So if you wondered where I was all week, the short answer is, NYC, with no real internet beyond DJ Cracky B (my trusty blackberry—who gets such a cool name partly because, on a different trip, he took a dunk in a New York City toilet and emerged still able to text and take blurry pictures of people I swear are celebrities.)
I stayed with Karen, and she is hip deep in researching her next book and I had businessy stuff to do every day, but ALL our evenings were free. We decided we should do the CHEESIEST MOST OBNOXIOUS NYC things HUMANLY possible. Like, really, we were gonna live the cliché. It was in this spirit that we went to a current hot spot for People-Cooler-Than-Me, Minetta Tavern. To give you an idea, Karen wanted to eat there for her birthday, and the only reservation they could get on the weekend was for 10:30 PM. SO!
Minetta Tavern is the home of the 26 dollar burger pictured above, which, paying TWENTY SIX AMERICAN GREEN FOLDY DOLLARS for a hamburger is ALREADY just SO obnoxious, really…but there was NO WAY we were getting in. SO I attempted my VERY FIRST BRIBE. The place with packed with standers arounders and hopers, but we were undaunted. We bribed a waiter to skank us some seats at the bar.
I am NOT a good briber. Like, a GOOD briber, I think, has slicked back hair and presses the waiter’s hand in a cool, friendly manner, and there is a PACKET OF MONEY in the hand and the good briber says something like, “Are you SURE there is no table?” while making significant eyebrows.
Me? I held up my little packet of money and said, “Would bribing you work?” and he said, “Yes. Indeed it would.” A couple of minutes later, we had seats.
It was, to be fair, an extremely delicious burger…
For our next obnoxious New York trick, we decided to sight a celebrity. We picked Susan Sarandon, mostly because we knew where she would be, and it sucks to go celebrity sighting and have no one truly famous show up to be obligingly sighted. Karen’s editor is a BIG supporter of the Lower East Side Girl’s Club, and she told us about this really fun and rowdy charity event, and we DID sight Susan Sarandon as she was crowned queen of Mardis Gras—- actor Luis Guzman was made King. Mission accomplished!
ALAS, we accidentally helped raise money for a REALLY good cause, which is NOT obnoxious at all, and so it was technically a thematic violation. But it is one I find I can live with—especially since I felt in Karmic DEBT after spending 26 bucks on a burger….
Better pictures of the event are here. You can actually see which one is Susan Sarandon and which one is Luis Guzman, which seems like a NO BRAINER unless you are my phone.
Then window shopping on 5th Avenue. Really, to be truly obnoxious, we should have BOUGHT a ton of things and swanned around with HUGE Saks and Tiffany’s bags, but when I asked Scott, he said he felt unwilling to sell the house to help our THEME WEEK progress. Men can be so unreasonable! I had to pass on the animal art purses, even the SUPER CUTE frog above, and, SADLYSADLYSADLY I also could not get the SHOES below. Which, allow me to say, WOWSA and YUM.
I suppose that was a mercy, since according to the window they are not really for WALKING on… More like, if you are having one of your team of body-servants buff your heels while idly wondering what shoes to wear while sexy-crawling about naked save for your shorter mink coat, then 1) You lead a VERY different life than I do and 2) here are your Go To shoes…
Riding the White Tiger in an Opium Den seemed like our next, logical step. But that’s illegal. SO instead we went to a hookah bar and pretended. This is Karen puffing on some delicious citrusy something, and may I say, as an EX SMOKER, how much I LOVE HOOKAH BARS? You get about half the pleasure of smoking without the hugely addictive drug reactivating my quasi-dormant nico-yearnings, and as a bonus, you come out smelling like a orange grove instead of an ashy corpse.
For our final evening, we decided that since we are writers, we owed it to Dylan Thomas et al to drink ourselves to death. SO it was off to White Horse Tavern where purple face guy popped up like a muppet and got his head in there just as I was snapping the DJ!
We did NOT drink ourselves to death—-we TRIED! We DID! But after two Manhattans that tasted like diesel fuel (WHAT IS IN A MANHATTAN? GAH!!!! I felt obligated to order them, given the setting but PHEW!!!! Perhaps I should not have trusted the well brand? But truthfully? I didn’t know actually what liquor was IN a Manhattan so I could specify…), I got sleepy. We abandoned the notion to go home and watch Boardwalk Empire on HBO instead. Oh, the glamour!