broken. crunked. all words that describe my current state of mind and physical condition. new year's eve eve was a tawdry night of failed hopes and broken dreams. just kidding! it actually started off with non-stop hilarity and rollicking good times in our own particular fashion, which included: discussions of race and class, researching galileo, copernicus, and christopher columbus on wikipedia, poring over our GIANT MAP OF THE WORLD (probably our best xxxmas prezzie by far...the thing is 6 feet long or something), and figuring out etymologies of such words as "bunk" and "servant". dr. rei came over and we ate a glorious feast and talked and talked and laughed and talked. it was so much fun! the turkey breast was so juicy and so turkey-tasting through and through...and i f**king NAILED the stuffing. for the first time ever. i was pretty proud. instead of the mashed turnip and apple, i blanched some beans, broccoli and baby carrots, then browned some butter with some walnuts and lemon zest, and tossed the vegetables in that. the pear pockets were a resounding hit, as they pretty much are wherever and whenever they make an appearance.
we couldn't figure out where to go, and supermarket has generally been reliable (in the sense that they will play christina aguilera's "ain't no other man" and rick ross' "hustlin'", mixed with old skool hip hop and funk), so we headed there. it was a BUST. it was completely empty, there was some kind of weird sausage fest happening in the middle of the empty dancefloor, with a bunch of frat dudes dancing in a circle doing weird frat dude things, and when dr. rei requested rick ross from dj abdominal, he was kinda rude and she got shot down. dear dj abdominal: when the dancefloor is EMPTY, take a motherf**king request!
so we headed to octopus, which had been pretty good to us last friday. this friday, not so much. the dj was jason palma, and while hottie mchothot bouncer was still there, it was pretty much an all disco line up. i HATE disco. i hate dancing to disco, listening to disco, talking about disco, and all disco-related ephemera.
we were getting pretty desperate, so we went on a hunch and checked out big primpin' at stones place, a bar we actually really like. we walked in to the sounds of luda and pharell's "moneymaker" which is a fairly reliable hit that i enjoy dancing to. things were looking up! it's basically a gay night where they play bling hop and destiny's child and stuff. the dj couldn't mix a cake. plus, he played too many of the same top40 hiphop tunes in a row...and he let them play out wicked long. dear random big primpin' dj: WE DON'T EVER NEED TO HEAR THE THIRD VERSE. cut that s**t out, son! hearing the third verse is the kiss of death. as is hearing "brown eyed girl" at a bar. thankfully, that didn't happen...but he didn't switch up the tempos or the tunes enough. dr. rei again requested rick ross and got shot down. it was tragic. the next dj who stepped up played possibly the worst set i've ever heard. and he's kinda known, the dj is called rory them finest. dr. rei has heard him before and says he's not always that brutes, but last night was a poor, poor, POOR show. he's also apparently diplo's best friend. DIPLO WAS THERE LAST NIGHT.
here's something you have to know about me and my associate, dr. rei. when we come up in contact with minor celebrities, it amps up my natural raucousness and obnoxious, and ratchets up dr rei's somewhat more latent obnoxiousness big time. one time we saw greg nori of treblecharger in the annex, which a) ellicited paroxysms of laughter b) planted the brilliant idea of following him down the street strumming imaginary guitars and singing their classic breakthrough hit, "red". i'm not sure that is a picture of greg nori, as when you google "greg nori" you first get a bunch of pictures of greyhounds, and glamour shots of greyhounds, no less.
so, seeing diplo made my anger at the craptastic djing last night go into overdrive. and i was like, "i'm going to ask diplo why he sucks!" and dr. rei was like, "no!" and then i was like, "get him to sign something" and dr. rei was like, "nooo!" but then we both got mad because diplo wouldn't give us the time of day. then i was going to confront diplo about whether he and m.i.a. were still an item, about why he loves that band css so much, which dr. rei assured me was going to be the kiss of death, but by the time i had hatched that brilliant plan, diplo had slipped off into the night like the spectacular weasel he is. sadly, the only question that didn't occur to me, was to ask whether he considered himself a musical neo-colonial-imperalist a la ry cooder. D'OH!
so we stayed until they closed the bar out and turned the lights on. two members of our party were DEAD-SET on going to this peripheral acquaintance of mine, k's party. now, i LOATHE his so-called "parties". they suck. they suck long, and hard, and epic. but i couldn't convince them otherwise, because they were just desperate to do something after the bar and we didn't know of any after-hours boozecans cuz we're not hep to that scene. the whole cab ride over i was fuming about being dragged to this party of doom and decimation. but at a certain point, i decided to be a "good sport" in signature karl lagerfeld fashion, which means i'm still fuming, but now i want the vindication of being right, so i see things out to the very end. i really really love being right. and oh, how right i was. it was a den of inequity. you just stepped into the space, your eyes were assaulted and burning with cigarette smoke, and it felt like sket-ball city. i was giving the "cut" sign from the moment i stepped into the door and was begging to leave. we stayed about half an hour and then made a speedy exit. i admit that it was fun because i was there with a solid crew of people that i love (roomie, the boy, montreal friend, etc), but it wasn't fun fun, it was a flirtation with fun, a shadow of what fun can be.
the evening ended with us coming home and me eating a grilled cheese sandwich, and a softball size serving of cold turkey breast.
tonight we're having our anti-nye's hooha. which involves lolling around in our pajamas, eating and watching tv, and we're having a few people over so that it doesn't get too insular. for breakkie i'm making corned beef hash with over easy fried eggs or poached eggs. then i made a bunch of grazing food for us to nibble on all night. i made a hot spinach dip to be served with pita chips. guacamole and nacho chips. a veggie tray with asparagus, beans, grape tomatoes, carrots and broccoli with green goddess dressing and bagna cauda for dipping. and smores pie. and we might order pizza too. either way, it's schluff-fest 2007!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!