Zero Dark Thirty

I'll bet you've all spent the last month sitting at your laptops, anxiously hitting the reload button until I put up my next post, wondering where I've been. I didn't die; I didn't become a world traveler or get offered a new employment opportunity anywhere remotely in the six figures. No, I'm just really fucking lazy and lack motivation. Sorry, kids.

At any rate, the last month has had some recent developments which, as my duty (haha. "Duty.") as a blogger, I feel I should share with you all. Let's run it down in list form, because I'm pretty sure you're all too busy and/or impatient to sit through an hour's worth of my shit:

1) Let's get the biggest deal out of the way first: as much as I tried to avoid this like Taylor Swift avoids actual talent, I finally turned thirty. Despite a minor freakout, it actually doesn't feel that different from 29, mostly because I'm still giggling at words like "feel."

Despite being knocked down by a heavy case of the "Mutant Cold," I had a relatively nice, low-key birthday in New York City, with a guest appearance from one of my favorite Bloggi, Tabs, who flew in from Canada for the funeral procession. Since I was sick, I couldn't do everything I had anticipated, and I'll be having a do-over this summer. I expect way more of you to be there, so get on that right now.

Hitting thirty also won me the coveted "Last Chance Blogger" Bootleg award over at 20sb, which is interesting because didn't I also win this shit last year? How old do you people think I am? I was also up for "Most Opinionated," but seeing as how Tits and I were both nominated, we probably split the vote and that's why neither of us won.  Oh, well- thank you anyway! It's awesome to know that you guys love me so much that you thought I was ancient even when I wasn't.

(Also, shout-out to Ginny, who was voted "Best 20sb Contributor." I would make an "In My Pants" joke here but I honestly can't think of one right now.)

B) I'm still on the job hunt. At this point I'm basically trying for anything; however, I did apply for a social media job with the New York Rangers that I am absolutely 100% under-qualified for. I managed not to make a complete ass of myself and not send a cover letter that basically stated OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU PICK ME I LOVE THE RANGERS PICK ME PICK ME LKJKFJKHJGSDFJHFJKLKVNFJNCHSZVCJNFKLNDFJFHDVHVBGJFGBGHBF
PS- I want your goalie to impregnate me. Thank you, and have a nice day.

Yeah, so that didn't happen. Probably a genius idea on their part.

THUNDERCAT) The best part of being back in New York is definitely having the chance to reconnect with my friends and family. My brothers housed me for my first two weeks, and despite having the sound effects to NHL 13 permanently lodged in my brain, it was great to hang with them after being physically separated for seven months.

After that, it was time to hit up everyone I hung with in school. I'm still in touch with 90% of them, and within two days I was back with my old crowd. One of them in particular, who has made a brief appearance on this blog as Bri-Winning, was the first one to invite me out, and in doing so introduced me to the guy I'm currently dating.

You did read that right, FYI- the Mayan calendar was probably another year off because I managed to trick some poor dude into keeping me around after conversing with me for more than five minutes. Heretofore dubbed "Iron Man," we've been together a little over a month, and he seems relatively normal. I've already met or know most of his friends and they're all cool as shit, too. Iron Man has yet to see my robot collection or any of my Star Trek memorabilia, so I haven't fucked this up. Yet. There won't be much written about him here, but the relationship will be drawn out over on Snark & Sex, because he doesn't know that one exists.

I'm fucking amazing.

In case you're all wondering, my Iron Man doesn't look at all like RDJ's Iron Man, or I already would have roofied him into marriage.

Please. I'm taken, not dead.

So there it is- my last month, laid out for you (haha. "Laid"). I still need to get to my last Dead Space recap in time for the second half of the season, and I also need to get off my ass and come up with new ideas for my next few posts. So I am still alive, and functional (?), and I will be around more. I promise.

I love you.

PS- we're looking for guest bloggers over at S&S. If you want to share how your met your significant others or what your first date was like, drop me an email at thataintkosher83@gmail.com. We need you from now until Valentine's Day.

Oh, Canada! The Sociopath Edition

I was at work yesterday, screwing around on Facebook and not doing anything at all incriminating on the interwebz, because that would never happen, when this viral image popped up absolutely fucking everywhere.

God, I would still hit that. Early and often. I am such a sociopath.

Apparently this is a promotional poster for Only God Forgives, the next collaboration from Baby Goose and his Drive director Nicolas Winding Refn, which was already enough to get me running to the theater. This was filming in Thailand (BANG KOK? Clearly not just a clever name) when I was supposed to be there for the film festival last year but the trip fell through. Good news for Ryan, not so good for the rope and chloroform industry. Did I say that out loud? I mean no.



They also put this out, so I feel (slightly) less crazy:

Here's the official summary on Wikipedia:

According to a production synopsis, the film follows Julian, who runs a Thai boxing club as a front organization for his family's drug smuggling operation, as he is forced by his mother Jenna to find and kill the individual responsible for his brother's recent death. 

Ryan Gosling as Julian:

• An Englishman who lives in Bangkok and "is a respected figure in the criminal underworld" according to a production synopsis.Gosling had undertaken Muay Thai training in preparation for the role by that September, which included 2–3 hour daily sessions.

So basically what this is saying is that Ryan Gosling wears a wifebeater, kicks random people's asses and speaks in a British accent for two hours? I'll be sitting in the back by myself. Also that crashing sound you just heard was every single pair of panties I own falling to the floor in anticipation.

There better not be any puppies or babies in this movie. I might die.

Dead Space Vol. 2- BOOM! Panties Drop

That noise you heard on Sunday was the splatter of ovaries hitting televisions as they exploded in a sea of "HOLY GOD YES."

This week's The Walking Dead, "Say The Word," picked up right where "Killer Within" left off, with everyone being introduced to Rick (?) and Lori's daughter. Rick was too busy writhing around on the floor trying to win that well-deserved Emmy, so Daryl stepped up and held her and HOLY SHIT KITTENS AND MAGICAL RAINBOWS. Every time he asked the baby if she "liked that, Little Ass-kicker," not a woman on the planet did not respond in the affirmative. The only way the writers could have ensured more Defcon One-r levels of masturbating is if they would have cut to that video of Baby Goose singing the theme song from My Little Pony.



Top that off with Daryl putting flowers on Carol's grave and that's it. I'm done. Your move, other racists.

Apparently getting massively turned on by Daryl cooing to Lori's infant daughter does not make me a sociopath, judging by the Talking Dead that followed "Say The Word" (gotta say, that's a relief). I am, however, a little concerned about the tingly feelings that develop whenever the focus shifts to Batshit Rick (BRick? Let's make this a Thing).

For those of you familiar with the books, you know that Lori's death begins Rick's spiral into becoming completely and totally fucking insane. Also, for those of you familiar with the books, you know exactly who was on the other end of that phone call. I like how they're wasting zero time and not dragging that storyline out (it's AT&T, because Rick was too stupid to switch to Verizon).

Anyway.

I'm a little worried as to what it says about me that the more insane Rick (BRick) gets, the more I'm attracted to him. It can't be just me, right? I mean, his Crazy Face is pretty sexy, even if it's really bloody. Also if you think about it, all of this insane rage porn is to avenge the death of his wife, whether we all hated her or not, so it's kind of devoted and sweet. Kind of. Maybe. Also don't forget- British. He did this once:



I think I'm alone now.

Even The Governor also got in on some cute kid action, until we discovered that his daughter Penny is a zombie that he keeps in a closet, oh haaai.

Again, if you read the comics you knew some of that already, but the show has been deviating, so there's still that element of surprise.

It'll be interesting to see just how important a role Penny plays with all the characters, and just how closely the showrunners follow the books, if you get what I'm saying.

Wait- ew! Not like that. You perverts. She's like seven! I love you all so much.

At any rate, thank you, The Walking Dead, for no longer being a metaphor for my sex life. Between Daryl holding babies and BRick and his one-man zombie destroyer, after next week I'll most likely be pregnant.

Oh, Canada! The Birthday Suit Edition

Today in the US is Veteran's Day, a monumental day in American history because it celebrates our troops and all that they've contributed to our country over the past few centuries. I'm definitely not knocking this, considering the most significant achievement I've completed recently is a grilled cheese sandwich.

I'm awesome.

However, November 12th also marks another glorious feat which should not ever be overlooked. 32 years ago, even before my mother graced this planet with my existence (holy shit, I'm old), the world was introduced to Baby Goose.

This led to an epic chain of events that includes this video that doesn't make me a pedophile;



and culminates (so far) with this scene from the best film released in 2011 that did not result at all in my ladyboner.



Also none of my friends talked to me on Facebook at all today inquiring when this post was going to go up. Kitty and I in particular did not have this conversation, which never made me sincerely question the validity of what I used to consider our very close friendship:

Nugs: Today is Ryan Gosling's birthday
If I get arrested will you bail me out?

Kitty: Sure!
Have fun!

Nugs: Why do I think you're lying?
You're totally going to call the cops

Kitty: lol

Nugs: Maybe he likes handcuffs
I couldn't tell even though I've been hiding outside his house for a week I mean no
Can you imagine if I knew where his house was?????
*DIES*

*extremely long pause*

You're forwarding this conversation to the government, aren't you?

Kitty: I kinda do
It's near one of my friend's places
in Beverly Hills (that is RIGHT NEAR ME OHMYGODKHDUYWTEYEUWGDYGFDCBCHDHHJ)

Nugs: WHAT.
HOW HAS THIS NEVER COME UP???????????
WE ARE NO LONGER FRIENDS.

I told my dad about this, by the way, and he just gave me a horrified look and went, "NO." Bobby asked me what I wrote on the card when I mailed him a chloroformed cake and nudie pic. Shut up! You guys don't know my life.

Also also- this:

I don't even... I'm done.

Anyway, enjoy this Evolution of Divinity from Buzzfeed of all the ways that the world has thanked Ryan Gosling's mom for bequeathing us with his photoshop-like presence. And Canada, we almost forgive you for Justin Bieber.

http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/the-evolution-of-divinity-everything-ryan-gosling
(Reminder- from the year 2000+ he is 100% legal. Party on.)

And... DIE (Version 2.0)

Over a week has passed since the illustrious miracle/humiliating shitshow that was the Radiohead concert that I went to in Santa Barbara. A lot of you (a.k.a. three people) are probably all, "where the hell is the blog post detailing this momentous event?" You most likely figured I 


1) had a massive stroke and/or coronary brought on from the ecstasy and/or lunacy I experienced before I even arrived at the venue, which would not have been a totally out of the way guess, BTW;


B) drowned in a sea of my own tears, brought on when they played anything, all night;


or


PIRANHA) got arrested for refusing to leave the Bowl hours after the band left and attempting to find new and interesting ways to track down the band members and explain why I should accompany them on the rest of their tour. Also not a totally out of the way guess, BTW.

Fortunately (?) for you guys (and also for me), I was just really lazy and am just getting around to posting today. I was going to apologize for the extended hold time, but then I remembered that I just took an eight-month break, so haaaai.


Haha. "Hold."


Anyway. My boss' fiancee called me to warn me that the weather forecast for Santa Barbara was pretty shitty- 50 degrees and rainy, and that the venue didn't allow umbrellas. Regardless of the fact that the SB Bowl was run by a bunch of assholes, she could have said that there were flash floods and hailstorms and I still would have traveled on foot, so this did not deter me at all. This just proved to me that, much like everything else on the planet, Thom Yorke clearly controls the weather as well, since SoCal now resembled England. I grabbed a hooded sweatshirt and trash bags and we were out the door.


After 2 1/2 hours in the car, where I spent the entire ride doing that thing that dogs do where they get super excited that they're going to the park, we finally arrived right as Radiohead took the stage. 






We totally missed the opening act because of traffic, which I'm kind of bummed about because they are pretty badass. I mean, they opened for Radiohead so they must have been worth checking out live. If you guys are interested in listening for yourselves, they're called Other Lives and their link is here.


Thom apologized a bunch of times for the rain, which was really nice of him, but no one seemed to care that we were all getting dumped on- Radiohead has such a rabid fan base that I doubt anyone even noticed.


The band played all the tracks from The King of Limbs, opening the set with "Bloom," and almost everything from In Rainbows, which is a fucking masterpiece and one of their best albums. The last song they played before their two (!) encores was "Idioteque," which is when my hands started squee'ing all over the place. I was probably like a 15-year-old boy touching boobs for the first time. Also incorporated into the setlist were iTunes tracks "Identikit," "The Daily Mail" and "Staircase," which are also incredible and all Radiohead fans should download them immediately. The only other songs they played that weren't really recent were "Planet Telex," from The Bends (my favorite of their records), and PARANOIDANDROIDOHMYGODHOLYSHIT, which closed out the night. In case you haven't figured it out yet, that was when I totally fangirl'd out and started sobbing profusely. It was extremely embarrassing and I'm probably fortunate that I still have a job. 






There is actual video footage of me crying like a toddler; however, it will not be shown due to that whole "anonymity" deal. And also because I'm vain as fuck.


Also my boss told me that Sawyer from Lost was standing right in front of us, but I saw him and I think it was just some dude who looked like him from the side. Doesn't matter; no one could detract from my Radiohead experience. Not even anyone who looks like this with his shirt off:

OK, maybe a little.

I never buy souvenirs at concerts anymore, but this was Radiohead, so of course I shelled out a disgusting amount of cash and bought a bunch of shit that I will totally regret when my next bank statement comes in the mail. 

Of course one show wasn't enough, so on Saturday I stayed home to watch Coachella's live YouTube feed. Dude, those people got "There, There," "Everything In Its Right Place," and "KARMA POLICE" (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) along with everything else that we heard in Santa Barbara. WHAT. 






As soon as I heard the opening to "Karma Police" I lost my shit. I am so glad I live alone. 


I am beyond stoked that I FINALLY got to see Radiohead live (one might say "insane," but I already put a disclaimer up above, so their opinion is already invalid). There were four years between Hail to the Thief and In Rainbows, and another four between In Rainbows and The King of Limbs, so I'm guessing it will be a while before their next tour. When that happens I hope it doesn't sell out in 12 seconds, and even if it does, I am not above jail time. 

And... DIE.

For the three of you that may not know, I kind of, sort of, may be into a few Radiohead tracks.

OK, I can't pull that one off. My obsession with Radiohead, according to my family and most of my friends, borders on "mentally insane." I've been dying to see them live and almost went into a depression when Coachella and their live tour sold out this year before I could purchase a ticket. I own all of their albums, singles, live tracks and B-sides. I've threatened to end friendships with people who either "don't like" them or "don't get their appeal" (no one ever took this seriously, FYI). As soon as my bank statement prints out actual numbers and not "HAHAHAHAHA!" in huge block letters, this is the tattoo I'm going to get:

Without the band name, though, because any guy who knows what
 this is is automatically my future first husband.

Yesterday I got a call from my boss, who has now been elevated to "One of the Most Absolute Exceptional, UnPrecedented People Ever on This Planet and Any Other Solar Systems Ever Discovered in the Future", informing me that he had an extra seat to the Thom Yorke extravaganza in Santa Barbara this Thursday, and of course he knew that I would shrivel up and probably shoot myself if he didn't take me, so the ticket was mine.

Me: .......

I honestly think I blacked out for a good thirty seconds. The protocol for the night was explained to me, in theory, but really, at that point, I could only hear syllables and noises. After I got off the phone with him, I dialed the numbers and hit up the Facebook pages of pretty much everyone I'd ever met since the age of ten, whose reactions ranged from underwhelmed to indifferent to "Oh, that's awesome...for you!"

I can already foresee that this is going to be the most unparalleled day of my entire existence, comparable only to maybe when I give birth to my first child or something monumental like that. I mean, he only has one extra ticket, so I don't get to bring a friend or anything and I have to go with his family, but that's cool. I would attend this show with a bunch of drug-dealing serial killers, as long as they waited until after the concert was over to murder me. Plus my boss' fiancee and brother are awesome and pretty close to my age, so hitting up Santa Barbara with them will probably be pretty fun, if they can find it within themselves not to attack me mercilessly for becoming completely unhinged.

I will definitely, positively cry during this show, especially if they play Karma Police, which is my absolute favorite song of all time from any artist, ever.



And not just one or two rolling tears, either; I'm talking full-on, toddler-like, sobbing tantrums that will disable me from looking at anyone in that car ride home in the face ever again. This is the two-hour period I've been waiting for my entire life. I'm not even sure if I'll get anything from that night on video and/or camera; I may be frozen in place. Seeing Radiohead live for me would have been like Charles Manson not only getting out on parole, but also having the judge say, "Listen, Chuck, go nuts. Kill some people while you're at it. Have fun! Peace out."

(PS- Blogger threw up those little red lines under the words "Thom Yorke," like they weren't in the dictionary. What? How is this even possible? This angers me.)

Anyway, I'll report back afterward, if I don't have a heart attack from my massive delirium first. I hope I don't; I'm also supposed to see Cabin in the Woods this weekend. That movie looks SO GOOD; I want to buy it a luxury hotel suite where I can get it massively wasted and impregnate it with a millionty babies.

Oh, Canada! *FACEPALM*

This weekend was my last chance to party in NYC before I head out to Hell-A for work. In order to give me a proper burial that included one final taste of Ray's Pizza, Hurricane came out for the funeral procession. We decided to leave my mark on as many Manhattan neighborhoods as we could manage, until we either passed out from lack of sleep/too much alcohol or collapsed due to the 118 degree (!) heat index. Unfortunately, that bitch Mother Nature had also altered her plans to revolve around me, and, with a combination of my immediate departure, the scorching temperature and my debilitating "physical problems" I wasn't exactly looking for my next Captain America, ifyougetwhatimsayin.

Such is my life.

Since guys never notice that I'm alive and I rarely get hit on, I figured this probably wasn't going to be an issue.

Hurricane and I chose our first destination mainly due to the fact that the wind chill had dipped to a frigid 98 degrees and we were basically looking for somewhere- anywhere- where the doors closed all the way. As soon as we stepped inside, we got accosted by some a-hole in a business shirt. That's almost as bad as Ed Hardy as far as bar outfits go, BTW. After I had entertained this jerkoff for no more than five minutes he "suggested" that I accompany him back to his apartment.

He actually said to me, "I'll be honest, I want to hook up with you." I told him that it was pretty obvious, as from ten feet away he probably wasn't attracted to my scintillating personality. He then advised that we skip the usual conversation and date part. What an incredible asshole.

I politely turned him down and he asked me to "explain my logic." Dbag. I said that I wasn't going to go home with a guy I just met five minutes ago and he immediately went into some philosophical rant about how that's not a good reason because

1) I can Google him and find out that he's not a serial killer and

2) he would be totally open to having some kind of friendship/relationship afterward.

I told him I didn't want to see him afterward, let alone right now, and also judging from this conversation he probably had body parts in his closet. He also said he detected some kind of "physical attraction," unless he was off. I replied that he was off. He added that I hadn't told him to fuck off yet, so I "obviously felt something." I told him I feel like I'm interested in this conversation because I find it hilarious and I want to see where else he's trying to go with this. I also wanted to know, BTW, who wrote his scripts.

PS- I should have told him that he was about to "feel" my knee in his crotch. I always think of the best shit when it's too late!

Then he told me that he would be the best hook-up I ever had. I laughed in his face. I told him that the fact that I said no 800 times and he's still harassing me is enough to get me to never go anywhere with him, ever, except the nearest precinct. Also I admit the that I kept the conversation going partially so I could be a total bitch.

Then, just when I thought I was safe, he countered with, "here's what we should do. Hook up." I proclaimed that here's what I should do- then I grabbed Hurricane, put our drinks on a table, and exited stage right. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him make a beeline for another, even younger girl who I almost thought about saving but I decided not to push it since I was already in the clear.

After that we decided to stick to places I had previously gotten loaded at and may have already made out with somebody already knew and loved. We chose one of the West Village music venues and this time it was Hurricane's turn to meet some guy who, while decidedly pretty cute, was not taking the RealFeel all that great, while I agreed to play wingwoman. I talked to this dude's friend for a while before I realized he was a total creeper. After a while he started yelling that he just HAD to see me again and he offered to give me a job at his company to get me to stay in NYC. I was terrified that he was going to offer to marry me. I was almost ready to smash my glass on the ground just so I could stab myself with one of the shards until I happened to look to my left for some assistance and realized that Hurricane's future alimony check had a much hotter friend OH HAAAAI.

As it turned out, dude turned out to be from Toronto, which I could tell immediately because he actually said "ABOOT" and "EH." HAHAHAHAHA! That is amazing! (PS, Tabs- I asked him if he knew you and he said no. If he wasn't a total Canada stereotype I would have assumed he was lying because everyone knows you.)

Despite the fact that he looked almost EXACTLY like Peyton Manning but way hotter and with a decidedly more perfect nose, Canadian Bacon of course was a hockey fan , so we traded barbs about the Rangers vs. the Leafs. As a Blue Jays fan, he also harbored a disdain for the Yankees (sorry, Tits), so I decided right there that I was going to bear his perfect 6'3 children.

Seriously, imagine our genetic mashup.

He asked for my number within five minutes and I felt kind of bad because this other dude was watching but hey, you snooze, you lose. It's not my fault that this guy implemented the MAC System.

Creeper Dude turned out to be a pussy that admitted defeat by just going home without saying goodbye or anything, so the rest of us- Hurricane, Sweatstack,  Bacon and myself- went for late night mac and cheese. After a couple of hours, Hurricane and the Stack were heavily making out on some bench while I silently cursed my own bodily functions. 

Hurricane had to get up super-early for work the next morning, so Bacon and I decided to hang out. Over the course of the night he had dropped hints that I was welcome to come back to his apartment, and I almost cried because STUPID STUPID PERIOD. When he finally asked me straight out to come home with him I made moving-related excuses because I was NOT telling some dude I just met about my womanly issues. It may have seemed kind of ballsy on his part to assume that I would just up and fuck him when I had known him for like, three hours; however, at this point we had already made out in the middle of the street and almost gotten hit by a car twice. So, uh, yeah. One can't exactly blame a guy for "going there."

Before you guys get all judge-y and shit keep in mind that again, I rarely get hit on and have not gotten any action in like three months AND there was vodka involved. I am usually not this big of a whore.

Anyway:

I did kind of like this guy and besides, his Canadian accent was hysterical and he let me make fun of him, and I didn't want to be that girl- you know, the girl that lets a guy grope her in the street and then is like, "Well, thanks for doing awesome shit with your hands there. See ya!" So I decided to come clean (Ha. Ha ha.) and tell him,  "look, I wasn't going to say anything but I'm having girl issues. Like, GIRL ISSUES." After some minimal blinking, he figured out what I meant and basically told me he was cool with it if I was, and we could do "other stuff." Works for me! Let's get a cab!

NYC Cab Driver and Elevator Personnel- if you are reading this, I apologize. That is all.

The last time I was in a guy's apartment, he acted like a total pussy and pretended that he hadn't invited me there for a session of deep railing (no, I don't want a snack, just take off your damn pants already) so I was seriously impressed by how Bacon did not waste ANY TIME. He didn't offer me a drink or anything, he just turned off the bedroom light, picked me up and like, practically threw me on the bed (that shit hurts, yo. I'm small and frail. Like a Smurf).

Come on, now. That shit ain't right.

Sidenote: his boxers said "Canada" on them. I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

What I did not appreciate is how he kept telling me that there would be a "next time" and that he would pay me for me to fly back to New York whenever I wanted. I once hooked up with this guy I thought was my friend and I was expecting nothing else- just a fun night that could possibly (but probably not) lead to some interesting, sporadic hookups. The guy had the tendency (and by "tendency" I mean "constantly") to treat women like doggy chew toys, so I didn't even want it go any further. Then he totally ruined everything by declaring his "feelings" for me and spouting off a whole bunch of other shit that I knew wasn't true (he admitted it later), and basically treated me like all the little 20-year-olds that follow him around and actually believe that they're going to be his wife or something. It wasn't what he said that pissed me off, it was the fact that he said it. BTW, I did confront him about this and we no longer speak. Guys, seriously- not every girl needs you to fall in love with them. Some of us really just want to acquire a booty call or- try not to fall over- really do want what you refer to as a "hookup." Get over it.

Anyway, back to the Bacon. We had already come to the mutual agreement that we weren't going to do what he had previously referred to as EVERYTHING, although things were getting pretty hot (dude is a dirty talker, which I have to admit was making me curse my girly problems even more). What made it even worse for both of us is the fact that he had an immaculate bedroom and white sheets. We got as far as we possibly could without actually going as far as we possibly could. Bacon got a little stingy when it came to the give-and-take; like, we already knew I wasn't going to get any; but he expected me to do everything (and I mean everything) else? I think emphatically not. I wasn't that much of a hard-ass, but all his begging made it even worse and I almost walked out. Oh, also: what I got WAS pretty good, but the constant self-accolades were seriously annoying. I don't need a "preview," I get it. You're awesome. Let's move on.

Here's where the night got weird: My gross menstrual state left a lot to the imagination (hey, I was ABSOLUTELY willing; but I definitely understood his issues). I get that. Why, though, when he was totally willing to, ahem, make good use of his hands, was he so adamant about the no-sex clause? Wouldn't that be like, less disgusting? Was it a no-sheets thing? I don't know. That was totally bizarre. Has this ever happened to you guys?  I'd really appreciate some insight here because I am seriously confused.

Oh, Canada. Thanks for tarnishing my final memory of my home and native land.

At least I have a hilarious story to blog about. 

NIPOCALYPSE NOW!

This weekend I was sitting on Mandy Moore's couch giving a makeover to Yvonne Lehead when I got a text from Sara Nips (there are so many sexy things about that sentence). The entire Nip Clique has been super excited for her upcoming Vegas honeymoon because let's be honest, The Hangover has nothing on our more-than-slight homoeroticism.

Even though we're spread (haha. "Spread") all over the country, with two of us on other continents, most of us are East Coast based, so imagine, if you're not too afraid, the reaction that Mandy and I had when Nips shot me a sext announcing that Andy was thinking of changing their honeymoon destination to my hometown of New York City.

After we had finished "Squee-ing" and cavorting around in heterosexual matrimony, Mandy and I pulled ourselves together and concocted a plan to get Nips over to our side of the flag. Apparently she didn't need that much convincing because her next message was a request for a list of fun stuff to do in New York to help sway Andy over to the Dark Side (join us! We have roofies).

I of course immediately agreed to this because A) making lists and spreadsheets and color coding shit is like having sex to me and B) anything that lures Sara Nips into my dungeon bathtub ninja lair automatically equals WIN.

I sent her like a three-page email of the REAL New York City, color coded by section with links to the most important food, music, bars and classic sights. Apparently this made her day because not only did Nips forward this to all our friends, but posted quotes from the email on Facebook. Later I was told that my "real" NYC guidebook was hilarious, so for all of you who are planing a trip here, I decided to help you out and post it for you.

So here's how to do New York City on a bargain, the RIGHT way, without coming across as a desperate tourist or angry foreigner. Frommers, you are officially my bitch.

My email to Sara Nips is below:


Yay! You're coming to NY! (Please???)

Anyway, it was a total mistake to ask me to email you fun stuff to do because this is now a project for me. I'm color coding and organizing this shit.

PS- I didn't even have to look this stuff up. I JUST KNEW. OH HAAAAI.

PART 1: FOOD

I understand that since you guys are coming from Louisiana I have a lot to live up to, but NYC has some of the most amazing food in the world. 

PIZZA:

Before you attempt New York pizza eating, I must teach you the art:

1) It must be thin crust- none of this deep dish bullshit. Seriously, what the hell is that?

2) It must be a little heavier on the cheese- just enough to be heavy, yet not "extra."

3) Toppings are not acceptable. The only ones that are are extra sauce, extra cheese, and pepperoni, since at this point it's considered a classic. 

4) It must be extra drippy with the oil (I call this "Joker Mouth").

Why so delicious???

If you must get rid of the excess, you may tilt the pizza at an angle, but under no circumstances may you wipe the oil off with a napkin, ESPECIALLY if you are a dude. Any guy that does this must immediately have his balls removed and be forced to wear a dress, with a big, red letter "P" pinned to his chest.

Now that you've got that down, here are the best pizza places in the City. Basically anywhere you go for pizza in New York is going to be better than 90% of the country, but these are the standouts:

Ray's- There's only one ORIGINAL original, and it's on West 11th and Sixth Avenue. All other Ray's are cheap imitations. This is not only the greatest pizza, but the greatest food you will ever eat in your life. I took Rish and Nicole here, and they nicknamed it "sex pizza."

Rosario's- God, this pizza is amazing. The best part is is that this is right across from Arlene's Grocery so I constantly eat this before work. 

I HEAR YOU JUDGING ME!

2 Bro's- These are all over Manhattan- I think there are like six of them. It's really good, and one slice is only 99 cents. Two slices and a drink are $2.75. Oh yeah.

You guys might also like Two Boots- it's cajun-style. There's one in Grand Central, although I wouldn't recommend buying any food there, since the prices are basically as much as your plane tickets, one in each of the "Villages," and one in Hell's Kitchen.

FOOD GROUPS:

New York City has different food groups than the rest of us: pizza, bagels, hot dogs and pretzels. The best bagels in the City are at Tal Bagels- there are a bunch of them, but the one you want is on 86th and 1st. In the winter they warm them up for you.

There are two kinds of famous hot dogs in NYC- Gray's Papaya (although the fries aren't that great) and Sabrett's, which are the original "dirty water dogs" that everyone and their cat knows about. Bonus- most Gray's are open 24 HOURS.

Pretzels can be found at every single corner in Manhattan, and they're usually huge.

Secondary food groups:

Garlic Knots: The best garlic knots are at this place that I can't remember the name of on Houston, but they are mouth-watering. 

Black and White Cookies: These taste like cake, and they are fucking delicious. The best ones are at Russian bakeries in Canarsie in Brooklyn. In fact, just let me buy these for you. I know what's up.

Falafel: just walk around and you'll find falafel carts. 

Cheesecake: New York City cheesecake is like a new religion. The best one is just straight up plain, and it can be found at Junior's at 1515 Broadway. The original is at Flatbush and DeKalb in Brooklyn.

PS- DO NOT go to Lindy's for your cheesecake. They may be famous, but they cost WAY too much money and the cake tastes lemony. FAIL.

RESTAURANTS:

Most restaurants in New York are ridiculously overpriced and you'll hate yourself for spending so much money, but I'll recommend some anyway, because hey, they don't cost nearly as much as your wedding right? Right? Oy.

The best deli of all time is Katz's Deli in the East Village. The sandwiches cost eleventy million dollars and they only take cash, but GOOD GOD are they ridiculous. Also take a picture of yourselves standing under the Katz's Deli sign because you have to.

Magniolia Bakery is actually really cheap and just check out the shit they have. If they delivered I would never leave the house, honestly. There are a whole bunch of them but I like the one on 59th Street right by the subway best.

Cafeteria- This is open 24 hours a day and is set up to look like a high school lunchroom (um, hence the clever name). The macaroni and cheese at this place should be illegal. If someone told me it had crack in it, I'd be like, "Yup. Makes sense." It's on 17th and 7th Avenue.

FYI- All I did was type "Cafeteria" into Google and the restaurant came up. YOU DON'T KNOW MY LIFE!!!

PS- the waiters are REALLY cute but also totally gay, so everyone wins. They also have melty chocolate cake, so say goodbye to my thighs.

Eatery- I always get the Watermelon Martini and the Mac and Cheese. Also, once my friend had to be lookout while two people we didn't know totally boned in the bathroom. Good times. It's in Midtown on 9th Avenue.

If you want Chinese food, I like Pig Heaven. It's somewhere in the low 80's on 2nd Avenue. All the chicken dishes are excellent.

If you want something cheaper, you could go for Ollie's. It's sort of Chinese fast food, but still pretty decent. The best one is in the 60's near Lincoln Center.

PART 2: MUSIC

My favorite part! Depending on when you come, I may have a whole bunch of shows going on, so I'll be able to treat you guys to to some free live music (I hope you don't expect to pay for any events that I might be hosting while you're out here, because that's adorable). I have a tour coming through in October, and there's also a huge indie music festival called CMJ that covers every music venue in Manhattan. Anyway, here are some awesome venues I can take you to:

EAST VILLAGE: 

Arlene's Grocery

Fontana's

The Continental (check out their drink prices)

Mercury Lounge

Piano's 

The Living Room

Cake Shop

WEST VILLAGE:

Sullivan Hall

The Bitter End

Le Poisson Rouge

Wicked Willy's

The Red Lion

Kenny's Castaways

The Village Lantern

BROOKLYN:

Glasslands

The Bell House

Public Assembly

Union Hall

Union Pool

The Rock Shop

Brooklyn Bowl (A bowling alley that also has INSANE fried chicken)

Trash Bar

Southpaw

Sorry, I'll stop.

PART 3: BARS/CLUBS

I'm not a big fan of clubs AT ALL. I'm too impatient and too broke to stand in line for half an hour to spend 20 dollars on drinks. However, if you must, the ones on 27th/28th street are somewhat decent.

Le Souk at LaGuardia Place is kind of fun on Sundays and Mondays, too.

Bars are better. There are a ton all over the city that you can just walk into just from being out on the street. Actually, I should hook you up with my friend who guest bartends and he can send you a whole list of shit.

There are some I can definitely recommend, though:

Lansdowne Road is pretty cool. It's a sports bar in Hells Kitchen (10th Avenue) and it's around a whole bunch of cool stuff.

The Gael Pub has trivia night every Tuesday. Nerdy guys are hot. Oh, wait- you'll be married by then. But I won't be! It's on 83rd and Third Ave.

Pravda is super expensive but the martinis are amazing. It's near the Meatpacking District, near some other wallet-raping places, where you can make fun of the sorority skanks that fall all over each other like baby deer because they haven't figured out how to drink yet. 

PART 4: STAPLES

You have to go to Times Square. Stay away from the chain restaurants and stores because they're stupidly overpriced and you can probably get them in Louisiana, but just walk through it once so you can say that you did. 


You SHOULD check out:

The Wax Museum (which I will not go into with you because I'm afraid of it)

It rubs the lotion on its skin...

Ripley's Believe It Or Not
Sephora (it's HUGE. I can never just walk away.)

All the cheap-ass souvenir stores

Also go to 5th Avenue and Madison Avenue just so you can say that you were there. Don't buy anything because they fuck you hard and don't even make you a sandwich afterwards or tell you you're pretty.

The gigantic FAO Schwarz has a big clock (I said CLOCK!!!) that sings and is kind of creepy, but is totally awesome anyway. It's on 58th street and 6th Avenue. It's the one from the movie Big where they're dancing on the piano.

 

Go to Yankee Stadium and Madison Square Garden. Also, if you feel you must, go to CitiField where my beloved Mets play. The 7 train is the only train that goes to Citifield from Manhattan because no one else cares about the Mets, sadly. The Yankees Clubhouse store is in Times Square, on 42nd Street between 7th and 8th Ave.

Go to the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building and the Statue of Liberty, of course.

Get a Metrocard and ride the subway. 

St. Mark's is the best street in New York City. It's on the Lower East Side (8th Street from 3rd Ave to Avenue A) and has awesome record stores, St. Mark's Hotel and St. Mark's Comics. I can't even mention everything cool that ever happened here, so just look at the Wiki page and judge for yourself. PS- I also took Nicole here and we found wings at 3am. WINGS! AT 3 AM!

Go to Grand Central during rush hour and laugh at the butt-pucker.

PART 5: CHEAP SHIT/BARGAINS

The NY Pass is really cheap- about 60 bucks- and it gets you into a bunch of the main NYC attractions (Times Square, Statue of Liberty, etc). No strip clubs, though, sorry. :(

20at20 is where you can sign up for certain Off-Broadway plays for only 20 bucks. It's not going on right now but it may come back in the Fall. I saw like, 11 of them a few years ago.

Walking- seriously- I walk EVERYWHERE in New York. It's the best way to see stuff and you meet the most insane people. Plus your legs will look fucking fantastic. Here's a site to get you started, but you also have Central Park, Bryant Park (where the Project Runway fashion show is), Washington Square Park in the West Village (the "Dog Park!" It's adorable!) and multiple other walking paths.

All those food carts that I mentioned above. Seriously some of the biggest excitement ever to enter your mouth. Sorry, Andy. <3

PART 6: SHOPPING

Basically, walk into whatever store you want, but here are my favorites:

Kim's Video and Music- seriously the best and most eclectic music store ever. They have everything from Blu-Ray to vinyl, and they always have in-store performances. I'm there at least twice a month. They're on 1st and 1st in the East Village (my favorite area of NYC. I'm moving there.)

Bleecker Bob's- Another awesome record store, this time in the West Village on 3rd Street. They always have cool shit for a bargain, and on weekends they're open until 3am.

STRAND- This a famous bookstore in Union Square, with a Kiosk in Central Park. They sell rare and used books, too, and CD's and DVD's. If you stop in, be sure to get a STRAND tote bag to post on Tits' wall so she gets jealous.

Forbidden Planet- one of the most famous comic book stores in the history of comics. The New York store is the only FP store that's not in the UK, and it's located in Union Square right near the subway. It has everything- comics, toys, action figures, graphic novels, trading cards, apparel, event notices- I have literally spent hours in this place. I also DO NOT in any way have a picture of the storefront as the home screen on my phone. And by DO NOT, I mean I am totally lying.

Shut up! You don't own me.

Midtown Comics- second only to Forbidden Planet. There are three locations- one is literally right across from Grand Central, on 40th street, one is in Times Square, and one is downtown, on Fulton. Although that kind of defeats the purpose of the "Midtown" part, but OK.

Sunshine Cinema- not really "shopping," but they show cool, "new classics" on weekends at midnight. Recent stellar choices include Rocky Horror, Back to the Future and the MUPPET MOVIE! More convincing: My ex took me here on our first date and I immediately gave him sexytimes. BAM! FTW. It's on Houston (pronounced like the TV show, not like the TX city).

Jack's 99 cent Store- Like Walmart for even bigger cheap-asses. It has everything, including Halloween costumes. There are two- one across from Bryant Park and one on 32nd and Madison.

Ricky's- this is basically the Starbucks of NYC costume cosmetics stores since there's one every five steps. They have a lot of weird, colorful shit like wigs, glitter makeup, dirty magnets and basically whatever else you can think of that you don't want to display on the fridge when grandma comes over.

Or do you???

Whole Foods- I fucking love whole foods. I'm pretty sure they have my picture up in corporate to warn the employees as to when I come in. The art to shopping here is to ask to "try" stuff and then keep coming back to "try" stuff again.

Anyway, there's a gigantic one on Houston Street that is THREE STORIES complete with a bakery and beauty section. I'm not allowed in there without adult supervision. I've been told my O Face comes out.

Toys in Babeland- EXACTLY what you think it is. (You're welcome, Andy)

So that was it- my bible of shit to do while you stay in New York. If anyone ever needs a tour guide, feel free to hit me up. I accept Visa, AmEx and Mastercard. But not Discover, that little ginger bastard.