Me Love You Long Time

Emily and I are finally off to Thailand this morning, and I've been informed that odds are 64% that I'll end up dead or in a Thai prison. Exciting.

While we're licking cheap Asian whiskey off even cheaper 14-year old hooker ass, I don't want anyone to get bored, so here are your options:

1) Check out some of our shining moments from the past 2 months, including the inaugural post and the updates, the night Emily broke her face and the updates for that night as well, and maybe even the time I made fun of AA.

2) Keep up with Vicki, the other Zander, and this guy Craig who are all brilliant.

3) Weep silently to yourself until I return.

I really like choice #3 so let me know if you pick that one, and I'll be back in mid-January with herpes and bird flu for everyone!

I Believe The Children Are Our Future

Yesterday, like millions of others around the world, my family gathered in the name of capitalism, greed, and Santa's birthday. By the time I'd finished opening my gifts I'd already downed two beers and was looking for another.

Eventually we headed over to a gathering at a family friend's place where an adorable little 5-year old named David made the stupid mistake of asking me if I wanted to play his new board game with him. And of course when I'm drinking/drunk I am the most competitive person ever. Even if you're five.

So I totally killed him in the first game, and he looked surprised (has someone been letting this kid win?). After a victory lap around the room that included dirty looks from his parents and assorted other adults, we played another game where once again, I demolished him, and this time he even had help from his 8-year old sister.

Was about to start my second victory lap when he started pointing at me and yelling "Cheater!". Which yeah I totally was, but it's not like the little bastard could prove it. So I started pointing and yelling "Liar!" right back at him. His parents tried to say something about going easy on him because he's 5, but I mumbled something being SO much smarter than their kids and wandered off towards the food.

Hmm now that I read this over one time I'm not sure if this is more about my drinking or my ridiculous immaturity, but I think they're related so I'll keep going.

So yeah, Christmas rocked. And today is Boxing Day which for those who aren't familiar with the history of the United Kingdom, came about because the British needed yet another excuse to drink. Bless them.

He's Making A List...

...and if this picture is any indication, that list includes Jim Beam, Johnny Walker, Jose Cuervo, Jack Daniels...

Well Folks, It's Been Fun

Yesterday my mother finally made it to my blog and read the entire thing.

No comments yet, which probably means she's saving it all for the holiday weekend when we're drunk and there are spectators. Or witnesses, as I like to think of them.

So Much For My Break

Merely hours after proclaiming that I was taking a 3 day break from drinking, I decided that white wine would go great with my three hour lunch.

And who was I really kidding anyway?

And Joining Me In Hell...

After almost a week of mercilessly punishing my liver for crimes it did not commit, I've decided to take a break from drinking until Christmas Eve. And yes, I'm aware that's only a three day break, so fuck off.

In the meantime, it's good to know that some lovely ladies out there are carrying the torch. I've changed the names to protect the assholes.


Floozy: OMG!

Floozy: do u remember walking down the street and hitting that girls crutches!!

Boozy: WHAT

Floozy: holy shit

Floozy: u were like tryin to run down the street and u kept smacking awnings and hitting trashcans

Floozy: and these 2 girls were sitting at this restaurant outside with a pair of crutches leaning against the railing

Floozy: HAHA

Floozy: and u smacked em

Floozy: and knocked em over

Boozy: omg what did the people do

Floozy: they just looked at u like what the fuck, and u kept right on running...haaa, and i say "sorry she didn't mean it"

Boozy: LOL

Boozy: haa....im like out of control

Now It All Makes Sense

Vicki was kind enough to find out who the hell I was IMing with last week. Which is good cause I've always loved nightmares. Thanks, V.

Cure For What Ails Ya

After 5 straight days of boozing I had a very sore throat and I was worried it might develop into something worse. So I did what any responsible drinker would do. I started Monday night off with a glass of scotch. Oh wait did I say responsible drinker? I meant responsible drunk. Either way, my throat felt awesome after just a few sips.

Unfortunately the second stop of the night was an apartment party where no scotch seemed to be available so I just had cranberry-vodkas, since there's like vitamins and stuff in cranberry juice, right? I didn't have time to check the label...

Amazing how there are such good things to be found in alcoholic beverages, eh? If you're having any health problems feel free to email me and I'll let you know what you should be drinking this winter.

Holiday Spirits

Yesterday my mom wanted me to come over in my hungover state to help decorate the Christmas tree.

And if by decorate the Christmas tree she meant drink my scotch and pass out on the couch, then I think we were both really satisfied with the way things worked out.

Do They Think I'm Trashy Yet?

First stop on Saturday night was a co-worker's birthday party. Thought I'd give you guys a few tips on how to proceed in case you find yourself in a similar situation:

• If the party starts at 11, begin drinking at 8. Obviously.
• Only drink 100 proof vodka. Half a bottle, if you have it.
• When you arrive at the bar, loudly exclaim "WHO THE FUCK ARE THOSE OLD PEOPLE?"
• A friend may decide to introduce herself to people she doesn't know as a lesbian. Let her.
• If one of your friends bends the other over and starts simulating a sex act, cheer them on.
• If one of your friends straddles the other and starts simulating a sex act, cheer a little louder.
• Shove your face in your friend's crotch repeatedly. Because that's funny, even when it becomes apparent that no one else got the memo.
• After 90 minutes, stumble away while half-assedly saying goodbye to all of your co-workers.

Seriously though, what about that promotion?

Who Keeps Inviting Me To These Things?

Confirming that Emily does not read my blog very carefully, she made the grievous error of taking me to her company holiday party last night. We met up with Cristin and Jordan and made a rather lame attempt to pretend to eat before we started inhaling alcohol.

Not sure how everyone else at the party felt about me walking around with blinking lights on my nipples all night, but I could tell they loved this conversation:

Emily's Co-worker: So how long are you guys going to Thailand for?
Emily: We're going for about--
Zander: UNTIL WE RUN OUT OF HOOKERS!! AHA! MWAHAHAHAA!


We spent most of the night wandering between the "club" room and the "swing" room, dancing like total assmonkeys in both (Jordan = Best. Dancer. Ever.), and taking breaks to cram all four of us into photo booths so we could immortalize the evening forever.

Quote of the night: Cristin telling me "I read your blog. I know you're not a good person."


Now if you'll excuse me, I should eat something before the boozing begins again at 8.

Come To The Party, But Don't Have Fun

As everyone was gearing up for the company holiday party last night, we seriously got this email from HR:

Although we want everyone to have fun, we just wanted to remind everyone that this is a business affair and you should behave appropriately. If you are interested, here is a helpful link I found about office parties. http://www.applesforhealth.com/busetiq1.html

We all clicked on the link and found ourselves looking at a tutorial on how to behave at a holiday party. Apparently you should mentally replace the word "holiday" with "funeral" and you're all set.

So let's take a look at how I did, starting with number 10 since not only was it the most ridiculous, but it led to any other "mistakes" I might have made.

Mistake No. 10: "Don't have more than two alcoholic beverages and better yet, don't drink at all."

That's cute. Really. Of course I had my two alcoholic beverages within twenty minutes and kept going (lost count after the fourth shot of tequila), and then went around telling everyone that I had already made mistake #10, but I appreciate the suggestion.

Mistake No. 9: The College Bash. Using some of the speech and behavior allowed in college can show immaturity.

So suggesting keg stands and attempting to wear one of the tablecloths as a toga wasn't the right thing to do? Noted. I will totally remember that for 2005.

Mistake No. 8: Hanky-panky. No longer is an office party an excuse for employees to become intimate.

Okay, but we all know this one doesn't count if they're really hot.

Mistake No. 7: About My Pay. An employee who raises pay or other personal issues at a company party is marked as a person who does not understand what is and is not appropriate at social events.

Now this one was easy to avoid since everyone including myself knows damn well that I'm not even worth my current salary.

Mistake No. 6: Who's the Boss? It is amazing, but some young professionals do not introduce themselves to senior managers at a company party.

And what better way to introduce yourself to that Vice President you haven't met than "Hey you, wanna do a shot?"

Mistake No. 5: Me, Me, Me. Kennedy says self-centered young professionals will have trouble working in teams with others...and co-workers and bosses pick up on this.

I have to admit this was a serious problem, not only because I'm the most awesome person I know (and who wouldn't want to talk about that?) but because many of my coworkers are so boring that several times I considered sticking one of the toothpicks through my cornea just so I'd have something else to focus on.

Mistake No. 4: The Business-talking Bore. Some young professionals let ambition drive them. They don't know how to enjoy conversation unless it is only about business.

Ha. Funny because a) I just had to look up the meaning of "ambition" and b) I don't even talk about work IN the office. So I pretty much managed to avoid this one, unless yelling "HEY MARKETING, WHY DO YOU SUCK SO MUCH?!" across the room counts.

Mistake No. 3: T-shirts and Sandals. Inappropriate dress at an office party draws attention, but the wrong kind.

Then you guys are sooo lucky my crotchless jeans were retired earlier this week, and I just wore my "FRIENDLY WHEN DRUNK" t-shirt to work a a few days ago.

Mistake No. 2: Forgetting the Boss is Watching. Senior managers pay attention to how people handle themselves at corporate events.

Hmm. So melodramatically exclaiming to the head of HR "Oh DEAR. I think someone over there just broke rule number SIX!" wasn't the right thing to do?

Mistake No. 1: The Blow-off. The biggest error is not going to an office party that is a "must-attend" event.

And after all of that I bet you wish you had left this one off the list, cause I didn't really wanna go in the first place anyway.

Tragedy Strikes

I regret to inform everyone that my infamous "jeans with the holes in the crotch" are officially out of commission. They did not survive the latest machine-washing, and are officially "crotchless pants" at this point. Please, a moment of silence to remember how well these jeans embodied my own trashiness. Thank you.

Jeans With The Holes In The Crotch, 2002-2004

R.I.P.

...For Richer And For Drunker...

Yesterday my mother and her longtime boyfriend got married (purely for legal and tax reasons, she assured me), and surprisingly the drunken star of the day wasn't in the family.

While we were waiting outside the 'chapel' with a nice, well-dressed young couple beside us, a charming caucasian woman with disheveled hair, baggy pink sweatpants, and what appeared to be the latest fashions from the Salvation Army winter line practically stumbled out of an office nearby. Spotting the young bride, she actually started yelling as she walked away, "Aww yeah you look so happy now. WELL IT AIN'T GONNA LAST. And you look so pretty. JUST WAIT TIL YOU GET PREGNANT!!"

Ah well, such are the perils of getting married at City Hall with the riffraff.

*********************************

Once the official stuff was over, we headed to a nice restaurant nearby, and spent 3 hours boozing, eating, boozing some more, and joking about how many foxes probably died to make my mother's new coat. Of course by the time it was over I was too canned to go to back to work, even though it was only a few blocks away, so I went home, no one realizing that I still had the marriage certificate in my bag. You know that shit is gonna be used as a coaster for a vodka tonic by Saturday night.

Sidenote: So typical of my family that the wedding itself cost $35, and the alcoholic lunch afterwards probably cost a good $2000. We're real sentimental folk.

Conversations With St. Nick, Pt. II

Even though the last time didn't work out so well, I figured I would give Santa another shot -- I mean fat people are supposed to have good personalities and everything to make up for being fat, right? Unfortunately, things took another turn for the worse...

Zander: do you wanna get a drink?

SantaClaus: Don't you know already?

Zander: DO YOU WANT TO GET A DRINK??

SantaClaus: I could tell you, but that would spoil all of the fun.

Zander: seriously, are you flirting with me?

SantaClaus: Well that's hard to say. Ask an elf.

Zander: i knew you had a midget fetish or something, why don't you just admit you're a fat perv?

SantaClaus: Take a moment, collect your thoughts, and try asking me another way. O.K. ?

Zander: and i bet after a few sips of the ol whisky those reindeer start to look pretty good

SantaClaus: Oh dear.

Zander: you know what, fuck you santa

SantaClaus: I don't respond to that kind of language.

Zander: suck it.

SantaClaus: Well, that's it. I'm sorry, I cannot instant message with you any longer.

Zander: what? santa? hello?

SantaClaus: Santa is no longer signed on to IM.

Zander: NOOOOOOOO!!

And So The Holiday Parties Begin...

Sometimes I think that all of these holiday parties are some conspiracy to weed out the alcoholics and addicts within the organization. For example, an email from a friend about last night:

had my holiday party. open bar. lost $50, my gold bracelet and woke up with a coworker in my bed. and that's all i remember.

i think i offered to jump out of my boss' birthday cake naked. holy crap. how do i still have a job.

I doubt I'll come anywhere close to that at my company party on Thursday night, but here's hoping. Although I think this story from another Zander's blog (confusing, I know) takes the cake:

...when I was pulling out of the Government Center parking garage, I saw what I thought was a body on the corner, surrounded by police and an ambulance. When the light changed and I got closer, I saw that it was my co-worker, passed out in a pool of his own vomit. Alcohol poisoning. He spent the night in Mass General.

Now that's just dumb. But funny, cause it's not me.

Thanks, I Was Wondering If I Served Any Purpose In Life

Emily: hey -- can you put an ad on your blog for me?

Zander: ??

Emily: i have a 40 in my fridge i want to give away

Emily: to the first taker

Zander: what on earth are you talking about

Emily: i have 40 ounces of malt liquor

Emily: in my fridge

Emily: we will never drink it

Emily: and i'd like to post a classified on your blog for someone to take it

Zander: . . .

Save Money This Holiday Season!

Sorry, but this is the funniest thing ever. Especially if you're evil (and a little bit drunk) like me.

Crackheads Represent

Reasons why everyone on Saturday night must have thought we were on some hardcore drugs:

• Emily and I trashing the Christmas decorations (breaking candy canes, pounding the walls, tearing down ribbons) simply because we could

• [A friend who will remain unnamed] lying on her back with her legs in the air, demanding someone give her something, anything, so she could demonstrate her ability to pop objects out of her cooch

• Emily and I starting a water fight which resulted in me getting soaking wet, as well as some slightly damp and really pissed off bystanders

• Phil wearing an orange turtleneck with short sleeves (as in an orange turtleneck with short sleeves) that only someone on some serious acid would have thought was a good idea (sorry, dude)

• Jessica pointing at a guy she had just met 4 minutes earlier, yelling "Somebody get this stiff a drink!"

• Did I mention this was a house party where we didn't know anyone?
  

This night was made possible by my brother and the 100 proof bottle of Stoli he gave me for my birthday. You idiot.

Alas, So True

Zander: dude no one's going out tonight cause of the rain or something

Joe: yeah, i'm not going out either

Zander: that's lame, i was ready to get drunk

Joe: you're not going out then?

Zander: nope, just gonna party it up tomorrow i guess

Joe: and what will you write about in your blog now...

Joe: nothing!

Zander: jerk.

Joe: HAHAHAAAAHA

Conversations With St. Nick

I was alerted to the fact that Santa Claus himself is on IM. I'm sure some people think it's just some automated IM bot that doesn't actually understand what you're saying, but my Christmas spirit came through and we had a nice chat...


Zander: what's UP dude

SantaClaus: Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas! I'm here on AIM! So, have you been naughty or nice?*

Zander: very very naughty

SantaClaus: Oh dear! Well, there is still time to get on my good list.

Zander: uh right...SO...wanna get a drink?

SantaClaus: Hmm. Why don't you type 'music', maybe that will put you in the Christmas spirit

Zander: listen, let's be serious...i doubt a chubs like you gets the chance to go out and party very often, so why don't we hit up a few bars?

SantaClaus: It depends if Christmas is coming or not

Zander: but you have all that midget slave labor to build the toys, let's hang out

SantaClaus: Oh my. That is a mouthful. I'm so busy typing to so many children, could you send me a slightly smaller note?

Zander: heh...mouthful...i always knew you were a perv, sneaking into kids bedrooms and all that

SantaClaus: Goodness, that's too much for me to read.

Zander: so you're fat AND stupid

SantaClaus: Well, I am trying to learn.


*His lame attempts to sell me goods and services have been removed from the transcript

Alcoholic Math

In case anyone other than Emily is interested in this stuff, here's one for you...

Jessica X 6 drinks + 0 dinner = Beligerence.

Evidence: After 4 vodka drinks and 2 beers on an empty stomach, Jessica spots a man in a PITT (University of Pittsburgh, for the uninformed) sweatshirt. She then begins yelling "SHIT ON PITT! SHIT ON PITT!" for entirely too long, until not only does the guy take his sweatshirt off, but the bartender tells her to shut the fuck up.


Similarly: Zander X 6 drinks + 0 dinner = Me barely getting to work in time for my 10am meeting.

My Mom Could Have Told Me That

What kind of drunk are you? Sloppy Drunk You are a liability in public places, because you tend to elbow glasses, knock into wobbly tables and back into waitresses holding full pitchers. You probably wake up in the mornings wondering where you got all those bruises. You're embarrassing, but amusing to watch as well.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

Pretty accurate. Although I haven't knocked over any waitresses in weeks.

Thanks For Sharing

Just received another reader review on Blogorama and thought I'd comment on all of them so far...

Rated 10 on Monday, 22 November 2004 -- Hilarious. Although for the sake of his body I hope he's exaggerating about at least some of it! Rated by Elaine

No Elaine, I'm not exaggerating at all. And please, don't worry about my body. I don't!

Rated 9 on Wednesday, 24 November 2004 -- pretty damn funny, loses a point for being a total idiot, but gets 9 for being an entertaining moron. Rated by Adam

Thanks Adam. And oh yeah, fuck you. Next time I want a 10.

Rated 10 on Wednesday, 08 December 2004 -- I love readind the drunksploitations and makes me know that there's someone out there who drinks more than I do thereby making me feel better about myself. And really, isn't that what we all need? Rated by rosey

Hold on there a second Rosey, don't go feeling all better about yourself just yet. In case you haven't been keeping up, I'm actually rather awesome and devastatingly handsome. And in case you need me to knock you down another notch, I eat whatever I want, never go to the gym, and don't gain a pound.


If any more of you wonderful readers want to review or comment on my blog, just click here and I'm sure I'll have an opportunity to berate you within the next few months. Cheers!

It Could Happen To You

As we approach the season for office celebrations and the like, I thought I'd offer up my favorite cautionary tale, in the hopes that anyone reading will learn something, and be careful with how much alcohol they consume in the presence of their coworkers.

Aw who am I kidding, I love to hear about you guys fucking up. But this is too classic not to share...

The Culprit: Young assistant media buyer

The Scene: Fox upfront party at NYC restaurant The Boathouse

The Incident: A girl who was apparently fresh out of college and relatively new to the media scene attended a Fox party where she proceeded to bring new meaning to the word shit-faced. She got absolutely hammered, fell down and cut her leg open, threw up, and then passed out on a white leather couch where she then shit herself. The girl had to be carted away by paramedics.

As you can imagine, on this morning in late May 2004, I pushed aside all of the important work I do each day (haha I almost typed that without laughing) and followed this story very closely via Defamer and Gawker. See their very serious journalism at work here and here.


There's a lesson to be learned here kids, and that lesson is: It Really Sucks To Be Her.

"Do you drink?"

Had to go get my foot x-rayed and checked yesterday to make sure I won't be a gimp for life. Actual conversation with a doctor while he was asking me the standard questions:

Doctor: So, do you drink?

Zander: Uh, yes.

Doctor: What, just on special occasions and stuff?

Zander: Those too...

Doctor: So you're a social drinker?

[Zander remains silent, hoping that 'binge drinker', 'drunk' or 'functional alcoholic' might be the next option, without having to say it himself]

Doctor: Okay, then social drinker. Any history of heart problems in your family...

[Zander breathes a sigh of relief]

Birthday Present from Gawker

Gawker has been kind enough to give me a belated birthday present in the form of publishing me and Vicki's Tony Danza spotting in the latest edition of Gawker Stalker:

Grabbed drinks with a friend at the Tribeca Grand Hotel last night, when all five foot six of Tony Danza strolled in with a chick who we agreed was maybe better looking than 50% of the population, but not nearly hot enough for someone of his legendary fame and stature. He pretended not to hear us singing the 'Who's The Boss' theme song a couple times in a row and making references to 'She's Outta Control' -- he's a good sport.

That is totally C-list fame by association, eat your hearts out!

When The Pimp's In Da Crib Ma, Drop It Like It's Hawwt...

So Saturday night was my big birthday bash at Flow with 80 of my closest friends. Everyone was actually pretty well-behaved, but keep in mind this is all relatively speaking.

Started the night at my place (see picture) where I insisted on wearing my "Rock Out With Yer Cock Out" trucker hat, "Without ME it's just AWESO" t-shirt, and my trashy jeans with the holes in the crotch. Jess said I looked like Paris Hilton, which is the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me, since I've always wanted to be a stupid spoiled whore just like her, as everyone knows.

We had our standard drunken subway ride into the city, complete with Jess telling a woman with a baby that she wanted to have brown babies just like hers, and Emily chasing a huge rat around the platform.

I've attempted to narrow my summary of the rest of the night down to the 10 most notable things about my birthday:

10) Bex biting me (for no apparent reason)

9) Olga's conversation with my brother's girlfriend...

Olga: Are you half Asian?

GF: No.

Olga: Oh. That's too bad.

8) My brother's friend deciding it was a good idea to just grab a beer from the neighboring table, almost starting a fight with some mongoloids who were definitely on the wrong side of the Hudson River

7) Playing with Domini's titties

6) Playing with Olga's titties

5) Olga biting me (this ranks higher because she left a nasty bruise)

4) Olga to my friend Liran: "You're not Jewish, you're blond."

3) My amazing lack of tact...

Zander: DUDE YOU'RE LATE. WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU? WHAT YOU HAD SOMETHING BETTER TO DO THAN COME TO MY BIRTHDAY??

Friend: Uh actually, I was breaking up with my girlfriend.

Zander: Um...

2) Bex booting in the champagne bucket...and then denying that this had happened until the bartender came over and said "Hi I just saw you throw up in the champagne bucket. Please don't do that."


...and the #1 thing about my birthday celebration was...


1) Playing with Domini's titties.


There were other things, like one guest kicking another in the face and what not, but we expect that to heal pretty nicely, so it didn't make the list. Click here for plenty of pictures (login/registration possibly required, but definitely worth it)

Woke up feeling like ass, so naturally my first drink at brunch with my family contained champagne, Bombay Gin AND Creme de Cassis. A couple of bottles of wine later, my mom says "Oh, try and keep 1pm on the 15th free, Fred and I are going to get married." Thanks for the heads up, mother!

So What Are They Trying To Say?

What I've received for my birthday so far:

• 50 mL bottle of Stoli (perfect for those late night subway rides
• 750 mL bottle of 100 proof Stoli (perfect, in general)
• A "How Drunk" set of 6 coasters with definitions of the different stages of drinking -- Sober, Tipsy, Plastered, Drunk, Shit-faced, and Hungover
• A birthday card implying that I will die young due to my alcohol abuse (from family friends, no less!)
• Large amounts of money -- which will inevitably be used to buy booze

Proper update on the big birthday bash coming soon, once someone tells me what happened.

Birthday Week Celebration Continues...

Well, I'm still way too hungover to write a coherent post, but just wanted to send a few messages out to people before we all start drinking again in 3 hours:

Note to Jess -- Acting out very graphic lesbian sex on the dance floor does not count as a dance routine. Stop it.

Note to Domini -- Remember when I was acting all drunk and obnoxious and told you that your titties better be on full display for my big bash tonight? Well I was dead serious. We better see those puppies out and proud or you're not getting past the bouncer.

Note to Self -- There are more appropriate times to tell everyone's favorite retard joke ("What's better than winning a silver medal at the Special Olympics?") than while running drunkenly through a busy intersection. Show some sensitivity.

Note to Random Bouncer -- In case you were wondering what's #1 on the List of Things You Don't Say to a Girl You Just Met, I can assure you that it's your line: "If you went on a date with me you'd wake up with a burning asshole." No, seriously.

Note to Vicki -- Somehow I'm pretty sure you're the only person who could elicit that response from a bouncer.

Note to Emily -- Quit trying to stick your finger in my butt. In public, anyway. Woof.

Maybe He's Got A Point

Zander: yeah i want to save my energy for tomorrow
Zander: don't wanna burn out
Phil: and so you're starting at 9 at Jess's house
Phil: good plan
Phil: a) whenever you start before 10 - bad news
Phil: b) whenever you pour own drinks - worse news
Zander: i don't think i'm gonna drink on the subway though!
Phil: rrrriiiiiiiggghhhhtt....
Phil: not convinced, sorry...
Phil: but if keeping your alcohol consumption only to places where you're legally allowed to consume it means "saving your energy," then go right ahead

"Hold me close, young Tony Danza"

Met up with Vicki to grab drinks and dinner (w/ more drinks) after work. First stop was the Tribeca Grand Hotel, where moments after we sat down, Tony Danza walked in with some not-hot-at-all chick and sat down nearby.

Vicki promptly started belting out "Hold me close, young Tony Danza..." as well as a few Who's The Boss impressions. Her? From out of town? Nooo.

Then headed to some cheesy Italian place in Little Italy and had some cheap white wine with our dinner. Vicki claimed to not be drunk at all, so I guess we have to chalk the following conversation up to being dumb:

Me: She's really cool.
Vicki: So I've heard!
Me: Yeah.
Vicki: Wait, you've never met her??
Me: Huh? Of course I've met her. You're the one who said "so I've heard".
Vicki: Oh. Right.


The night ended with a subway ride home, where some kids were about to get into a fight because some were Puerto Ricans and some were Dominicans. Obviously.

And in the end, isn't that the great thing about New York? All the racial harmony? And Tony Danza?

Ah, The Memories

Sorry, felt the need to post this.

I just love this picture from the night Emily had to get stitches. This is only moments before the blessed incident, where we have Emily who is clearly canned, on the subway, clutching a plastic bottle of Ruby Red Vodka, and harassing some unsuspecting teen on the subway.

Pure class.

Colin Farrell = Awesome

I know what you're thinking. No, he's not awesome, because his movies suck. I was one of the unlucky few who saw 'Alexander' this weekend, thinking that it couldn't really be as bad as everyone was saying, and I was so so wrong. I would rather have screws drilled into my forehead, or even go a week without drinking before having to sit through that mess again.

Having said all that he's my hero otherwise, as evidenced by this quote from Oliver Stone on their first encounter:

“The first meeting was a disaster. [Farrell] was a skinny little Dublin boy, drunk as a skunk — breaking glasses in the restaurant, with his hand on my thigh the whole time. I couldn’t stand him."

I can't wait until I have the balls to show up to major job interviews completely smashed, break shit, and grope my interviewer. And STILL get the job. Rock on, Colin. Just don't make any more movies.

Birthday Week Begins...

A pretty quiet kickoff for my birthday week. Met up with a few people for happy hour after work, and we were all uncharacteristically mellow. Oh wait, except for friend Vicki, in town from St. Louis. With no dinner and 4 apple martinis, she was about as hyper as a hummingbird on crack.

Shining moment: Vicki yelling at another bar patron (about baseball?), hitting said bar patron, and when he buys her a drink, spilling half the drink all over the newspaper he was attempting to read. Nice.

Vicki, New York welcomes you with open arms. Well, at least the drunks do.

Things I Learned This Weekend

1) A small bowl of mac and cheese is not enough to absorb a liter of vodka and a long island iced tea.

2) Despite what you think at the time, it is never a good idea to buy a trucker hat that says "ROCK OUT WITH YER COCK OUT" and wear it around Manhattan.

3) When you're caught making out with someone you're not supposed to be making out with, you need a better cover than "Uh...I thought I was bleeding. He was checking for me." (Seriously that has to the lamest one I've ever heard, my friends are idiots when they're drunk)

4) If you show up to the first bar of the night, someone says "You should get a drink!" and you respond with "Nah it's cool, I have one in my coat", it's probably time to head home and re-evaluate your life.

Note to Self

For future reference, getting smashed and telling racist jokes to 65-year old white women is not (I repeat, NOT) the appropriate way to give thanks for what we have and who we love.

Sample excerpt below (slurring has been removed from transcript for greater ease of reading).

Me: Oh wait you have to hear this. Why do black men cry during sex??

[blank look from other guests]

Me: IT'S THE MACE! HA! GET IT?! THE MACE!

[awkward silence, horrified stares]

Me: HA! HAHAHAAH! THE MACE! HAHAHA

[my mother shakes her head in utter disappointment in the background]

Me: WHERE'S THIS GOD DAMN TURKEY ANYWAY?!

Knowing When To Quit

Some people think my friends and I are out-of-control drunks with no shame. They're probably right. But in the interest of continuing to delude myself, last night would prove otherwise.

With less than 2 beers in each of us Emily and I managed to bring civilized conversation to a halt by interjecting with comments about scat and singing Romanian pop songs -- which Em accompanied with a dance routine that lasted about 8 seconds too long, judging by the group reaction.

Nevertheless, we pulled ourselves together, stood up, and walked out of that bar with a shred of dignity in each of our back pockets, before we had a full-fledged night of disaster on our hands.

Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

Why We Drink

Every now and then you endure an experience that seriously makes you stand up, turn to the person next to you, and say "Holy shit, where's the closest bar?"

We definitely had one of those on Saturday. Went to see Domini dance in a show, and of course she was great -- unfortunately this meant sitting through some god awful performances until she came on.

This included many dippy white chicks dancing melodramatically to new age music, and way too many chubby people on stage. Honestly, how do you become a 'fat dancer'? That seems like it should be an oxymoron. Did you not get the memo? You're supposed to throw up after you eat. What are you doing, just sitting there digesting? Cause let me tell you, that ain't dedication.

Finally Domini came on at the end of the first act and showed them how it was done, complete with Jess screaming "YEAH GURLL! THAS WHAT AHM TALKIN ABOUT!!" and "LOOK AT THAT SLUT WORK IT!!", horrifying all of the parents of the dippy white chicks, sitting nearby. Immediately after which, we hauled ass for the nearest bar we could find.

I'd also like to thank Jess for:

• Busting out with the running man waaayy too early in the evening for us to be able to blame alcohol
• Attempting to start a fight with a nontourage of B&T guidos at the table next to us at Flow
• Demanding we head to another bar and then passing out in the taxi, in which we sent her back to Brooklyn

All in all though, a relatively quiet evening, that ended with me engaging in a deep discussion about real estate with my cab driver on the way home, which is amusing because I seriously know piss all about real estate other than where I don't want to live because then I'd have to look at poor people. Alcohol -- making me an expert on everything since 1998.

When Will We Ever Learn?

It's kind of funny seeing how excited people get about an open bar, considering only disaster and chaos can possibly ensue.

Case in point: Why am I so thrilled about an open bar I'm supposed to be attending tonight considering the last one I went to, I woke up 2 days later, naked, and handcuffed to a boat on a lake in upstate New York?

Whatever, I can always think about it tomorrow, have to get to the bar early!

Am I An Alcoholic?

Just the other day a friend read my blog and 'jokingly' sent me a quiz from AA that apparently determines whether or not you should start your 12 steps.

So in the interest of calming any of you who might be worried about my drinking habits and their consequences, I give you the breakdown:

1 - Have you ever decided to stop drinking for a week or so, but only lasted for a couple of days?

Hmm. No, the longest I've ever claimed I would stop drinking was for about 4 days, so I'm not even going to read past the first half of the question. Answer: No.

2 - Do you wish people would mind their own business about your drinking-- stop telling you what to do?

Not really, I find it amusing when people give me "helpful advice" about how much I should drink. Why they hatin' on the good times? Answer: No.

3 - Have you ever switched from one kind of drink to another in the hope that this would keep you from getting drunk?

Okay, this one I'll have to cop to. There was a time when i realized that vodka was water as far as my body was concerned, so I switched to drinking a couple of Long Islands when I went out. Yeah, big mistake, obviously. So I switched back to vodka. Granted, I wasn't trying to keep myself from getting drunk so much as wanting to stop falling down in bars and vomiting on acquaintances. But I'll give this one to the drunks, think of it as a charity point. Answer: Yes.

4 - Have you had to have an eye-opener upon awakening during the past year?

During the past year? Answer: No.

5 - Do you envy people who can drink without getting into trouble?

Uh sure, about as much as I envy people who have 'feelings'. Answer: No.

6 - Have you had problems connected with drinking during the past year?

Once I thought I could actually hear my liver calling from inside me, trying to tell me to go fuck myself. But that was in like, 2002, and you *specifically* asked about the last year. Answer: No.

7 - Has your drinking caused trouble at home?

A few months back I spilled a screwdriver on my computer keyboard and the 'F9' key has been sticky ever since. It was tragic. Answer: Yes.

8 - Do you ever try to get "extra" drinks at a party because you do not get enough?

Hello? Haven't you people ever heard of a flask? Answer: No.

9 - Do you tell yourself you can stop drinking any time you want to, even though you keep getting drunk when you don't mean to?

I always intend to get drunk. Answer: No.

10 - Have you missed days of work or school because of drinking?

Now that's just irresponsible. I do what any corporate lackey should -- I show up hungover (or maybe even still drunk? score!) and sit here being just about as productive as I am any other day. Bonus points for booting in front of a VP or higher in the bathroom! Answer: No.

11 - Do you have "blackouts"?

Sure, but isn't it more fun to hear about what you did from friends or a police report than to just wake up and remember everything that happened? Besides, that hasn't happened since Saturday night. Whatever. Answer: Yes.

12 - Have you ever felt that your life would be better if you did not drink?

Oh, the sacrilege! I'll pretend you didn't even ask. Answer: No.


Did you answer YES four or more times?

NOPE. Only 3. I am totally in the clear. Although the next time you're looking for more friends, maybe you should just ask nicely instead of posing ridiculously vague questions that 80% of young adults would answer yes to so they feel guilted into joining your club.

Oooh, that was kind of harsh. Sorry guys, drinking gin before noon on a weekday always gets me a little cranky.

Zander, circa 2040

Who needs a time machine?

Updates from Saturday Night

I'm sure I'll be hearing more about this all day, as everyone sits at work IMing each other, so I might as well just start posting updates:

you missed zander falling down on his ass and lying down for a few in that chick's kitchen, then joe standing over him and proceeding to pour the entire contents of his cup onto zander's pants

Did I really continue partying with soaking wet pants? Don't remember that part at all...

your friends were running around the hallways and screaming and rolling on the ground so I had to give them a talk

Yep, that would be me.

i love that we showed up to the lesbian party in an escalade playing lean back

Hey, I kinda remember that part.

you forgot...stef was waiting for the bathroom so she could wash my blood off of her, and you pushed her out of the way so you could pee

Thanks, Em, I was almost feeling better about myself. Nevermind.

And finally, from one of my roommates:

i just vaguely remember hearing someone stumbling down the hall, but didn't think much of it until Andrew asked me the next morning if i had heard you fall down. and then i remembered hearing someone buzzing the doorbell. i was just confused is all.

At least no one got arrested.

Not sure there's any way to really convey what an outrageous mess Saturday night was. I'll give you a run down of what can collectively be remembered, and you can come to your own conclusions:


6:02pm -- I head over to Emily's place to start drinking with her and all her Georgetown friends. No, that 6pm is not a typo. And it's probably where the trouble begins.

7:48pm -- By this time it's obvious that Emily's friends really are as awesome (and alcoholic) as she's claimed. The jokes about unprotected sex with minors start flowing, much like vodka into my mouth.

8:55pm -- About 9 of us stagger to the subway with plenty of "fruit juice" in hand.

9:12pm -- I hand out pamphlets of religious propaganda, just for kicks.

9:13pm -- Baby Jesus sheds a silent tear.

9:41pm -- For those of you who remember the insane subway ride from Halloween...well, this made that night look like community service. Some were sprawled on the floor, others were chugging cheap cheap bourbon, and conversations with our fellow passengers included the following:

Random Passenger: SHUT! UP!

Jessica: YOU DON'T KNOW ME! I'M CRAZY!!

10:11pm -- While walking to a house party on the upper east side, Emily suddenly falls, eats sixty-third street, and has to be taken to the hospital to get stitches. Not even funny, I know.

10:13pm -- The Weekend Fun Warriors soldier on towards the party, in honor of our fallen comrade.

10:54pm -- Apparently I "fell down in the kitchen, but not too many people saw." Nice.

11:31pm -- I head west to meet up with some other people, but I'm not sure what their apartment number is.

11:50pm -- I am found passed out on a couch in their lobby. We head to a lesbian bar.

2:23am -- After falling down several times in the lesbian bar, and unintentionally elbowing a couple of lesbians in their lesbian faces, I may or may not have been asked to leave.

2:24am to 11:00am -- I don't have a fucking clue.

11:07am -- I wake up with all kinds of cuts and bruises, still COMPLETELY HAMMERED, and head for Emily's place. On the way I pick up some breakfast and a chocolate milkshake, and stumble over a small child.

11:08am -- Satan tidies up my spot in Hell.

11:18am -- I get a text message that says that I'm "fun times USA". I feel marginally better about being wasted at 11 in the morning.

12:13pm -- In his bid to be poster boy for retards, Joe is sitting in the corner of Emily's apartment, eating salt. WTF dude. Seriously.

1:44pm -- My major organs begin to fail as I transition from drunk to hungover, and I head home to pass out.


Sadly, when I think to myself "at least no one got arrested", I actually feel better about the whole thing. I think my new low standard for a successful evening speaks volumes about the state of my "life" right now.

(And if anyone is wondering "Hey but what happened on Friday night?", I assure you, I have no idea either.)

Game Time.

If anyone's been following (and I'm sure they haven't), I haven't had a drink in almost 5 days. My liver is rejoicing, oh so thankful for the opportunity to repair itself between binges.

Well it's time to put that bitch in it's place. I just had a beer with lunch, and that's not even the beginning. Saturday's forecast includes starting at 6pm.

What.

Is This Sobriety?

Just had a really random flashback of me demanding that various people (possibly of various genders) give me a hickey, and several actually trying.

If anyone has any information about whether this was Friday or Saturday night, and who might have been involved, please advise.

(This is exactly why I try not to be sober for too long...do I really want to remember these things?)


UPDATE FROM OLGA:

it was saturday night, and I know for a fact that I started giving you a hickey, so did emily, and then the crazy little australian dude ran over, and you ran away, screaming.

Ah. Good to know. Kind of.

Treating a Broken Toe

I somehow managed to break my toe earlier this week. I was sober -- last time I let that happen again.

Went to the doctor, and apparently the best way to take care of a broken toe is to get absolutely plastered as soon as possible. Come to think of it, she might have said something about keeping my foot up and taking it easy for a few days, but I always get those two confused...

"Do you remember...?"

What's up with people sending me messages on Mondays starting with "oh my god do you remember when you _____ on saturday night?!"

No, I don't remember making out with anyone on the floor behind the couch. Oh, that was you? Yeah sorry no, don't recall.

And no...I don't remember starting a fight with a mailbox...although I have to say, that makes me sound even more awesome than I already knew I was.


Basically, just send me recaps as if I was never there, since there's no discernible reason that I would remember what I did between my 8th vodka tonic and that 4th shot of whisky.

Why House Parties Rule

Where else do you end up with people stripping, making racist jokes, and falling down because they're so wasted? Actually I guess we do that everywhere, but at least you don't have to worry about getting kicked out of a friend's apartment...as much.

It also helped that we were surrounded by a bunch of Australians who were so shit-faced (as Australians usually are) that they didn't know their asses from their elbows. And then there's Ms. Elenor -- considering the girl uses words like 'definetingly' and 'moutain' when she's sober, she's a real treat when she's smashed.

After all that we headed down to the East Village where we saw the random sighting of the month -- did you know that Hasidic Jews can go out and drink and dance? And that some of them know all the words to "99 Problems" by Jay-Z? Go figure.

Bright and Early

Ahh. Don't you guys just LOVE it when you go home early on a Friday night, and you wake up on Saturday morning and do all kinds of things that you could never do if you were really hungover?

Yeah me neither, pass the fuckin Stoli.

Still Drunk Hall of Fame - Andy Dick

Let's face it, I'm not nearly enough of an alcoholic to make a substantial post every single day. To drink that much I would really have to hate myself, and to be honest, I'm a pretty big fan.

So I'd like to take a moment to honor our idols -- those out there who are so committed to getting shit-faced, that they toss aside what little sense of shame they might possess, and make complete spectacles of themselves on a regular basis.

So without further ado, I present Mr. Andy Dick.:

In support of this award, I present the following evidence:

The New York Post reports that a stinking drunk and totally out-of-control Dick groped male and female clubgoers, and then rolled around on the men's room floor screaming for someone to get him some cocaine. Then, he barricaded himself in the club's kitchen and started sobbing about the death of his good friend Rick James. "My best friend is dead!" he blubbered. "He's gone! He's dead! You don't understand! All my best friends die!"

The host of the party, *NSync's Joey Fatone, whom Dick kept calling "Fat One," escorted Andy out of the club and put him in a cab, but not before Dick punched an unidentified man in the face. Wait, there's more. Instead of calling it a night, Dick had the cabdriver drop him off at another club, where a source said Andy stole kisses from unsuspecting passersby and bitch-slapped those who refused his advances. The club owner said the last time he saw Dick, the comedian was rolling around on the sidewalk in front of the club.

I can only dream of being that ridiculous. Until then, consider me in training.

Family "Dinner"

Met up with my family for dinner last night. Sounds wholesome and all, until you realize that "dinner" with my family means the following 7-course meal:

• vodka tonics
• more vodka tonics
• okay maybe just one more vodka tonic each
• bottle of wine
• another bottle of wine
• at this point we usually think we've only had one bottle, so we order another one
• cognacs

What's that you say? We forgot something? Oh right...food. I promise that's part of it, it's just not very important or memorable. And there you have "dinner" with my family.

And if one of my family members ever says "Hey let's get some drinks!", just remember to bring the stomach pump.

A Picture Speaks A Thousand Words...

Wow...an appropriately blurry photo of me holding a drink and looking like an asshole, with my arm around an immigrant French maid, grabbing a tranny hula girl's coconut breast.

If another picture out there more accurately encapsulates my life as a young adult, I sure as hell haven't seen it.

Honorable mention: Domini and myself getting a little too into character. If we could make out the faces in the background better, I assure you it would be a mixture of shock and disgust. Just the way we like it. Which probably explains why we kept going.

There don't seem to be any pictures of Emily anywhere, but that's probably because she was passed out in the stairwell or something.

Dr. Zander Reporting For Duty

Interesting article on Yahoo! News this morning:

If she takes a hard fall, Ashlyn won't cry. Ashlyn is among a tiny number of people in the world known to have congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis, or CIPA — a rare genetic disorder that makes her unable to feel pain.

Now now, no need to get so complicated. This child is obviously just drunk. Much like the other night when I tripped, fell, and ate 9th Street, but didn't feel a thing, her parents should just consider cutting the scotch out of her diet and I'm sure she'll be back to normal in no time.

Granted, I'm pretty sure that would have ruined my childhood, but you know what they say about different strokes...

I Heart Racism.

Last night was a sad, sad sign of the state of racial tolerance in this country. Our Halloween party crew included:

• a Jamaican with a huge blunt
• a Thai whore
• an Iraqi concubine...oh I mean "a genie"
• a white guy (that would be me)

After 2 hours of drinking at my place, about 9 of us headed to my friends' loft in Chelsea. We actually thought the other passengers on the F train were gonna beat the shit out of us at one point, and apparently I asked a girl with a Kerry/Edwards pin if she was supposed to be a Democratic whore. Oh that reminds me -- to top off our journey, the elevator in my friends' building broke and we had to get out and walk through the whore house on the 4th floor to get upstairs. (Props to whoever managed to yell out "OH MY GOD THIS IS THE WHORE HOUSE!" with the whores staring directly at us.)

My 'white guy' character just consisted of dressing poorly and telling racist jokes. And then we have Emily, who was supposed to be Chloe Sevigny, but unless Ms. Sevigny is a total drunken asstard, I'm not sure she pulled it off. Emily managed to:

• fall down several flights of stairs
• ask me several hours into the night "HEY! We're in Manhattan?!?!" (how do you forget a subway ride where EVERYONE blatantly hates us?)
• prompt a stranger to ask the hosts to remove her from the party after she hugged them while laughing hysterically at her own bad joke, and then dropped her drink on their foot
• berate my brother for being in a serious relationship
• wake up with a black eye and various other assorted injuries

Y'all white people CRAZY!

"I'm not going out tonigh...did you say booze?"

Tried oh so hard to stay in and recover last night. That lasted until about 11.15, when someone called and invited me to a house party. Alcohol is already hard enough to turn down, but free alcohol? Who am I kidding.

Highlight: My drunk friend stumbling over to greet someone, and then inadvertently headbutting them in the face instead. Now that is class, ladies and gentlemen.

Lowlight: Decided to grab a slice of pizza on the way home. When I asked how much, the guy responds "Twenty dollars, including the damage from last night." No, seriously.


You know what's awesome? Other than me? How you can wake up the next morning, take a shower, and wash away all the bad things from the night before. Well, I guess that doesn't include the herpes, but hey you can't win 'em all.

Hey is there something on my face?

Told you it was freaky. And yes, that really is ME.

And it keeps coming...

Phil: you don't remember reencountering Nazi Pilot, do you?

Zander: later on?

Zander: i don't remember much of anything

Zander: was it bad?

Phil: you asked him if he remembered you, and he was like "how could I ever forget you, you're obnoxious guy"

Zander: AWESOME

Now that I think about it, I saw several small children crying this morning. Maybe they were crying for my sins. Good thing I don't like kids.

Updates from the Museum of Sex

So based on what people are telling me and what my slowly sobering brain is contributing, here are some of the highlights from last night:

• Jess asked me if a guy there was dressed as a Nazi. By the time he told us he was actually a pilot, it was too late because we had decided he was a Nazi. (Jess also told him he was gay.) We pulled our standard "we're so obnoxious" routine, and he left the room about 3 minutes later as Jess and I yelled "HEIL!" and gave him a Nazi salute. Shit, I just remembered, I also threw a mask at his back as he walked away. Fucking Nazis.
• I promise that when I yelled "Goddamnit no more Asians!" I was talking about the exhibit, and not the Korean girl standing nearby.
• After several drinks in Brooklyn (Who drinks before an open bar? We do.) and a few "Dewar's Sidecars", I decided I should get my face covered in makeup. It took about 30 minutes and I looked ridiculous (fake eyelashes were involved). I then walked around telling random people "I don't normally look like this." I also scared the shit out of myself this morning when I woke up and went to the bathroom, not realizing I still had it on. I'm at work now and I think I'm still wearing eyeliner.
• I won a gift certificate for "Toys in Babeland", a sex shop. Emily decided to hold it for "safekeeping", but we all know bitch already ordered "The Rabbit" so I guess I won't be seeing that again.
• After pizza back in Brooklyn, I had an unfortunate encounter with 9th Street, resulting in the aforementioned bloody arm, plus other cuts and bruises I didn't see until I got in the shower this morning.
• Emily told me something sad, which prompted me to attempt to cry for the first time since I was 6 years old. I got my eyes to glass over, but no actual tears came out. Yup, still no soul. I'll try again next year.

Hopefully someone will be kind enough to provide a picture of me and my painted face, it was pretty fucking horrifying.

WOO HOO my first blog post. God I'm drunk.

Yeah, so I woke up before 6am on this glorious Friday morning, I'm still plastered, and for some reason I was inspired to create a blog. Why the fuck not.

I'm still trying to figure out why I have ridiculous amounts of makeup on, and my bleeding arm concerns me, but I'm guessing I had an awesome time at the Masquerade Ball at the Museum of Sex last night.

Oh so last night they had this tarot card reader, and I sat down for her. She told me that all these people wanna get with me (thanks, captain obvious.) and that I'm gonna be really successful (duh). So I was like "okay, this lady knows what she's talking about". BUT then she finished with "you're a good person" which caused all my friends in the vicinity to burst out laughing. I almost fell off my chair myself, but I tipped her and went on my merry way.

Now to get someone to map out the rest of the night for me. I'm sure there are some really horrible pictures out there. So much for my career in politics.