go out in New York, Saturday night. This time, I went to Happy Hour – the best light in which to see a drinking establishment – with the express purpose of collecting numerical data, which I would like to share with you.

The basic assertion that I am challenging is that Welcome to the Johnson’s has the best Happy Hour in the five boroughs of New York City. On a ten point scale, I hearby prove that Royale is a strong contender, if not the unquestionable winner. Please find definitions and measurements below the chart.

DP: Drink Price
As a percentage of hourly pay

DFW: Distance from Work
As a percentage of an hour

C: Crowdedness
As a percentage of the total seats filled in the bar

S: Smell
As a percentage of stink molecules in the air

MV: Music volume
100% = the volume of regular human conversation

AoB: Adorableness of Bartender
As a percentage of ooogie-smoogie-boogums

PoB: Personableness of Bartender
As a percentage of time filled with witty banter

K: Kitchiness
As a percentage of ridiculous things in the bar, like Jenga or family photographs

BS: Bathroom Scariness
As a percentage of bathroom-related nightmares following the drinking session during regular sleeping hours (normally about 13%)

F: Formalness
As a percentage of men present wearing non-ironic ties

If there’s a lovlier bar than Flatbush Farm, I don’t want to know about it. It’s so classy, it makes Union Hall look like Welcome to the Johnsons. It’s so charming, it makes George Clooney blush. It’s so pretty, it makes sunsets turn to ash and fall out of the sky. It’s so expensive, it makes me perspire.

Flatbush Farm is decorated with perfectly shabby barnyard equipment, has hippie hand soap in the bathrooms and sells organic beer. I think the concept of organic beer is both horrifying and life-affirming. It’s horrifying in that it’s a pussified version of an essentially tough beverage. But it’s kind of life-affirming in that I am an alcoholic vegetarian with a thing for farmers’ markets. It’s like they don’t even pretend that place is not exactly for people like me – except older and with more money.

Last night, they had a fund raiser for some sort of animal shelter and were auctioning kitty-pleasuring gift baskets to insane people who actually try to stuff pets into their tiny New York apartments. Attendees were literally yelping with delight as they bought hundreds of dollars worth of scratching posts and tiny plush mice. “Mr. Muffins is going to be so spoiled,” squealed one woman. Really, that money would be better spent on anti-depressants and a good lint roller.

Aside from how insane rich people in Brooklyn are, this bar is really lovely. You should go check it out. But don’t stay too long because the organic beer will probably melt your brains.

Flatbush Farm
76 St. Marks Ave. at 6th Ave. and Flatbush Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11217

You pretty much know what you’re getting with the JZM Condom. It’s mostly in Brooklyn, but there’s a quick in and out through Manhattan.

The 4/5 Condom is smooth and efficient. It’ll get you there fast and it hardly ever breaks.

  The AirTrain Condom is just like all the other condoms, but more expensive, modern and confusing. Give yourself at least two hours per use.

I’ve recently adopted a Tuesday evening tradition. Well, it’s only been two times now, so maybe it’s more of a Tuesday evening coincidence. It’s something in the spirit of Mardi Gras – revolting hedonism on a Tuesday. This event, which I like to call “Shotdogs,” has everything but the girls gone wild.

The evening starts out at Welcome to the Johnsons, a perfectly divey bar in the Lower East Side in Manhattan (yuck, I know). I’ve been going to this bar for several years now and was something of a regular when I lived in that hood. I was there for the summer when fruit flies had infested the limes and so there was always a fine film of bugs and bug-parts on every drink you ordered. That was when I developed an irrational fear of bar fruit. I’ve witnessed the replacement of the toilet that was once so covered in band stickers, you could hardly tell what you were supposed to do with it. The new one is collecting its own piss stained collection. I’ve been there for brawls between guys who look like they fell out of a Ramones show thirty years ago – replete with blood trickling from their self-pierced safety pin earring holes. Anyway, as pleasant as all that sounds, there is one reason above all that I have been a Welcome to the Johnsons fan for so long: $2 drinks during happy hour (from when you wake up till 9 PM). You must not tell anyone about this. It’s a secret.

At Welcome to the Johnsons, the drinking begins. First, $2 whiskey and gingers. Then the shots. Last night we did a Red Headed Slut, followed by the bartender’s own concoction, Dr. Nut. Then we continue on with the regular drinks. All the while, the conversation gracefully flits from one topic to the other, weaving in nearby patrons and their opinions of The Flaming Lips, March Madness, olive juice, etc.

In order for the Shotdog participants to remain reasonable, we all have to eat dinner. Dinner is hotdogs from Dash. In my case, vegetarian chili dogs. In other cases, processed meat monstrosities, choked with bacon, Fritos and other wonderful things. But that’s not all. Then come the chips and salsa from Festival Mexican Restaurant (outside of which, some guy drunkenly peed behind a Pathfinder while everyone in the bar watched with horror and glee) and then cupcakes (including one for the bartender) from Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Please keep in mind, I skipped the gym to partake in this madness.

By 9:00, we are all sufficiently bloated and return home to watch American Idol while we mainline salad and try to rehydrate.

Now, I don’t know if this particular evening’s activities can be approximated in our borough. I have a feeling that it is possible, but only in Williamsburg, where girls in leggings and guys in hoodies are a dime a dozen. The real issue here is that while the people at Johnsons and the people in Williamsburg are all disgusting hipsters, the ones at Johnsons are much skeezier. In my mind, this goes a long way. So, until an absurdly underpriced dive bar and an absurdly overpriced hot dog vendor move into my current hood, I think I’ll just keep hitting up the L.E.S for my shotdog fix.

Alarmed that some people didn’t know about this, I decided it is essential I throw down a little FYI for the good people of New York City.

NYC is distributing a projected 18 million free, NYC-branded condoms, available all over the place. Right now, the locations look a little Manhattan-heavy, but the other boroughs are well represented. I found some at Welcome to the Johnsons. My roommate found some at those crazy Manhattan clubs.

So, as the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene says, “Get Some.” You know you want New York City all up on your gear.