Ah Pianos margaritas yes yes

two weeks ago I had two margaritas, and mind you that I can hold my alcohol well and can go 5-6 whiskeys neat deep and still only be buzzing. I’m not much of a big drinker but I can handle it. EXCEPT if its these babies apparently. The second one was had in quick succession from the first around 6.30pm. 15 minutes later I walked to the F Train to head to Jackson Heights to a dinner party (why do it that far away??? ask Jina). I proceeded to fall asleep and waking up past Forest Hills, many stops further than I needed to go. I switched trains to go back to the actual stop, fell asleep again and woke up in Midtown Manhattan. I switched one more time and arrived completely sober and well-rested but two hours late for the dinner. So there were some positives there too.

I’ve only blacked out 6 out of the 7 times I’ve drank them and I know I speak for most of us who have had them when I say that. Not bad odds and very easy on the wallet…especially at happy hour. still trying to figure out what kind of crack rock they mix in with the tequila? anyone? RITAZ!!!!

WOW.

OK, first off it’s pretty well known that I like a drink. Some would even go as far to say I like a drink a little too much…to those I say, come live in London fool!

anyway, I have 2 ‘rita stories that spring to mind. The first involved the then soon to be boy band you may have known as Sundown…I arrived nice and early for a show of theirs at Pianos one evening, when I say early, I actually mean in time for the $3 happy hour which finishes at 7. By the time the clock hit 7 I was speed drinking to get as many discounted drinks as possible to carry me on through the night. Roughly 20 minutes past the hour of 7 I was a mess, screaming at the top of my lungs at the bar maid (waitress to you Americans) who threatened me with my life, then to friends and basically anyone standing within a 50 meter radius, whilst the very quiet acoustic Sundown tried to perform.

blah, blah, blah, one thing led to another and I found myself asleep on a cinder block in the pouring rain outside Rockwood telling people the rain felt so good on my skin…I woke at some point during the night in my then girlfriend’s bathroom, naked, with one foot dangling into the open toilet….she was not happy.

My bar bill claimed I drank 7 of these THINGS. I have never been so sick in all my life.

The 2nd story is pure class. What’s the best way to impress a girl on a date? Take her to Pianos, sit at the bar, drink 4 crack laced ‘ritas, buy her chicken fingers for dinner, then after hurling abuse at a man wearing a non ironic bow tie in the upstairs bar fall down every stair (two mini flights) like a stunt man!

That’s right ladies, class!

oh, and tip the barman (waiter) $100 because you have been laced with PCP/Windowlene/Crack

Thank you and goodnight.

I just felt left out and wanted to post something. I have a 100% non fatality record with these so called death drinks. I consider it played 1: Won 1.

Round 2 begins Saturday at 3pm – then off to watch the Shea master and hurl Rita induced heckling at him. (I’m sure you love it Case) I’m going 2 for 2 – and no ones gonna stop me.

Wow! Ok, so first off I want to say that it doesn’t surprise me that Dean has the longest story out of all of them so far! Ha!!!
I guess I will discuss the first time I went to have these deadly concoctions. I was with Mr. Hutchinson. We went around 6:00 to hang out, and we were to head to a show at Canal Room at 8:00. Now, mind you, I DID eat before this so I thought I would be just fine……WRONG!!! I had two of those damn ritas, and then we polished those off with a shot of Jamesons for the walk over to Canal Room. When we arrived at Canal Room, the show had already started and I remember standing at the bar with one eye closed with the other attempting to focus on the stage to see who was playing. It was at that point that I leaned over to Wes, told him I had to go, and then I don’t remember a damn thing after that…..
God Bless the Piano’s Margarita!!!!

I’d like to suggest a name change:

Pianos Margaritas >>> Painos Margaritas

subtle difference, cleverly alludes to a typo which could easily happen upon consumption, and gives us an idea of what follows the consumption

Just got home from the first official Margarita Club meeting….I successfully finished 5 margaritas. I don’t remember the last 5 hours. I think I had Indian food…I’m pretty sure I rode a mechanical bull and got yelled at by the operator….I have yet to be sick…..I think tonight’s batch was weak.

Luke of the Wesleyan factor had 9??? And I’m pretty sure he said he was going to work at 8…..Seriously!!!??? WHAT. THE. FUCK.

????

Quote of the night – Dean – “I always knew I’d start a drinking club one day….”

Jesus. I had 9 of these sneaky bastards last night. I was warned, to be fair, but I thought I could do it. Shortly after I left Pianos I blacked out…on my way to Rockwood. At which point everyone wondered if I was ok or on death’s door. Gonna have to go with the latter.

Then I went to Ray’s to get some pizza before I headed to work at 10. I fell down twice inside after which I turned to the guy behind the counter and let him know in an innocent tone that the floor was slippery. I left there and headed to work. I was an absolute wreck. The only reason I know any of this happened was because my poor girlfriend was shouldered with the task of corralling me, and she was only slightly less drunk…and a third my size.

6 hours after my last drop of alcohol I was till drunk, but sobering up…thank God. This shit is evil. I’ll be there next month.

we should make a special member card and lets start the movment !!!!!!! i cant wait for the next one . and yes casey now i know what you meen the knock out of the after ……

oops.

First and foremost, Luke Wesley – you are the Godfather.

And so…..

Oh Rita, why do you hate me? Home by 10:30 happily drunk dialling anyone who cared to listen to me.

But before this could occur – Pianos was safely negotiated. So to Mason Bull (Or whatever it is bloody called!). Now, being a contact wearer my vision started to go a bit funny in my right eye. Was this the Rita Effect? Or had the contact become dislodged and was now residing out of place in my eye? Off to the bathroom to find out.

Into the mens bathroom, and no mirror which was rubbish and I was still eyeless. So there was only one thing for it, I strolled into the ladies bathroom. Great Success! A huge mirror and no females to call the fuzz on me.

Until. One poor lady wanders in, takes one look, and promptly scampers out. Luckily the next girls who fall into the bathroom were work colleagues and also heavily intoxicated. After 5 minutes of furiously jabbing a finger into my eyeball I realised the offending contact had actually fallen out. The Rita Effect. I am an Idiot.

So being as I couldn’t see (and not just because of the power of the crack), home James and I was sparing no horses. However – I hadn’t completely lost it. Why not use the travel time for a recruitment drive? Some poor lady by the name of Megan Powers was accosted for 2 stops on the E train. I know not what was said – but I think she was clearly impressed with the hard work we had put into the Margarita Bible. Or maybe she just wanted the dribbling one eyed tosser to get the hell away from her and leave her in peace – either way an email address was forth coming and so the club continues thrive.

Roll on February!

PS. The bar has been set at 9, this is what we should all aspire to.

All I’d to say is we need to see a Casey Shea version of this video, substituting crack with margaritas. Link to video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agT2GVNQjao

I second Wesley.

Well, the fact that I am the only girl who is posting on this diary is a little unsettling to say the least, but – I will proceed – because the makers of the Piano’s margaritas would want me to. Now, for those of you who know me – you know I tend to speak my mind, give my opinions of things and people, even when not asked to do so. Of course…I am usually right. However, one cold snowing evening (I think???) I had gone to Pianos to have a couple of those evilly delicious frozen treats. Now, I am no Dan or Dean, but I can usually hold my liquor somewhat well. To make a long story short – after
Casey clocked me in the nose with his giant head – and I almost forgot my beanie and gloves – which Dan had apparently stolen throughout the night and kept sporadically putting on – Casey and I headed to another bar. BIG MISTAKE!

Of course I wasn’t drunk, nope, perfectly fine. I swear! See – that’s where the ritas get you – one minute you are on top of the world, capable of comfortably discussing any topic that comes up in conversation, and then – suddenly it sneaks up on you – and you are a complete mess.

So, we arrive at the next bar. It was slammed, with no available bar stools or tables to sit at. I had absolutely no desire to stay, but Casey insisted – clearly the crack talking. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye I spotted a vacant bar stool. I didn’t ask who was sitting there, didn’t care who was on either side, I simply sat down and marked my territory. Moments later I feel a tap on my shoulder, followed by a thick Jersey accent asking me if I could get out of the chair.

This apparently did not go over well with me at all. I start sassing off about how clearly this guy is not a gentleman and has no manners what so ever because I am from the south where it is common practice for men to give up their seats for women, no matter what the circumstances, blah, blah, blah. Again, MONSTER MISTAKE! Especially when you are dealing with guys from Jersey in leather coats who are trying to eat their dinner that is actually sitting on the table in front of the stool you just sat in. I really don’t remember much of the back and forth that immediately followed the initial interaction, but if I know me on Pianos crack, I am sure it was filled with countless digs and insults I was hurling his way. Apparently, Jersey guy had had enough and started screaming at me.

Whooooooooooooooooooooooops!

So now Casey is involved, and keep in mind his brain is also full of frozen slush. The scene was definitely escalating between Jersey guy and Casey, and thankfully our friend, who happens to be the bartender, cast us to the other side of the bar before things got really ugly. Tragedy avoided!

Lessons learned? Hmmmm…not really.

FYI I’ve invited all my interns that are off age to come witness the REAL behind the scenes of the music industry

Langs, I posted! My posting only had one word to it though, but that was all I really needed to get the story across. ( see above posting ‘oops’)

Ever heard of Euclid Avenue? Neither had I until last night when apparently I boarded a C train instead of an F at 23rd street.

About an hour and a half later, I woke up on the train, thinking it was the 7th Avenue stop in Park Slope. Apparently I was so confident (drunk) that I actually exited the train and started walking home. I walked a good two blocks before realizing I was not in Park Slope.

Honestly, I felt like it was one of those LOST flashes and I was transported in space and time. HOW THE HELL DID I GET HERE….and more importantly, where the hell am I???

I turned around and walked back to the subway and it was only then that I read A,C – Euclid Avenue. Now I was completely confused cause I’ve never heard of Euclid Avenue. Hmmmm….

So I went back in, looked at the map, and discovered I was actually just a few stops away from JFK!!!????

Next thing I remember was waking up at Spring Street….sure, I missed the F train transfer about 30 minutes back, but I was about to be at West 4th! Another chance for the F train!

I ended up boarding a D train cause I was freezing my ass off and figured I’d take transfer to the F in one stop….wrong again….due to more service changes, the D did not stop at Bleeker. My best bet now was Atlantic Avenue…a few miles away from home!

I stayed awake this time and exited successfully. This is when I got the call from Langhorne. She was not happy….probably cause I’d gone missing for the past 4 hours.

That’s when I decided (was ordered) to call the adventure quits and get a cab home.

Oh yeah, by the way…the night started at Pianos…….

Last night reminded me of the Ether scene from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. After sinking 4 ritas in 40 minutes I proceeded to turn into Hunter S Thompson;

Ah, devil rita’s. It makes you behave like the village drunkard in some early Irish novel. Total loss of all basic motor skills. Blurred vision, no balance, numb tongue. The mind recoils in horror, unable to communicate with the spinal column. Which is interesting because you can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way, but you can’t control it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ioaXUPgAWQ

That’s right, I could actually watch myself from within, unable to control my ever decreasing behaviour…poor Mr and Mrs Jacobson, what patience they showed….after their no doubt car ride from hell I hope they made it home safely and are sensible enough never to offer a margarita laced Englishman with a lift again.

I lost the ability of speech at one point. I got in a taxi after getting off the subway at a completely random stop….now this is bad enough, but the stop I got off at was the stop of my choice, for some reason I decided I wanted to go to Soho at 1am? No idea why? The second I got off the subway in Soho I hailed a cab and all I could muster from within was WILLLLL BRIDGE BRIDGE BRIIIIIIDDDDGGGGGEEEEE! He was not happy but again very patient and for that I applaud him….especially when I forgot where I lived and ended up at my old apartment instead of my current one.

I practiced on Saturday. They are still dangerous.

3 Rita virgins put in great performances.

One guy had a fight with his g/friend. She stormed off and passed out in the cab home. We carried him home – literally. He counted every stair up to our apartment – which is 5 flights. There was a UFC fight on with a guy called BJ Penn fighting – he called him Sean Penn all the way through – well, when he was concious anyhow.

Yuri had 2 and proceeded to hit on every female in Pianos before being thrown out. Text yesterday was simply ‘Worst hangover ever’. And i thought the Russians could drink.

Got ‘emmmmmm!

That…was amazing. I had a decent showing at four down – not bad for a ‘rita virgin. Went to Rockwood after and annoyed the ever-loving shit out of Emily. Ate a bagel in the vain hope that it would absorb the evil floating around and within and through my liver. Pretty sure that by the end of happy hour, Pianos staff (patience of saints, all of them) had given up on the margarita machine entirely and fell back on pouring tequila and lemonade into tall glasses over ice.

I was still quite hammered at 11pm that evening – a perfect time for a Skype video chat with an attractive young lady. Woke up twice during the night with the shakes – more psychological than physiological, I’m sure.

a) Never again; or

b) Shooting for an even FIVE next month?

B. God save me, I choose B. Well done to all!

What possessed me to try to surpass my previous record of 3 crackritas this time around, I have no idea, though it very well may have been the devil. I went in quite determined to down 4 lovely glasses of “windowlene” and this was the only coherent thought I was able to maintain by 7:00.
Soon after having achieved my personal victory/downfall, I decided it was time to forge on to the next spot. Didn’t matter that I didn’t know exactly where the bar was or even know name of it, I had 4 margaritas on my side!
It’s with this misguided thought that I led poor Rita astray to wander the streets of the E.Village. Being easily distracted as I am, I spotted a Coffee Bean across the street and decided I should sober up with a hot cup. About half a second later I found myself flat on my back in the middle of the street. The light had turned red. Multiple cars were considering just driving over my lifeless body. Rita was trying to pull me to my feet, and according to her, her attempts only made me “sink more into the ground.” I vaguely recall her tugging uselessly on one arm when someone else grabbed me by under my other arm and dragged me up to my feet. It seems there were 2 men standing on the corner who watched it(me) all go down and decided Rita needed help pulling me out of traffics way.
I think(hope) I thanked him, but in all honestly I didn’t even remember falling down. It wasn’t until we’d gotten our coffee that I turned to Rita and asked, “Did I just fall down out there?” Yes. Yes, I did. and I have a bruised right buttock to prove it.

It is becoming quite worrying that i keep having tales to tell on here. At what point do you say enough is enough and book yourself into a rehabilitation clinic? The answer: NOT YET!
It was all going so swimmingly too. I had palmed the registration duties in the bible off to Angry Hacker so i could concentrate fully on the job in hand – finishing those margaritas and to start reeling in Luke Wesley at the top of the table. A mean feat indeed.
The Ritas were flowing. Personally, 5 down and jovial. Then the evil act took place. Dean McCarthy spied a man who is clearly at the top of his game. And also the only man stupid enough to carry out his evil thought. There was a spare melted Margi sat on the table and McCarthy thought it would be a good idea for me to chug the said death drink.
He lured me in with the promise of a bonus point and that was enough. To his credit, Ryan Stober tried to talk me out of it. “Dan, don’t do it!! Why would you do it to yourself??? Why? Why?!” he pleaded – but it was all in vain. I was coaxed in like the halal food stand to a drunken fool. Everyone else held there breath – revelling in my idiocy and anticipation of what this would do to one little man in the next 20 minutes. Blinded by ambition to be number one – down she went – in one. The last thing i remember is McCarthys grin – one of sheer delight.
The rest is what i have been told. Dean found me crawling on hands and knees up the stairs in Pianos. Those stairs must have been like Everest. He dragged me up them while i clung on to him for dear life. The next thing i know i was at home for a couple of hours before recovering (slightly) and heading out again to pull of some messy hectic dance moves at Naked Lunch. Amazing.
BUT! Sunday morning came around and the apartment was a mess. My roommates have informed me that when i got home after Pianos i tried a Bruce Lee fly kick to open our steel apartment door. The door won that particular battle. The handheld mirror and toolbox in the apartment were not so lucky and i claimed victory. The mirror was thrown, smashed and stomped on.The toolbox flung far and wide. The next day apparently the excuse i offered whilst destroying my home was simply “I LIKE TO SMASH STUFF!!!!! HAAAA HA”. Mary Poppins!!! The RitaS had truly made me lose the plot.
I think that is a once in a lifetime ‘achievement’. There will be no more downing of Margaritas. But golly gosh it was fun!!

Pretty sure my favorite part of the evening was when the obviously amateur bartender turned to our bartender and with the eyes of a child being told there was no Santa said in regards to dealing with us, “I seriously dont think I can do this”. Margarita club: 1 Pianos staff: 0.

I also proceeded to be carried by my semi-coherent other half, Luke Wesley, to Bar 4 for his 10:40 set. I then went straight to the back of the bar and fell asleep/into a coma for a solid 45 minutes. I vaguely remember waking up mid Misty Boyce set and saying how much I enjoyed her music before I coma-ed it up again.

After two days of discomfort in the middle of my chest, my google search for liver damage brought this up:

………..

Alcohol-Induced Liver Disease

Explore this section to learn more about the ways in which alcohol affects the liver and how alcohol-induced liver disease is diagnosed and treated.

What is the liver’s role in processing alcohol?

The liver breaks down alcohol so it can be eliminated from your body. If you consume more alcohol than the liver can process, the resulting imbalance can injure the liver by interfering with its normal breakdown of protein, fats, and carbohydrates.

What are the types of alcohol-induced liver disease?

There are three kinds of liver disease related to alcohol consumption:

Fatty liver is marked by a build-up of fat cells in the liver. Usually there are no symptoms, although the liver may be enlarged and you may experience discomfort in your upper abdomen. Fatty liver occurs in almost all people who drink heavily. The condition will improve after you stop drinking.

……….

It goes on to more serious issues, but I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ve got, a fatty liver. So all I have to do is quit drinking….easier said than done….at least the next official meeting isn’t for another month.

I went for 6 the other night and came out with 7. 7!!?? I was also passed out in a cab by 8, in bed at 8:30. I don’t think my frame was built for such abuse.

Casey.
Livers are for fairies.
Dan.

Ok…first of all, I had a great time at Piano’s. I have a strategy for next time and am aiming for 6 (I got to 4 this time – my first). My reasoning for going for 6 is simple. Nothing crazy happened and I executed the gig without a hitch. Obivously, I need to be more invested in the spirit of the club. Is that a minus one?

They’re were at it again those naughty Margaritas. I’d almost forgot to post the story. At a birthday party at Bowery Electric, after margaritas of course (and Sake bombs didn’t help), i was chatting to the birthday girls sister when i announced to her “i’m going to go over here now. i don’t want to talk to you anymore”. Charming. Still. Pulled off the lawnmower and all was good again in my little world.

Well, a nice quiet Saturday turned out to be a Casey Shea induced sh1t show.

One little message on facebook and i was on my way to Pianos to abuse my liver once again. I also had the pleasure of meeting Langhornes siblings which was bloody brilliant. Good genes in the Stoneburner family i can tell you! Solid breeding performance.

So, in a nutshell. Ritas were drank, we found a picture frame, we took pitures of the picture frame, we went to Park Slope, i SANG ON STAGE WITH MATT BASILE (no, i don’t know why or what was sung), we played wii, i woke up naked on the Sheas couch – really naked, i got dressed quietly, we all woke up later that morning, Casey nailed the picture frame to the wall, Langs took her sisters out – after talking about going for 3 hours, Casey and Cardozo had home made margaritas while discussing life on the roof, Casey made probably the best burgers ever, Jeff parred every hole, Cardozo made stuffed animals do rude and saucy things, Cardozo found his coat and his bank card. Langhorne did not find her phone, neither did Casey. I am now home. Wow.

One of the best days ever.

And next week it’s official.

Bye.

I had 11 margaritas yesterday. My girlfriend lured me out of the bar with a shiny new CD, freshly minted by Mr. Bryan Dunn. After 11 margaritas I was still up for partying, but SHE recognized that she needed to get me home before the damage caught up with me. Speaking of which, upon arriving home I proceeded to have no clue at all where the hell I was. I stood up beside the bed and kept searching for a switch while proclaiming, “I need to find the ultraviolet.” Then…I whipped out my penis and decided to give my box fan a much needed watering. Megan’s tennis shoe was also a casualty of war. I pissed in two different places, neither of which were a toilet or any sort of receptacle at all that has a drain. I finally got a few hours of sleep and then woke up around midnight. That’s when I watched the rest of SNL, smoked a bowl, and cracked a beer.

Last night’s Margarita Club did nothing but solidify Luke’s legendary status….11!!? I went pretty easy on myself with 5, and for the first time I made it past 9 o’clock!

Late in the night, Reinhard, Cardozo and two girls I’d never met showed up in Park Slope, and the party got restarted.

For the second straight Saturday, Cardozo slept on my couch (this time he stayed clothed).

Most importantly, we pushed the limits of drink making around 2am with a concoction we dubbed vampire blood….there are still 2 full glasses of it in my refrigerator if anyone wants a taste.

vampire blood:

2 parts tequila, 1 part rum, 2 parts gin, 3 parts triple sec, 4 parts port, 2 parts mango juice.

TASTY!

I have heard about this Margarita Club for awhile now, but I am notoriously lazy. The 20 minute trip to the LES always just seemed too far, but not this weekend.

I enter Pianos with only one hour to partake in the Margaritas. After I look at my watch I look around the room realizing I don’t know anyone of these margarita drinkers – until Mr. and Mrs. Shea enter a few seconds later. Even a few more seconds later my first Pianos margarita is handed to me and I must say I am not intimidated. The size and taste of this margarita is enough to just shrug off and think “what’s the big fuckin’ deal?”

The big fuckin’ deal is this: these things fuel the flux capacitor. The flux capacitor is what makes time travel possible.

With only 50 minutes left for my stay at Pianos, I sped my margarita drinking up to 88 miles per hour.

In the blink of an eye I have had 5 margaritas and it is 8:30 P.M. and I find myself standing in my apartment with a bag full of beer from my corner deli.

To quote the Talking Heads, “and you may ask yourself – how did i get here?”

I have to wait until the next afternoon to ask that very question, and what I was told was thankfully as tame as a person having had 5 margaritas in an hour could hope for.

I was informed that at the second bar that I graced with my presence I was calm until I went to pay my tab – for the second time. My informant went on to tell me how I asked to pay the tab that I had just paid again, and when the bartender tried to tell me that I had just paid the very tab I am asking to pay I began to argue loudly with him. “Why won’t you let me pay my tab? What kind of place is this?”

So I thank you Pianos, Doc Brown and my parents for kissing at the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance.

v

Luke peed on my foot as I tried to stop him from peeing in the fan. God bless you margarita club.

I hate you.

i never made it home saturday night. i spent all day sunday in the same clothes i wore on saturday. there are pictures in my camera i don’t remember taking. i’ve heard that i was very funny during kyle ervin’s gig. i heard piano’s rasied the price from $3 to $4 because of us. bless that margarita club… (i posted pics on fb)

So, I can’t remember what happened after 6:30pm Saturday.

My tale really starts Friday, Shea mocks me, quite rightly, that he did in fact kick my arse last month….now shame and anger along with 3 hours of sleep take me into March’s rita meet up….these are things not to be taken into any drinking club let alone a margarita drinking club!

Anyway, I decided to sink 8 ritas and my stupid 140 pound body decides enough is enough it’s time to black out….I remember little, dancing like a loon to The Stone Roses, slapping Hacker for not being English enough, flirting with the bar boy because he fancies Dan and not me and little else.

Now I sit, 3 days later still broken, riddled with the flu on a plane looking like a drug crazed addict, sunken eyes, pale skin, sweating and shaking whilst drinking Day and Ni Quil by the slug in a vain hope that I won’t have ruined my trip to Austin….where I understand they like tequila?

So roll on April where I will no doubt continue my demise!!!!

Oy, my friends, my friends. I’m intrigued by this strange phenomenon. Wish I could have been there last time around, thanks for the invite Casey.

You have given me something to aspire to. I forsee a very stumbly time in the near future for yours truly.

I ended my night on top of a dumptruck. …?

well, they said it was coming!

after leaving Pianos and whilst making my way to catch what can only be described as an “entertaining” show by Luke Wesley at Parkside Lounge, I was attacked, miraculously, by a mountain of a man!!

I was innocently walking down the street and whilst trying to help an old lady with her shopping bags across the road, this BRUTE stepped forward and directed a shoulder barge (which I blocked with my sizeable frame) towards the elderly lady….unfortunately I was not so fortunate with the sucker punch that then hit my square in the face…….well that’s the way the tequila haze saw it at the time anyway!

in fact what probably happened….oh come on, what DID happen, was that I stumbled and fell into a rather small chap walking with his girlfriend on probably a first date…then when I turned to slur whatttt do’youu fink yr doing? whilst rushing towards him with crack laced eyes, got a deserved punch to the mouth!

After a fair bit of yelling and complaining to everyone in earshot (including the police who I told to fu5k off because I owned them!!!) I calmed down, took another drink, went to a party and was asked by Ivanka Trump to show her around the Lower East Side sometime. God honest truth, you could see her at the next ‘rita meeting on 25th!

I fell asleep around 2 P.M. watching “Predator” for the 10 billionth time. I awoke and it was 8 P.M. with the realization that I did not consume any margaritas….

but how does that explain the head in my freezer???

v

….not quite sure if this is good or bad news, but starting Thursday May 14th we open at 2PM. Yep, kiddies, tack on another 60 minutes to Happy Hour! This cannot be good.

i had 3, passed out on my couch, and woke up to a very upset girlfriend questioning why i didn’t answer my phone the previous 4 hours.

Do you realise there hasn’t been a proper good story in the diaries since Dean getting smashed in the mouth on April 15.

DON’T MAKE ME COME BACK THERE (early)!!!!

The time has come. You may just see me at Rita Land tomorrow.

there are times when you do things and you think why the hell did I just do that?

well this was one of those times.

after getting the usual lack of respect that “that place” keeps throwing at me I decided to take matters into my own hands and destroy something precious to them……that’s right people I decided to down a lit candle like a shot of sambuca thus taking away their precious flame and a good majority of candle wax!!! HA, I WIN PIANOS!

…..or did I? my stomach, still churning with the unhealthy mix of 6 or 7 tequila based margarita concoctions now had fire and candle wax added to it. I’m surprised I didn’t combust on the spot! Add the nice burn to my tongue and actually it seems they’ve beaten me again!

why does it still hurt?

I decided to take my brand new “bf” and his totally awesome nerd friends to pianos for ‘ritas…

1. I may have told Casey’s wife & Casey that I am “totally gay” for her

2. I may have forced several male ‘rita club members to place their name tags over their mouths…I do not have photographic evidence of this (but would like some?)

3. I may have tried to seduce aforementioned bf into engaging in less than lady like behavior in one of the pianos bathrooms AND the cab home.

4. One of the nerd friends apparently tried to “curl up” in front of a McDonalds near his house (pretty sure he talked himself out of it)

That nerd friend had like four margaritas…I however…only had two. yehp.

i have the photographic evidence. For both of the above. eeehhheeehhhee….

It was Halloween night, and I promised myself I’d only have a maximum of 3 death drinks, due to the show we had at Rockwood later in the night. 4 margaritas and 6 shots later, and BAM, I found myself at home.

I don’t remember being on stage, but I’ve seen pictures like this one, so I know it happened…We were all dressed in drag as Robert Palmer and the girls from the “Addicted To Love” video, and it was not a pretty sight. Thank goodness I’d gone blind.

Then video started rolling in. At least half of the band had attended the madness at Pianos, and it showed. One Mr. Wes Hutchinson was one of the attendees….he decided to make some artistic choices….at times going with blood curdling screams into the mic instead of singing harmonies….then at other times giving the mic cable about 3 feet of slack and slinging it around and around and around…I’m sure Ken was pleased. Then there was me…not moving around much apparently out of fear of falling over. Then there was Tony Maceli whose massive balloon breasts continued to be fondled by members of the band, the crowd, and himself throughout the show.

Like I said, I don’t remember any of it…I was just a witness after the fact. I think that qualifies as a good night and a great show!

PS….this was Dan’s first trip back to Pianos since being gone for 6 months….I figured he’d be heckling me at some point in the night, however instead of “going large” he came up to me at about 9, an hour before the show, and said something like, “njbvbdkvbdfhbv.” I think what he was trying to say is he is a terrible excuse for an officer, can’t hold his liquor, and he was going home to pass out. PATHETIC.

Whoa Whoa Whoa WHOA! (that’s English for stop a horse). I feel the need to defend myself here!

Yes, i was happily curled up on my friends couch at 10pm. Yes, i missed a golden opportunity to heckle NY’s most embarrassing musical ‘talent’. But……

The REAL story goes that……After waking up at 4am Dubai local time and leaving for Dubai Airports Terminal 3 – I quite literally got off an aeroplane at JFK after a 14 hour non-stop non-sleep flight whilst also battling an 8 hour time difference. So basically at the end of the evening I had been awake for 24 hours straight. I hurridly got in cab and told the cabby “the quicker he gets me to my friends apartment, the quicker i start drinking crackaritas, the bigger his tip”.

That, is a strong officers performance.

AND – This all after not eating any proper food (I refuse to acknowledge aeroplane food as substantial food) for the best part of a 24 hours. SO, to summise – no sleep, no food, jet lag. All this after organising my flight from Dubai EARLY, an 8am flight, just so that I could make it to the Margarita Club – asking airport staff in Dubai why the flight was being delayed as I had a very important meeting to attend.

That, is a strong officers performance.

After dashing through traffic from JFK, i threw down my suitcases – got into my legendary Halloween costume – an original Dish Dasha from the UAE and got down to Pianos – smashed 6 Margaritas from 5:30 to 7:00 – which is half the alloted 4 til 7 time Shea weasled down 4 (allegedly – i’m guessing 3).

That, is a strong officers performance.

Staggered around the LES, where absolutely no taxi driver would take me home as I was a dribbling wreck and when I did finally cling on to a cab long enough for me to get in before he pulled away, he took me back to my friends apartment where I was staying in Stuy Town where I proceeded to get so lost that he had to come out and find me.

That, is a strong officers performance.

And more importantly – the very next week I was back in Pianos dominating the Margaritas again whilst Shea was ignoring every effort from numerous people to get him down there EVEN after he said he would be there.

That, is NOT a strong officers performance.

So there we are, an all round solid performance from myself upon my return of which I am proud. This weeks official Margarita Club (November 21) promises much – I am back to full NY time and will be there to smash down some Ritas before Casey Shea plays some ?music? – if you will. Be sure to catch his 8pm show as it will be full of heckles – there is no escape this weekend Shea…………..

Short and sweet story.

Friends over from England.

1 Quote of friend from England “I reckon these are going to be horrible, oooh, that’s actually quite nice – still – don’t think they’ll get me drunk…..”

2 Ritas….2nd Quote “Hang oonn, I’m feeling a bit pissed…”

4th Rita – Moonwalking through Pianos.

Oh – and on a Sunday. Sorry God.

Only stayed at the last gathering for about 20 minutes. Still that was enough time for my compatriot and I to consume a drink each, start a fight with another patron about the death penalty (even though I’m pretty sure they were on the same side), lose a just-purchased dress, and render me glassy-eyed and incapable of doing nothing else but stare into the middle distance for 2 hours at the next bar while she watched football. I was warned. I didn’t listen. And this was just the Cliff’s Notes version. You guys.