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A Day in The Life: Solo Saturday

A Day in The Life: Solo Saturday

(Editor’s Note: Since SO is out of town, I have been ravaging the city bachelor style for the last five days.  I thought since I’ve been so lazy I should emit a special weekend post giving a glimpse into the bacchanalia – do not try this at home)

9:38 AM: Awaken early and clear-headed, even after a wild 6:00 PM dinner the previous night that included an entire Corona and some lamb vindaloo.  First time with the lamb ‘lol, pretty tasty.  Props to the lady at the restaurant who dropped the history of vindaloo on us as we left.  Knowing a little about the culture that developed your favorite animal/hot sauce/bread dish really adds to the ingestion experience.

loodicrously delishus


9:48 AM: Lot of shit to deal with today – exterminators coming to drop some precautionary bedbug bombs, sometime between 9:00 AM and 12:00 Noon.  Since when do exterminators need a 3 hour window like the fucking cable guys?  I didn’t realize exterminating was a monopoly business that could hold an entire apartment building hostage on a muggy August weekend?

9:50 AM: Survey the apartment’s landscape: 309 napkins in various states of use, several bags from well-respected chain restaurants, 14 empty jugs of wine, persistent (and sadly, permanent) cat odor, garbage cans overflowing, unopened mail covering every available flat surface.  Fuck.

9:51 AM: It’s time to get straight gangster on this shithole.  Throw all garbage outside, where it is already 134 degrees with 170% humidity.  Don’t see any exterminators, maybe they start upstairs?

10:20 AM: Fire up the dreaded device: the shredder.  Musical accompaniment: Chubb Rock (“Treat ‘Em Right” is horrificly underrated.)  Determine that if casinos simply sent me a check for the amount they spend on printing, postage etc for every offer they send me, my income solely from gambling mailings would be $117,000 annually.

10:45 AM: Shredder making odd noises and possibly emitting some smoke.  Hmmm….actually was just a small cloud caused by the extreme humidity and a temperature inversion.  Crisis averted.

10:53 AM: Review another casino offer where they will give me $1,200 in chips just to show up.  Another says I get a $1,000 Saks gift card just for walking into their casino.  Come to the conclusions that: 1) I am a terrible gambler, and 2) Gift card is meaningless as I wear the same shorts every day and alternate one of two t-shirts.

11:15 AM: Man I’m fucking starving – where are those bastards?  I’ve got to get out of here for two hours after they spray their noxious mixtures all over the place, so that’s when I need to eat to kill time.  A shower would be a good thing, but I don’t seize the moment.

11:16 AM: I don’t think they’re coming, so if I keep going this place will be sparkling clean, I can grab a burrito and take a well-deserved nap.  I’ll shower after I eat as I’m certain I will sweat away 8-9 pounds just walking to Chipotle in this concrete inferno.

11:45 AM: Notice eight people angrily sitting on stoop as I take out the last seven bags of shreddings.  They tell me the exterminators are late.  No shit – if they aren’t here in ten minutes I’m out of this motherfucker.

11:55 AM: As I head out to Chipotle, I see the dreaded visage of extremely-late-in-the-three-hour-window-arriving exterminators.  They may as well have been terminators – now I wasn’t going to be able to shower AND eat a ‘rito while enjoying some Talk Soup.

11:56 AM: Conclude my day is fucked.  Sweat dripping from ears only 40 seconds into my eight minute walk.

11:59 AM: Seek out shade and water.

12:01 PM: Wallet now entirely soaked in sweat.  Am leaving Hansel and Gretelish trail of sweat in my wake should I get lost.

12:04 PM: Chipotle, or an unoriginal mirage, appears on the horizon (barely visible through the humidity and suffering.)

12:05 PM: No line at noon?  Clearly everyone else died in transit.

12:15 PM: Return trip goes smoothly, my electrolyte levels should return to normal after a couple of IVs.

12:16 PM: Sulk momentarily at the thought of ‘terminators interrupting my meal.

12:17 PM: Grapefruit Izze is more manly than it sounds.  And delicious.

Surprisingly refreshing and non-ghey
Surprisingly refreshing and non-ghey

12:25 PM: Joel McHale is fucking hilarious.  Seriously.  Soup and Chipot is good for the soul.  Ponder how McHale will balance The Soup and new (and already critically well-regarded) sitcom Community?

12:45 PM: Maybe those fucking exterminators bailed since they were late?

12:52 PM: Assume nap-taking position.

12:53 PM: Knock, knock.  Fuck.

12:54 PM: Throw The Cat That Is Afraid Of Everything out on the patio.  15% chance he’ll make a run for it and be lost forever.  Fingers crossed.

12:55 PM: Realize that fear of paper, shadows, etc. doesn’t bode well for impulsive decision to scale six foot walls and explore the neighborhood.  Dammit.

1:00 PM: Barred from the house for two hours.  Standing outside in sweltering heat, stuffed to the gills with chicken/cheese/rice/tortilla/chips/salsa, wearing clothes from two days ago and in desperate need for of a shower.

1:01 PM: Note that hair looks as if I’ve just administered a can or so of mousse to it.  A health-conscious cannibal would have to blot me down with napkins before consuming me.

1:02 PM: Decide to man up and seize the day.

1:05 PM: Goddamit, is it raining?  Or did the humidity finally say fuck it and officially turn into water?

1:06 PM: Wonder if there’s a scientific explanation for how it’s both raining and getting hotter and humider?  Of the 100% wetness of my clothing, I can’t clearly break down the responsible party, but I would estimate it’s 78% sweat, 22% rain.

1:07 PM: Buy NY Post.

1:10 PM: Buy pint of Stella at Jake’s Saloon.  Make peculiar decision to sit at front of saloon, where it is not air-conditioned.

2:19 PM: Go to restroom.  Observe that I look like heroin addict who’s just run a 10K.  Also note that I haven’t worn anything other than flipflops since returning from Africa (except running shoes when, you know, running).  Flipflops covered in a grimy substance that has the look and viscosity of Predator saliva.

Sweat looks okay on some people
Sweat looks okay on some people

2:30 PM: Hit Best Buy to check out the new shit.  MLB 2K9 looks exactly like an actual baseball game.  If I thought I would devote the seven months needed to play it, I might buy it.  Instead, I will play the Batman: Arkham Asylum demo when the need hits.

2:50 PM: Ten minutes to kill, time to be productive.  Go to the non-judgmental liquor store and pick up a jug of Yellow Tail Cab/Shiraz.  That’s the purple label, yo.  Won’t drink it all, but good to have on hand.

3:00 PM: Return to apartment – it doesn’t even remotely smell like chemicals.  WTF?  They probably just sprayed some tonic water around and charged $21k.  Fucking bedbugs.

3:10 PM: Fucking cat still here.  Dammit.

3:12 PM: Take first of a series of showers.  Estimate that socially acceptable hygiene levels will be restored after the sixth shower.

3:30 PM: Finally, a nap.  Arrrhrhghghgh!  Remember that took all the sheets and stuff off the bed from fear that they actually shoot toxic fireballs into your bed or something.  Now have to remake that shit.

6:00 PM: Finish series of showers.  Rest levels high.  Day looking up.  Time for a trip to the gym.

6:01 PM: Gym?  Or maybe I’ve had enough today, and should order a pizza?

6:01:02 PM: Yes, reward yourself.

6:03 PM: Despite presence of numerous independent and delicious pizzerias, find myself debating offers from two long-time friends (and contributors to obesity): Domino’s and Papa John’s.

6:04 PM: As a healthful compromise, I decide to forgo the spicy italian goodness of PJ’s for some boneless wings and a large thin crust at Domino’s.   The fact that my body had been recently covered in sweat that closely resembled PJ’s garlic sauce also aided my decision.

6:07 PM: Domino’s online ordering is insane.  It shows exactly what’s going on at every step.  Thankfully there’s no “preparer takes care of itchy genitals before assembling your pizza” graphic.

6:18 PM: Pizza arrives, leave solid 23% tip for expediency.  Open Yellow Tail, a large bottle of Poland Springs, and a Diet Coke with Lime.  Keep your options open.

6:20 PM: Click on a Chelsea Lately.  What the fuck is up with this new Time Warner guide/dvr format?  Bring back the old style, I do not approve either user interface or the look of the screen.  I hate the font too.  Realize I should have ordered some Cinnastix.

They tast 15x better than they look
They tast 15x better than they look

6:25 PM: Having eaten a modest 1/3 of the pizza and maybe 34% of the wings, I put the food away.

6:26 PM: What now?  Hmmm, I guess I could play a little online poker while I’m figuring out what to do.  I’d remembered a week or so ago that I had $400 on a site and had run that up a little bit to a couple of grand.

6:30 PM: A $200 sit-n-go fills up.  I theorize that people reach in these situations and take a shot before going out on a Saturday.  (Sit-n-gos are six or nine man tournaments where the top two or three get paid, so a $200 6-man pays $840 for 1st and $360 for 2nd)

7:15 PM: I finish second in two sngs, and am up a couple hondo.

8:20 PM: Fucking A, you know what’s not that far from here?  Atlantic City.  Hmmm….there’s this sweet train now…

8:30 PM: You know what this party needs?  Yep, MC Hammer, Garbage and Kriss Kross.  90’s ruled.

8:43 PM: Pizza now 80% gone.

9:00 PM: Start seeking out any and everyone who might want to make a spur-of-the-moment trip to AC.

9:15 PM: Send text to degenerate I barely know who had drunkenly suggested AC trip a month ago.  No response.

9:34 PM: Incorrectly read train schedule, realize that next one is at midnight.  Shit.

9:45 PM: Nobody’s down with AC.  Where’d all that Yellow Tail go?  Shit, why is my account suddenly down?  I was winning?

The place where good decisions go to die
The place where good decisions go to die

9:57 PM: Pizza is 100% gone.

10:10 PM: Why am I opening the dreaded Online Blackjack application at the poker site?  That’s fucking stupid.

10:16 PM: Maybe some Heavy D & the Boyz will turn this shit around.  You can’t see what I can see.

10:30 PM: Why am I now playing $100/hand online blackjack that I’m 100% sure is rigged?

10:45 PM: Fuck it, will try another $500.  I mean if my bankroll is fucked, who cares?  Probably can’t take the money out anyway with all the legal bullshit going on with online poker – Barney Frank or somebody I think personally looks at all the transfers from those sites, no matter how.  Wait, no, Barney Frank is a proponent of online poker.  So maybe Maxine Waters reviews the monetary situation or something.  Whatevs, it’s not looking good for the kid.

11:03 PM: Miraculously win 8 hands in a row, several at table max.  Even more miraculously, quit the stupid blackjack game.  Look at account and relieved to find I have exactly what I started the night with.

11:08 PM: Head back to the non-judgmental liquor store for another jug of Y-Tail.  Won’t drink it all, but good to have on hand.

11:15 PM: Wait for $200 sng to fill up.

12:03 AM: Win $200 sng for $840.  Fuck $200 sngs – apparently too easy for me.  Wait for $300 sng to fill up.

1:20 AM: Win $300 sng for $1260.  Wait for another $300 sng to fill up.

1:31 AM: Put the following ingredients in a tortilla: boneless chicken nuggets, wing sauce, one slice american cheese, one bag of Cosi potato chips.  Surprisingly delicious and life-affirming.

2:10 AM: Win $300 sng for $1260.  $300 sngs are for pussies (also no one is playing them now), but there are 4 people sitting waiting for a $500 sng to fill up.

3:12 AM: Win $500 sng for $2100.  Man, I’m pretty fucking tired.  Where did all that Y-Tail go?  There’s only about 1/4 jug left?  I probably spilled a lot of that.

3:30 AM: Bust out of my last sng.  Pretty good run though, aside from momentary blackjack idiocy.  Up $3,500 for the night.  All effectively imaginary since withdrawals might have one shipped to Gitmo, but still an uplifting moment. But tired as shit, b.

I’m going out of town Thursday but there will be some 2-3 real-assed posts on this sit this week.  And then things will get really real once August is over and the whole world starts reading goofy websites with abandon once again.

Til then,


The Events of Last Friday

The Events of Last Friday

So as you may recall, I had a goal of running 100 miles in May.  A modest goal, no doubt, but for one so ample of belly and short of restraint, it would prove difficult.  And so it was – as the LA/Vegas/AC trips cost me 10 days of running.  I still had 20 miles to go after running a 6 miler Wednesday.  How best to apportion those remaining miles when you are sore as hell with four days to go?

Four 5 milers seemed logical, but I sensed that I needed a day off in there, as I am lazy and needed some drinks too.  Two 7 milers and a 6?  Nah – I went straight Hoover High/Slim Shady on the motherfucker.  Two a day Thursday.  8 mile.  Central Park outer on Saturday (with no shirt, giving something back to the bear lovers out there) and a little 6 miler on the t-mill sunday.  Done.  Now I’m shooting for another 50 before the next trip to The Cove on the 12th.  We’ll see, it’s possible I’ll need full shin/calf transplants soon (getting old blows).

So after the second 4 mile run on Thursday, I decided to reward myself with a little bit of wine and some homemade tacos.  Settled in to watch The Cougar and So You Think You Can Dance.  I know that night sounds pretty wild, but honestly that’s kind of the norm around here.  Unemployed life is basically Plato’s Retreat reincarnate – such hedonism will likely result in the fall of society as we know it.  The wine was delightful and was paired well with two Coronas and two enormous Dark and Stormies.  Ultimately, it was one of those nights when you have this conversation:

Me: “I cannot believe it’s 4:00 AM already, I’m not even tired.”

SO: “Yeah, let’s watch Harold & Kumar 2.”

So why am I telling you all this boring shit?  Basically to establish my excuse for not posting on Friday – it’s pretty difficult to post when you wake up at 2:30 PM.  But I did have a pretty sweet day after finally waking up, and it’s the kind of purely NYC day that you can’t experience anywhere else.

A Friday Afternoon in the Life

2:30 PM:  Where to eat?  SO suggested the quaint little French place down the street which serves a pretty strong croque monsieur.  Not a bad idea, but I had a better one.  That’s modest – my idea was essentially a quantum leap forward on the gastonomical spectrum.  NYC has some specific strengths as far as food goes: a wide diversity of offerings, plently of expensive highbrow fare that actually tastes like shit and the occasional hidden delight that gets overexposed and eventually turns shitty.  Cheap, quick food – almost “fast” – is not found in abundance, with the exception of Subway.  (I believe they just opened a Subway in our bathroom)  Anyway, on this fateful Friday afternoon, I recovered a repressed memory at the optimal time (and it didn’t even involve getting beaten with a hanger!).

I recalled seeing a Taco Bell in Union Square.  Now, if you are reading this in Bumfuck, Egypt or wherever, that may not sound like a big deal.  But in NYC, traditional fast food spots are on the major wane – THERE IS NO ARBY’S IN NYC NOW!  Plus, I had stopped into this place (full disclosure: T-Bell/Pizza Hut) when I initially saw it to verify that it was suitable for food consumption.  It was clean, well-lit, had an operating restroom, and only 2-3 homeless people appeared to be squatting there.  Usually I’m not a fan of these “combo” stores – the T-Bell/Dunkin Donuts on 8th and 30th is a less appetizing place to eat than a turkey processing plant – but this place was legit.

And, as you may be aware if you have a television or are otherwise subjected to advertisements, Taco Bell has a new menu item out: the Volcano Double Beef Burrito.  I am morally and contractually obligated to try any new T-Bell item and this thing looked pretty fucking delicious.  Apparently the lava sauce is much hotter than even their Fire sauce (800 Scoville units vs. 500 for Fire) which I find to be decently warm.  Plus – tortilla strips inside the burrito!  Fuck yeah!  I am a big proponent of chips inside burritos, even though this controversial stance has cost me some good standing within the U.S. Burrito Commission.

So how was it?  Well, let me say that the pic below came from (thanks!) – mine definitely didn’t look like this.  Mine looked a lot like a folded up tortilla – literally halfway through I was still all dough.  Was okay once I got to the heart of the matter, but it was no Cheesy Beefy Melt (that thing was uber-delicious but made you feel 1-2 minutes from a myocardial infarction).  I was pretty disappointed, honestly.  Will I try it again?  Maybe, we’ll see.  The T-Bell was decent though; maybe the Pizza Hut classes it up a bit.  Oh yeah – Pizza Hut, how about bringing back the pork topping???  That shit was awesome – thin crust, pork+mushroom was the bomb.


mine looked like this, with the exception of the meat and cheese
Mine looked like this, with the exception of not having the meat or cheese. Lots of tortilla, though

3:30 PM:  What now?  I strongly considered a nap, but we decided to carpe diem the motherfucker.  “Let’s go to Trader Joe’s” she said.  Unsuspecting, I agreed.  Now, I’ve been to Trader Joe’s once before, in LA, and it was a madhouse, but I attributed that largely to the insanely high concentration of granola hippies in California.  In NYC, once the newness wears off, the crowds typically swarm to another hipper, more expensive destination in an effort to attain the holy grail of apparent exclusivity.  Since the NYC Trader Joes had been open for about three years, I wasn’t really sweating it.

Um, I was fucking wrong.  The technical term for it was gagglefuck.  The line permeated through the entire store, to the point where two employees had to walk around with signs on poles showing where the current end of the line was.  The line seriously wove through the entire store, up/down every aisle.  I find the food offerings at TJ’s to be pretty weak, it looked like a bunch of shit you don’t really need (save produce, but I don’t really need that myself) that they wear you down with as you wait in the interminable line.  Since I was all good on the “gorgonzola, organic chicken and pear frozen omelette” front, we decided to get the fuck out of there.


Enjoy your shopping!  Hey, olives stuffed with farm-raised figs!
Enjoy your shopping! Hey, olives stuffed with farm-raised figs!

Props to Trader Joe’s though, for pure marketing brilliance.  They have convinced the masses that they have the highest quality, most environmentally-conscious products at the absolute cheapest prices available on the planet.  You’re doing a great thing by shopping there – getting healthier, reducing dolphin asphyxiation and keeping a few sheckels in your bank account to boot!  Unreal.  Good thing you guys are reading this website, which is free, is full of health tips and is environmentally friendly (I turned off most of the lights to write this.  But since it’s 4:51 AM i guess that doesn’t count for as much).  Whole Foods, you could’ve learned from TJ’s – you wore the mantle of “a little more expensive, but worth it” a little too smugly.

4:00 PM: We stop by the farmer’s market at Union Square.  There is a gentleman in a Boba Fett helmet playing Star Wars tunes on the accordion.  He is accompanied by a homeless man wearing sandals (apparently he was an uninivited guest rapper of sorts – nice dance moves though).  I liked his rendition of the cantina song. 

4:30 PM: Cocktail hour.  I did buy some wine at the Trader Joe’s wine shop.  They have the best wines at the lowest prices!  And they have quirky written signs all over the place with folksy witticisms.  Joy!  Through this experience I learned that “table wine” means “god awful-tasting liquid.”  Got better by the fourth glass, but still.

5:30 PM:  Text some folks, try to line shit up for the evening.  Feeling a bit sleepy.

7:00 PM:  Arise from short nap.  Since 85-90% of my meals consist of some combination of: chicken, hot sauce, rice, tortilla I decided I needed to try a little variety.   Indian food would be a nice departure from my norm, wouldn’t it? I recall something I read on Midtown Lunch.  Phall curry at Brick Lane Curry House is alleged to be the hottest in NYC (they even give you a free beer if you finish it!).  My man C to join us even though he has already eaten and the trip to the dreaded east side will be about 8 hours round trip for him – way to man up C!

7:30 PM:  Have a Dark and Stormy and read some of the internet that I haven’t read yet.

7:52 PM:  Have a Corona (yeah, I’m on a bit of a Corona kick right now) and read some more of the internet.

8:10 PM:  Have a Dark and Stormy and read reviews of this shirt.  Consider buying 3-5 of these shirts.

9:00 PM:  Get our Brick Lane on.  They have a disclaimer that the Phall actually tastes like shit and is just really, really hot.  I love Vindaloo.  Love.  I’m torn, I wanted to try the Phall to see what is what.  Bloody brilliant – a side order of the Phall for $5!  Vindy+Phall = a whole new kind of eating sensation!  Chicken, rice, potatoes, naan – this is a massive departure from my norm!  I’m basically Anthony Bourdain!  (Although I’d probably prefer warthog rectum to some onion/tomato mixture)


The non-burrito
The non-burrito

9:10 PM:  Damn, that Phall shit is hot.  But they are correct, it’s all fire, no real taste.  Reminds me a bit of Dave’s Insanity sauce.  

9:12 PM:  Dude, just drop the pitcher off here, okay?

9:20 PM:  If I had a hat on, I would have sweated through it.  The verdict?  Fucking delicious.  May not need the Phall though, it appears the Vindaloo can stand on its own.  I only ate about 1/5th of the Phall anyway, using it in a condiment-like manner, as this place is Sriracha-free.

9:20 + PM:  I’ve already written 1700+ words on this night, so the rest will have to remain a mystery.  Let’s just say it involved a Trailer Park, a jump rope and three boxes of cat litter.


Chilly17, one who has wasted potential