Why Are We Still Here?

We all went to a surprise birthday bash for Domini on Friday night. She was definitely surprised when she arrived, and suitably trashed by the time she left.

It had been a while, but it was one of those nights where we ended up wondering why we weren't tossed out on the street. Why might that happen, you ask?

1) Joe getting way too wasted, in typical Joe fashion, and beginning to pass out at a table about 40 minutes into the evening.

2) Jessica taking a liking to one of the female go-go dancers and posing numerous times with her hand uncomfortably close to the dancer's crotch. (Points to Jessica for not remembering this the next day, even with photo evidence)

3) Me spilling a good portion of my Black Label down the back of some girl's shirt. (I'd say I was sorry, but she was a total bitch about the whole thing. I mean, HELLO, that's basically free booze. Start licking, woman.)

4) Domini's apparent inability to stand up by 2am. (I refer you all back to this picture.)


There should probably be more on this list, but somehow no one seems to remember much after 1am. That's always comforting.


We were all still recovering on Saturday night, but still managed to follow up the previous night with a trip to a Mexican restaurant that included yelling, fluffing hair in other customers' faces, driving an entire family at a neighboring table out of the place, and laughing hysterically about it all. We rock.

Look At Me! Look At Me!

So as most of you should know, I'm moving to Australia at the end of the summer, tenatatively for 5 months or so, with a few other travels in between.

And since my main goal in life is to be the center of attention at drinking events, this provides the perfect opportunity for numerous farewell parties where everyone can focus on ME and what I'M doing. (Actually this might be the main reason I'm leaving in the first place, but let's not dwell on motivation.)

Anyway, the point of this post is to let all my friends know that sometime in August we will have a farewell happy hour, followed by farewell karaoke, where each of you will be MANDATED to sing me a song with a goodbye/farewell theme.

Feel free to start posting suggestions here.

Sober at Six Flags

No stories from Friday, since I headed off to Six Flags with my brother and his girlfriend. And I somehow managed not to get drunk and beat the living shit out of Bugs Bunny in front of a gaggle of horrified toddlers. Not that it's ever happened. I'm just saying, that would have been funny. I mean "terrible".

Of course even more impressive is that I didn't do this after we got to the park and Kingda Ka, supposedly the tallest, fastest and most awesomest rollercoaster in the world, wasn't even running. Which is pretty ridiculous since their entire ad campaign has been about it, and I'm pretty sure we saw 83 billboards for it on the way to the park.

Screw you, Six Flags.

P.S. If anyone finds a filthy NY state driver's license, half used Metrocard, and five dollars in coins underneath the Superman ride, shoot me an email. Thanks.

Points for Consistency, Minus a Few For...Everything Else

Left: Zander in France, September 2004; Right: Zander after the Broadway walk, June 2005

If nothing else, these pictures are evidence that I'm probably a good guy to be dating. Regardless of gender or species, apparently.

Worst Death Ever?

Okay, so this pretty much has nothing to do with alcohol (although I will disclose that I had several glasses of wine at lunch), but I was thinking about broadening my blogging horizons anyway, and this seriously grossed me out just now.

A news story about a leg falling from a plane coming in from South Africa that was landing at JFK Airport, and hitting someone's house. Several questions arise:

1) Is South Africa really that bad that someone would attempt to leave the country this way? Granted, I'm sure AIDS and racism aren't exactly a picnic in the park, but was saving up some cash and applying for a visa not a better option than hiding in the wheel compartment of a plane as it was taking off?

2) How did this "leg, with hip and spine attached" make it this far across the Atlantic and choose to separate from the rest of this corpse over Queens? I mean hey, not my favorite borough either, but I wouldn't dump body parts over it just yet.

3) Isn't this seriously one of the most horrible ways to go? Or as my coworker put it "like, whose fate is that?" Indeed.

Drunk of the Week(end)

Still not sure who wins this one.

There's the old Dominican dude who showed up to Belle's BBQ on Sunday wearing a beret and a tight t-shirt proclaiming in large letters: "I'VE GOT NIPPLES." Bonus points for only dropping by to ask for 2 Coronas, when he was already clearly sloshed. At 4pm.

But then, there's this guy:

Imagine you were at a club on a muggy but energetic Saturday evening, you looked over to the dance floor, and saw someone moving around like the Energizer bunny, if it was on crack and had just learned how to do the robot. Poorly.

What would you do? Well, if you're Jessica, you start dancing with him and making it that much worse. Thanks, dear.

Feel free to post your vote in the comments section.

Does Anyone Else Smell That?

So I was just wandering through my office (yeah, that's about as excited as I get about work these days) and I seriously got a whiff of whisky halfway between the water cooler and my desk.

The stages of my reaction to this:

1) Excitement, because I love whisky (specifically scotch, but let's not pretend I'm very picky)

2) Amusement, because I find real alcoholics pretty damn entertaining (in a pathetic way, of course) and I'd think it was really fantastic if there was one right here in the office with me

3) Concern...maybe that wasn't someone else I was smelling...

4) Satisfaction, because at least I have something to blog about today

5) Sadness, because that really shouldn't be what keeps me going in life

No Shame

I usually wouldn't be in a rush to put such an unflattering picture of myself up on the internet. However, in the interest of providing visual representation of what little pride we apparently have in ourselves, I'll get over my vanity and let you observe us in our natural habitat.

As tends to happen so often, we can't remember much of Saturday night, but we know we managed to make it to my coworker Susan's birthday bash and quickly alienate ourselves from everyone else at the bar. Awesome.

Achieving Negative Productivity

Did "dinner" with my family last night, which as usual translates to way too many vodka tonics and a few bottles of wine with maybe a morsel of food or two mixed in there somewhere.

Of course now I'm sitting at work, slightly hungover and really really tired (I don't sleep so well when I've been drinking), which led to the following exchange in a meeting this morning...


Vice President: So what I want to do is... [some long technical description of something or other]

Zander: [spacing out, since he's probably talking to someone else, right?]

VP: So, Zander, maybe you can throw together a project for this?

Zander: [stares blankly at the VP]

VP: Uh...write up the project requirements?

Zander: [blink]

VP: Or...I could start a project...write up the requirements...and basically do your job?

Zander: Uh...sure?


I still don't have a clue what he was talking about, so I guess this all works out pretty well in the end for everyone involved. Wait...

Pour Some Liquor

If I had a 40 on me (and wasn't in an office) I'd be spilling some of it on the ground right now in honor of Emla, whose blog is apparently going off the web for the time being.

*tear*

More shocking though is the fact that she would seriously stop blogging so soon after someone found her blog by searching for "chicks pouring whiskey in their pussies". God knows if someone found my blog by searching for those holy words, I'd be throwing a celebration. Or at least downing a bottle of Stoli in my bedroom. Whatevs.

Goodbye Emla, you shall be missed.

Bits and Pieces

It was a long weekend and only parts of it are coming back to me every now and then. But I have to say that one of my favorite people was the random dude on Saturday night who was walking in my general direction and managed to trip, slam his face into a table, knock over two drinks, and land in two other people's laps. After being helped back up, this superstar just started dancing again like he didn't even know something had happened. Because he probably didn't.

Keep in mind this is only funny because mine wasn't one of the drinks that got knocked over, and I wasn't that guy (for once).

Public Service Announcement

When you get a chance, definitely click on this link: http://www.collegeslackers.com/?pg=vid-flamingshot


When I first watched it I thought it was really horrible, but then I realized that I was only saying that because I could so easily see myself doing something that retarded.

Who could have known you had to blow it out and then do the shot?

Please Tell Me This Customer Was Drunk

Okay so this is totally random, but a while back someone in my company's Customer Service department forwarded me the following customer email, and I'm just sure that alcohol must have had something to do with it -- whether the customer himself, or his mother during the pregnancy. Enjoy.

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

BUT I KNOW ONLY MY FAVOR [COMPANY] ONLY TOPS STOCKS AND PORTFOLIOS OTHER MORE ETC,BUT I NEVER SEE [COMPANY] I CALLED FEEDBACK HELP ME USENAME AND NEW PASSWORD.THEN I PUT USENAME AND CHANGED DEFERMENT PASSWORD SETUP SUCCEEDED THEN THEY MAD AT ME CHANGED NEW MY PASSWORD BUT I FORGET WHAT NAME MY PASSWORD OK.IF FEEDBACK HELP ME IF I PUT USENAME AND PASSWORD. MAYBE THEY TRY STEAL MY USENAME AND PASSWORD BUT I NOT DUMBS THEM HUH OK.BUT I LIKE [COMPANY] BUT THEY CAN'T USE [COMPANY] I LIKE MY BEST WEBTV.NET PLUS CONTROL IN MY MIND SETUP IT UP.BECAUSE EX MY E-MAIL ADDRESS [EMAIL 1],[EMAIL 2],[EMAIL 3],[EMAIL 4]
then now my use [email 5] i like looking [company] but never
before [company] how work it out for me ? IF I LOOK MORE IMPORANT
[COMPANY] 1 TO 20 PAGES HIDES STOCKS AND PORTFOLIOS ETC, LATER I BACK LOOK [COMPANY] I LEARN FAST SKILLS BEFORE AFTER TOO LATE OK.HUH.I WILL GO OTHER IN OFFICE FOR COMPUTER CHECKOUT [COMPANY] IF I SEE IT OT NOT THEN [COMPANY] IF I SEE IT TEST OK.

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

Seriously, any insight into what the hell this dude was talking about would be greatly appreciated. I thought I understood the language of drunk, but apparently I'm not fluent.

CStixx & and Upper East Side

While it would usually take wild horses to drag me to the upper east side (or a small bottle of Stolichnaya), I managed to make the trip up on Saturday night for Cristin's birthday bash.

We started at her place, where I decided to rack up a few extra hell points.


While watching Team America...

Emily: That puppet really looks like Peter Jennings!

Zander: Yeah, but like, without the cancer.


While coming up with alternate names for Jordan's Cheesepocalypse...

Jordan: Cheese-oshima!

Jordan: The Bay of Cheese Invasion!

Zander: Cheese/11!

Jordan: Dude, you're totally going to hell.

Zander: Yeah.

Jordan: See you there.


Eventually we made it to Brother Jimmy's and met up with all of Cristin's awesome friends. Unfortunately, Cristin was being practical and paced herself with the drinks. I'm personally a strong believer that your birthday isn't complete until you've vomited on a baby koala or something equally fantastic, but hey, to each their own.

Thankfully for everyone, I managed to make up for it by being my usual obnoxious self, regaling fellow party-goers with my arsenal of racist and dead baby jokes (whether they wanted to hear them or not) and generally stumbling around the bar like a complete ass. And I only had to be talked to by security ONCE! Now that's a successful night.

Happy Hour, Round 4 (Emla's Bday)

My mother showed up for Emily's birthday happy hour on Friday, and when I gave Emily her birthday gift from a few of us, it was my mother who managed to provide the potential offensive quote of the evening...

Emily: Look! Hoop earrings with my name in them! I've wanted these forever!!

Mother: Oh, fantastic. Now you can go get a job as a cashier at D'Agostino's.


And you people wonder how I got this way?


UPDATE:

Can't believe I managed to forget this, but Cristin was definitely a contender (and very possibly winner) of Offensive Quote of the Night.

Zander: Fred (my stepdad) has the same birthday as Hitler!

Cristin: Oh, April 20th?

Zander: How do you know that?

Cristin: Oh, well, I had this boyfriend in high school who got suspended because... (long, convoluted story)

Everyone: Ah.

Cristin: And I hate Jews.


Mad props to Cristin for that one since she said it in front of my parents mere minutes after meeting them. Talk about first impressions.

Happy Hour, Round 3

Coworker: Did you see the pics from my birthday?

Zander: Oh yeah, I meant to ask, who the hell is that fugly girl in some of those pictures? She had like this Elephant Woman thing going on, dayyum!

Coworker: That would be my friend.

Zander: Ah. Right. Makes sense.


Honestly though, that's the kind of idiot thing I would say to someone drunk or sober, so I'm not even sure it counts.

Imagining My Intervention...

Was watching last night's episode of the O.C. and they had an intervention for one of the characters because she couldn't stop boozing.

So, my over-active imagination got me thinking about what my friends would say to me at my own intervention:

"Zander, you've been drinking a lot. Too much, really. It's ruining your life. I mean sure, you're more fun when you've had a few vodka tonics. And it's true that you're more likely to buy us drinks when you're wasted. And...well...actually...can I get you a scotch?"


Seriously guys, don't even bother.

Happy Hour, Round 2

I honestly can't remember much from yesterday's happy hour, other than the bartender entering Susan's name on her tab in the computer as "Ten Inch Dildo" for some reason (and her addressing him as "Four Inch" for the rest of the evening, god knows what was in those drinks after all that). But hey, how much can I really be expected to recall when I guzzled down 8 martinis (it was 2-for-1!!) in a couple of hours.

Either way, Domini and I had met up early (we're talking like, 4.30, because apparently neither of us have real jobs) to get started, so I was still home and in bed at a reasonable time.

I mention this because there was a woman on the R train this morning who is SO DAMN LUCKY that I was not tired, hungover and miserable when I encountered her at 8.3oam. It all started innocently enough -- I took a seat next to a stranger on the subway. I realize her headphones are way too loud, because I can hear "We Belong Together" by Mariah Carey, word for word, note for note. Which wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't listened to it on repeat for the entire ride. Honestly, woman, who needs to listen to that song EIGHT consecutive times. I used to kind of like that song, and now I'd rather eat a paper bag filled with broken glass and assorted insects before hearing it just one more time.

And if I'm even slightly hungover and this happens again, you're getting an elbow to the face, bitch.

End of random and irrelevant rant. Sorry.

Happy Hour, Round 1

Got a few happy hours this week, so I figured I can be even less creative than usual with my post titles. God, I'm lazy.

Also figured the very least I can do (since I'm all about "getting by") is give one brief highlight from each evening that represents my drunken buffoonery and let that suffice for a proper entry.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Discussion with my coworker, who was talking about her cousin in Nicaragua...


Coworker: Yeah, my cousin down there has seven kids.

Zander: Damn, she startin' her own sweatshop or something?

Coworker: Oh no you di'int.

Zander: Kidding! *charming smile*


Totally got away with that one...

Keeping It Professional

There were a ton of parties going on Saturday night, so it took me a while to get to the last stop of the night -- a coworker's birthday bash. I managed to arrive just minutes before the birthday boy was escorted out by security for being too drunk. Well done, Rodney.

Anyway, because I was taking so long to get there, one of my fellow cubicle drones in particular decided to take it upon himself to be the threatening and obnoxious drunk, via text messages and voicemails. Fortunately I saved all of the messages, meaning I was able to transcribe them and email them out to everyone in the office before he even showed his pathetically embarrassed face this morning.

His threats have been reproduced below, slurring not included to make it easier to read for those not fluent in drunk-speak:

11.31pm voicemail
zander you freak it's jonathan, what's up man, get your ass over here. this...this...this shizzle is off the hizzle man, you just gotta come over here. i mean, people are swinging from the ceilings, there's like naked chicks running around. i mean, if you miss this you're gonna be the biggest loser on the entire...five borough area. people are gonna walk up to you and say "did you go to that party, rodney's party?" and you're gonna say no, and they're just gonna look at you and shake their head in sadness cause you missed it. jaya's here, i'm here...rodney's here too, but it's the first two that are important. so get your ass down here.

12.26am text message
Loser. when u gettin here?

12.53am text message
Hurry your black ass up*

1.35am voicemail
oh my god. i mean, like, loser with a capital L. there's like a full blown orgy going down here. there's like people snorting cocaine off of hookers breasts, and the bar...like, they killed the bartender, so people are just pouring drinks. anyway you better get your ass down here or i'm gonna make sure you get a beat down at work tomorrow...well, not tomorrow, cause tomorrow is sunday, but you know what i mean. and if you don't show up to work, i'm gonna know that you're a pussy. so get down here...i'm so drunk i don't even know where i am anymore, but hurry the fuck up.



*Even funnier when you consider that the person saying this is a 34-year old caucasian.

Souvenirs

Jessica: dude what the fuck i literally have 35 fucking matchbooks from that last bar we were at

Zander: wow, really? i only have like 17

Zander: but i also have an access card to "Morgan's", whatever the hell that is

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

Maybe not quite as mysterious as the time in college when I woke up with an 8-ball in my pocket, but still...where do I pick these things up?

Just What I Needed: More People To Hate Me

Email exchange from yesterday...

Zander: Let's drink.

Jessica: After work?

Zander: I can wait if I have to.

Jessica: What do you want to do?

Zander: Remember when we used to go out after work and get ridiculously wasted and yell at strangers and harass bartenders until they wouldn't serve us anymore? Let's do THAT.

Jessica: Cool.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hours later...

Jessica on phone: Where are you?

Zander: At a bar. I needed a drink and I got tired of waiting.

Jessica: I'm only 8 minutes late you alcoholic asshole.

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

I was obviously in a certain mood yesterday, so I met up with Jessica and Joe, the perfect partners for a nice little beligerent night out in the city. Here are some stats to summarize the rest of the evening:

Bartenders who appreciated our fashion critique: 0

People who appreciated our tips on oral sex: 1.5 (she was fat)

Bartenders that had to ask us to "calm down": 2

Truly amazing performances of Journey's "Separate Ways": 1 (thank you, Jessica, loved the air kicks)

Performances ruined by Joe singing along: 7

People in lower Manhattan yesterday evening: 346,708

People who hate us after last night: 123,354 (we estimate at least half of those people already wanted us dead before last night, and we don't blame them)

Like I Even Remember...

In honor of Phil's birthday, Friday night was a big drunken mess, with a decent portion of the night spent at a trashy gay bar.

I'm not even sure I'll be attempting to recap the night, since memories are cloudy, but you know any night where you end up dancing with a lovely "lady" like this was probably a fun one, eh? Right?

Oh, whatever.

An Apology and a Warning

Just took a look at my blog stats, and considering the recent activity generated by people googling "Am I an alcoholic?", I think I owe an apology to all the people looking for help with their problems who are ending up on a blog that essentially glamourizes the lifestyles of the young, hot and inebriated. And whatever you do, don't read this post.


I'd also like the person who ended up here looking for "drunk family sex" to please never, EVER come back, as long as you may live. WTF.

Crouching Tiger, Boozing Dragon

So it's looking more and more like my mom and stepdad will spend a few months next spring teaching at a university in China.

This is very exciting for me, mainly because I've recently been lamenting the fact that cynical and hardened New Yorkers don't seem to be that shocked by our drunken crew's antics as much as we would like them to be. Start yelling at them about obscene sexual acts and how much you hate hippies on the subway, and they simply roll their eyes and start playing around with their iPods. No fun.

So really, I'm seeing the Chinese people as a whole new target demographic. I mean, if a bunch of five foot tall Asians aren't terrified of a ridiculously tall colored man yelling racial slurs and running drunkenly (naked, perhaps?) through the streets of Shanghai, then I'll know for a fact that life is no longer worth living.

China 2006 baby!!!


*Apologies for the horrendous graphic that came along with this post. I blame it on the fact that I'm not a graphic designer and on Godzilla being the only image I could find with scared-looking Asian people in it.

Who You Callin' Stupid?

Someone pointed out to me that I'm listed in the "Stupid Drunks Directory" on some completely random website, and I'm still trying to figure out which of the following bothers me the most:

1) Apparently people who read this blog think I'm stupid

2) I'm listed on a website where the primary goal seems to be finding pictures of drunk girls being taken advantage of, or

3) I only got one star.

Why We Drink, Pt. II

Domini was part of another dance show on Saturday night, this one much better than the last one. Not because it was any less painful to sit through the "modern dance" performances between Domini's hip-hop numbers, but because this time I was smart enough to bring a drink along with me.

There were some particularly awful acts this time, I've listed a few here along with the amount of alcohol they pushed me to drink.

• A girl in Indian garb doing an Indian dance to Dave Matthews. Oh, how clever. (6 sips of my drink)
• Four or five girls dancing to what sounded like drops of water (8 sips of my drink)
• A bunch of people dressed like aliens, running around with BALLOONS tied to their necks (11 sips of my drink)
• A group of fools having what looked like epileptic fits on stage, including a chubby dude in a red speedo (Half the fucking bottle)

Honestly, who ever thinks this crap is a good idea? And how can we have them shot?

Speaking of shots, we did some of those later in the night, in addition to getting far too drunk and acting like big, big idiots. Domini, these shows might just be the death of me.

Happy Arbor Day

Regular readers will remember that exactly two weeks ago, Domini tried to kill a plant.

In honor of Arbor Day, I will give Domini a good smack in the face next time I see her.

Have a good weekend.

Alcohol Does Not Turn Your Coworkers Into Friends

Something I fail to remember when I'm out drinking with the few coworkers whose company I actually enjoy is that I still can't talk to them like I would with close friends. This tends to lead to awkward conversations...


Coworker: Oh, Zander, I should send you this link, you'd love it.

Zander: What does that mean? Why would I like it? Because I'm black? Is it some African drum dance or something?

[stunned silence]

Zander: Uh...kidding!

Coworker: Right. Ha.

Who's Playing Again?

Yesterday I managed to score 4 of my CEO's tickets to the Yankee game, so a few of us headed up to the Boogie-down Bronx after work to attend.

As expected, Emily and I didnt have the faintest idea what was going on the entire time, but found other fantastic ways to occupy ourselves, like:

• Emily's impression of a Serbian refugee at a rave
• Discovering that our cell phones will auto-complete the word "homosexual" (but not "homo", wtf) and immediately texting it to Andrew...sitting two seats away
• Loudly discussing my indecision about whether I find homophobia or misogyny more amusing
• Emily, upon seeing Hideki Matsui's signature on the big screen: "Oh look! He learned how to sign his name in English!"
• Generally pissing off everyone in the immediate vicinity

We could try to blame all of this on our "Giant Beers", but really, we're just assholes.

My CEO may not have his season tickets anymore (which would lead to me not having a job anymore), but damn it was worth it.

A Cable Guy Came Today...

...and he was sober. Guess you can't win 'em all.

*tear*

If You Don't Have Anything Nice To Say...

On a whim, I've decided to allow comments on my blog. I'm a major control freak, so I don't know how I really feel about the idea of people being able to basically add content to MY blog, but figured I would give it a go.

I see this going several ways...

1) I am overrun with people posting crap all over the place, including incidents so embarrassing that I intentionally omitted them from my recap, and I am forced to take comments away.

2) Joe will be the only person who posts because he loves to see his own name in print.

3) Most likely, I am greatly overestimating the number of people who would notice or care that they could comment here, and this is a non-issue.

Wish me luck...

Maybe It's Not The Alcohol...

It may have taken us a while, but Domini and I have realized that we're complete idiots when we're together - drunk or otherwise.

For example, the following managed to happen while we were still on our way to the bar last night:

• Giggling like lobotomized schoolgirls the entire subway ride
• Running out of our subway car to get the train across the platform, even though we were already on the train we needed to be on
• Someone (me) getting their leg caught in the turnstile with another person (please, don't even ask how that happened, I have no idea)
• Someone (me again) walking into a guy on a bicycle
• Being mocked for acting like total jackasses by a complete stranger on the street

Actually I think booze might be what helps us focus. Just a few drinks into the evening, we were able to have deep - I might even say philosophical - discussions on female genitalia (always a favorite) and FUPAs. Thank god for half-price martinis.

Open Letter to My Cable Guy

Dear Cable Guy,

Maybe I should have realized it when you walked in and started rambling about god knows what for minutes on end, instead of asking me what you were there to fix. But I just thought you were friendly.

Perhaps it was a clue when you started singing in the middle of your own sentences. I figured you might just be a really musical person. Whatever that means.

One particular highlight was when you referred to yourself as "this nigga right here" twice during our very one-sided conversation.

I started to catch on when you dropped your equipment about 4 times within the first 7 minutes you were in my apartment. Still wasn't sure though.

And for the exorbitant amount of time you were on my roof, I was more worried that you might have fallen off and were lying in an alley nearby, bleeding internally.

So it really wasn't until you came back down from the roof and walked by me at close proximity that I realized you were completely shit-faced. Reeking of booze. While working. At 4:30pm. Nice.

Far be it for me, of all people, to lecture anyone else on substance abuse, but I generally don't recommend drinking when you know you're going to be spending the whole day messing around with various electrical outlets and the like. So maybe lay off the moonshine a little longer next time you're working - maybe until 5pm or so? - and then I won't have to worry about you so much.

Sincerely,

Zander

P.S. For future reference, I don't think most customers would take it as well as I did when you started looking through my mp3 collection and critiquing certain selections. We had an 80's party, so I downloaded a few songs that might not qualify as Grammy-worthy. Cut me some slack.

P.P.S. Don't suppose you have any recommendations on where to find a good flask?

God Damn, That Poor Plant

Between the fact that I'm pretty much out of ideas for this blog, and I haven't done this in a while, here's a timeline of events from Friday night and pictures to help follow along...


8:34pm -- We meet up at my place for drinks. Joe shows up dressed like a tard in the aforementioned outfit.

10:02pm -- Run into someone from high school on the subway. Just a few stops later she says she's getting off the train, but we strongly suspect she went to another car just to get the hell away from us.

10:47pm -- Join several people at BLVD, which ends up being B&T Trash Central, as expected.

11:19pm -- In a move that even I find astonishingly hypocritical, Jessica refers to my friend Kevin as "kind of an asshole".

11:20pm -- An old school hip hop song comes on, and Jessica immediately commences the running man.

11:58pm -- Because plants are apparently not as sacred as cows in her homeland, Domini manages to walk into a potted plant and knock it over. (I was only able to get a picture of the crime scene after a Mexican had run over and cleaned it up.)

11:59pm -- An embarrassed Domini stands in a completely different corner trying to distance herself from what she's done...unfortunately I am pointing and laughing hysterically, so this tactic doesn't work.

12:18am -- We arrive at Sin Sin, where we set up shop next to the April Interracial Couple of the Month (in the background).

12:41am -- Just a reminder - THIS GIRL said someone else was "kind of an asshole". Right.

1:36am -- Carole and Domini start making out. (I don't actually remember this, it's just what the pictures tell me.)

2:04am -- Because I'm apparently a borderline retard, I see something blue and drink it. It's gross.

3:11am -- As if the waitress at my local 24 hour diner didn't hate us for yelling our orders at her like we thought she was Helen Keller, Joe passes out on the counter, and another night ends.

Fugging It Up

I promise I have a proper weekend recap coming up, but wanted to share this with everyone first.

Apparently Mr. Joseph Nahasapeemapetalan never got the memo that you do not wear two sets of stripes together.

Especially not a pink, blue and white-striped shirt with brown pin-striped pants.

Topping it off, bad pun intended, we have a red cap that bouncers at every establishment had to ask him to remove.

Good planning Joe. And once again dude...double-you tee eff?

Hungover and Bitchy

Spent most of the day feeling a little worn out from last night's whiskey marathon, and naturally this resulted in several coworkers getting blind-sided by my nasty attitude.

At one point I'd made just enough mean comments about a certain fellow employee that someone nearby turned around and said "You know, this is why some companies have sensitivity training."

Thank god mine isn't one of them. I'd just have to start calling in sick on days like this.

Is This What Heaven Is Like?

Met my mom for drinks and then dinner right after work yesterday. After a few vodka tonics, we decided it was time to head to the restaurant if we were going to make our reservation, but while my mom was in the bathroom, I decided to ask the bartender a simple question -- "What do you think is a good scotch?"

Who knew the magic contained in those words? Within seconds I had several glasses of scotch sitting in front of me, including one poured from a bottle that lived on one of those shelves so high up behind the bar that you didn't know it existed. Alcohol content of that one? 55 percent, thank you and good night.

So I've decided that Oban Single Malt Scotch Whisky is my new favorite scotch that I'm probably too cheap to buy for myself. Johnny Walker, you still have a customer.

After all that, the wine with dinner, the cognac with dessert and the additional vodka tonic at the bar afterwards, I'm not even going to pretend I remember enough to finish this post.

Overheard In New York This Weekend

Can't really tie the weekend together, partially because I remember very little from Saturday night, so here are my favorite conversations from the past couple of days instead of anything really coherent...


Conversation #1

Zander: WHOA, we drank half the bottle of vodka in like an hour!
Jessica: What do you mean 'we'? I've been drinking rum.
Zander: Oh. Crap...


Conversation #2

Zander: Hi, can I get a chicken kebab.
[less than a minute later]
Zander: Hi again. Can I get another chicken kebab?
Vendor: Uh, sure...
Zander: Hey, can I get a hot dog.
Vendor: What about the kebab?
Zander: Yeah I want that too, I just want the hot dog while I'm waiting for the kebab.


Conversation #3

Zander: Hey look, it's the lead singer from Blink 182.
Jennie: Ooh! Can I ask him for his autograph?
Zander: NO. That's embarrassing.
Jennie: Oh come on, please, I LOVE Blink 181.
Zander: Blink 182.
Jennie: Yeah, I love them!
Zander: *sigh*

Sadly, We Were Sober

I was about to make a quick post about this weekend when Emily alerted me to the fact that there was a conversation on Overheard In New York that was eerily similar to something I would say.

Went to check it out, and it seemed like someone actually heard myself and Domini talking, and submitted it. Of course it's patently offensive in a way that only Domini and I could achieve.

Black guy: Good god. I had to actually work today.
Indian chick: By "work" you obviously mean taking credit
for the many hours of hard labor endured by my fellow Indian IT brethren who report to you. You exploiting bastard.
Black guy: Ha, ha. Like slavery. But I'm Black.
Indian chick: Oh, the wicked irony.
Black guy: Word.

I realize we were sober at the time, but as I recall we were definitely on our way to a happy hour, so it still warrants being posted here.

Very exciting stuff. Now if only I could be someone's Missed Connection...

National Alcohol Screening Day

Happy National Alcohol Screening Day to everyone out there!

In case you were worried that you might be a healthy individual, fear not -- according to someone (we can only assume it's those 'experts' we're always hearing about in the news), "Moderate alcohol use is defined as up to two drinks per day for men and one drink per day for women and older people."

Which makes everyone I know over the age of 11 a serious alcoholic, but whatever. It's not like I haven't spent plenty of time ripping on the supposed definition of alcohol abuse before.


Don't panic just yet though -- I went out for drinks with my coworkers last night, and we established that unless you wake up naked with an overweight farm animal and some used sex toys in your bed the next morning, you didn't overdrink the night before. Feeling better already, huh? Yeah, I can tell.

The Night of Bad Ideas

I always find it funny how perfectly good ideas can turn into crappy ones with just a little tweaking. Let me use the photos from Friday night to illustrate my point...


Good idea: Sipping Captain Morgan as part of a mixed drink, in the privacy of your own home or the confines of a legal drinking establishment.

Bad idea: Chugging the Captain straight out of the bottle on public transportation.


Good idea: Playing "duck-duck-goose" with classmates in kindergarten.

Bad idea: Playing "duck-duck-goose" with complete strangers on the streets of Brooklyn. (Joe, one day you will get stabbed, and I will laugh heartily at the destruction you have brought upon yourself.)


Good idea: Doing a pole dance, perhaps licking the pole suggestively, in a strip club.

Bad idea: Doing a pole dance on the germ-infested and disease-ridden subway and licking a pole that a homeless guy was probably using for support just a few minutes earlier.


Good idea: Karaoke night with all of your friends.

Bad idea: Karaoke night with all of your friends...and a bunch of fucking clowns who happen to show up and get on everyone's nerves.


Good idea: Inviting your brother and his girlfriend to hang out.

Bad idea: Inviting your brother and his girlfriend to hang out with these idiots.

Dinner, Interrupted

Last night met up with Emily and Jessica who were joining me at a family dinner in midtown. The night was off to a great start, and I had some scotch for my sore throat, but after downing a few glasses of white wine I was hacking up a lung and decided it was best if I went home without dessert.

Of course, this wasn't before I decided to stop into a local drug store to grab some Nyquil. Thank god there wasn't a security guy by the door, since I was clearly drunk (or possibly retarded). Despite the fact that the door was open and there were plenty of shoppers in the place, I actually leaned my head in the doorway and shouted "ARE YOU GUYS CLOSED??" Still not sure why I did that.

After everyone looked at me like I was insane, I entered the store with about as much grace as a fat chick on stilts, and bumped into TWO product displays before finding what I was looking for and getting out of there.

My apologies.

Don't Worry, I'm Not Sobering Up Or Anything

I've received enough threatening IMs and emails that I decided it was time to post an apology for the several days of silence here on the blog.

Apart from my usual laziness and lack of inspiration, I also have to blame my ridiculously sore throat. I had just about fooled myself into thinking my new raspy voice might be sexy, when I just went to pick up my laundry and the Korean guy whose English vocabulary formerly consisted of "Pound laundry?" and "Sorry, not ready." suddenly busted out with "What happen to you voice?" Fuck.


ANYWAY, a sore throat simply means I need to drink scotch. Or should I say *more* scotch. Gotta be primed for Baby Jesus Karaoke on Friday night! And yes, you read that correctly.

Pip Pip, Cheerio, And All That Rot

Called in sick yesterday so I could go take my Oath to the Queen and officially become a British citizen.

My mom came with me and we celebrated with lunch and wine afterwards, French of course (sorry Liz, your food sucks and you know it).

Then some vodka tonics, after which it was 3pm and I was buzzed enough to go home and take a nice nap. Damn it's good to be British.

Now excuse me while I figure out which poverty-stricken country I'm going to add to my empire while I drink scotch with my wenches.

Douche

Almost forgot about this phone call from Saturday night...


Zander: Hello?

Joe: HEEEEYYYY what's up dude!

Zander: Joe? Aren't you in Connecticut tonight?

Joe: Yeah

Zander: Uh ok. Are you coming into the city?

Joe: Nope.

Zander: Then why the hell are you calling me?

Joe: HAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAAA

Zander: I'm hanging up on you now.

Joe: HAHAHAAAHAHAHAA

*click*


Seriously dude, you owe me 16 seconds of my life back. Douche.

The Answer Is Yes

I just found myself seriously wondering "Am I Still Drunk?"

I was on my way to a meeting and just walked into a wall in front of my company's entire Editorial department, dropping my notepad and spilling my water.

Everyone was polite enough not to say anything, but there's a good chance HR will want to talk to me any day now.

While You Were Sleeping

Had a few people over to my place, per usual, to drink before heading out to Sutra where Emily had a friend DJing.

Joe shows up to my place late, also per usual, and completely plastered. Although this time it was so bad that he passed out on my couch and we took the opportunity to do mean things to him (e.g. writing "I [heart] COCK" on his sorry excuse for a bicep). He was going to join us as we were leaving, but then managed to puke before he could get out the door so we left him as is.

So Joe, this one is for you. Here's what you missed...


JESSICA ATTEMPTING TO START A FIGHT ON THE SUBWAY

Granted, we always come pretty close to crossing the line during our drunken subway rides, but Jessica yelling "BRING IT, CRACKER!" at some innocent teenagers nearby was somewhat unnecessary. Fortunately they took it in stride, and did not retaliate.


COLIN PRETENDING NOT TO KNOW US

Colin quickly regretted his choice of social circle for the evening, highlighted by his decision to stare at the floor during the entire subway ride. He wasn't fooling anyone though.

Far more convincing was his disappearing act at the bar later that night -- a.k.a. the longest cigarette break ever. It's okay dude, we don't blame you. Actually if I didn't know these people so well, I would have done the same.


NOMINATED BEST CONVERSATION, MARCH 2005

White Jay-Z Wannabe: Hi, I'm [redacted].

Jessica: So...you're kind of n!ggerish*.

WJW: Uh...

Jessica: Are you gay?

WJW: Um, no.

Jessica: Do you have a big dick?

WJW: I don't know how to answer that.

Jessica: You know. Six and three-quarters or bigger.

WJW: Uh...

Jessica: Do you fuck black people?

WJW: Well, it was nice meeting all of you...


Thanks for that, Jess.


ZANDER SLAMMING HIS HEAD INTO THE LOW CEILING AT THE BAR

Which I still don't remember. But there's a picture to prove it, horrified bystander reaction and all.


After all this and more, I come home to find Joe still passed out on my couch. Joe, I hope you read this and realize what could have been.


* Apologies for the censorship, I just don't like the idea of my blog showing up when someone googles the N word.

Quote Of The Weekend

I think this is such a great quote partially because it fulfills my love of ridiculous analogies, but I'd like to thank birthday boy Jordan for this one:

"I can't believe you guys use grapefruit juice as a mixer when you know it impairs your liver. That's like...like...having unprotected sex with a prostitute that might have AIDS. You're just asking for something bad to happen."

Fired Much?

The following prompted several coworkers to begin discussion of starting an office pool predicting when I will be terminated for inappropriate comments...


Co-worker: I love going out in New York. I just wish it wasn't so expensive.

Zander: I like that it's expensive. It keeps the less desirable elements out of my preferred drinking establishments.

Who's Farewell Is This Again?

Headed to a bar after work the other day with some co-workers to have farewell drinks for a colleague. Once someone had pointed out who this person was (give me a break, I've only worked with her for 3 years) I made the mistake of making eye contact before ordering my first drink.

Co-worker: Aww Zander, thanks for coming!

Zander: Actually I'm just here for the free drinks.

Co-worker: Oh.

Zander: No, no, I'm kidding. Sad to see you go.

Co-worker: Haha, you're so funny--

Zander: Sorry, I need to get a drink. Farewell.


Between that exchange and calling everyone I work with old (while reminding them that I am still in the prime of my youth, and asking how horrible it must feel to know that your life isn't really worth living anymore), I woke up the next morning feeling even more fortunate that I was recently accepted to business school. Always good to have that to fall back on when they fire me for being the biggest asshole ever.

Plagiarism Keeps Me Warm In The Wintertime

Every time someone forwards me this email, they ask me if I was the original author. And in my little world, where laziness and an absence of morals reign, this practically does make it my own work.

So, in the spirit of my complete lack of originality and desire to do as little as possible, I give you a classic, "Open Letter to Alcohol"...

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

Dear Alcohol:

First & foremost, let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. My friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer at the game, and you're even around in the holiday's hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings.

However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions. While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences:

1. Phone calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex-loves when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?

2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you suggest that I eat a taco with chili sauce, along with a big Italian meatball and some stale chips (washed down with WINE & topped off with a Kit Kat after a few cheese curls & chili cheese fries)? I'm an eclectic eater, butI think you went too far this time.

3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It's completely unnecessary, and the black & blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day are beyond me. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.

4. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 3pm hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire day is shot. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (water, vitamin B, bread products, aspirin) prior to going to sleep/passing out face down on the kitchen floor with a bag of popcorn, the hangover should be minimal & in no way interfere with my daily activities.

Alcohol, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now & would like to ensure that we remain on good terms.

You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above & address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 3pm (pre-happy hour) on your possible solutions & hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

Thank you,

Your Biggest Fan

P.S.

THINGS THAT ARE DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
1. Innovative
2. Preliminary
3. Proliferation
4. Cinnamon

THINGS THAT ARE VERY DIFFICULT TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
1. Specificity
2. British Constitution
3. Passive-aggressive disorder

THINGS THAT ARE DOWNRIGHT IMPOSSIBLE TO SAY WHEN DRUNK:
1. Thanks, but I don't want to have sex.
2. Nope, no more beer for me.
3. Sorry, but you're not really my type.
4. Good evening, officer. Isn't it lovely out tonight?
5. Oh, I couldn't. No one wants to hear me sing.

For The Ladies

Hey ladies, next time you're out drinking, be sure to take a few Magic Cones with you.

No more waiting in lines for the ladies room when you have this fantastic "disposable urination funnel" available in your purse, eh?

Oh and according to some people, this isn't work-safe, although I don't think anything animated counts. Maybe it's just me.


Apologies for the lack of a real post lately, between the fact that I've been boozing less, and Blogger has been sucking more, I've been slacking. We will return to our regularly scheduled programming shortly.

This Is How We Do It

Had another ridiculous night out on Saturday and realized that despite all the hilarity and fun, we have a pretty firm pattern of behavior.

So I was inspired to throw together a How To guide, in case someone out there was looking to recreate a StillDrunk evening for themselves, sans Zander. Pictures from Saturday night are included as visual aides.


Step 1: Begin drinking at home. Have at least 4 ridiculously strong drinks over the course of one hour.

Step 2: Make sure your friends drink a similar amount, even if they weigh half as much as you and haven't eaten in 2 days. (If you aren't meeting up with people until later, skip to step 6)

Step 3: Come up with corny jokes with/about your friends that you will repeat constantly throughout the night as if they were comedy gold. Keep up the repetition, even if you're sick of your own joke by 10pm.

Step 4: If you are walking, being driven, or taking public transportation to the first bar/club of the evening, prepare a "to go" drink. Hope any police officers along the way don't realize that Poland Spring isn't pink. If you are driving the car yourself, your friends are just using you and don't really care about you. And/Or you live in the suburbs. Ouch.

Step 5: Whatever your mode of transportation, act as belligerent as possible. Drivers should cut off other cars and sing along to bad music as loud as possible. If walking, tip over a few trash cans or strollers (unoccupied or otherwise). Or in our case, terrorize yuppies on the F train. Please note that if you transfer to the A train, you should still be obnoxious, but also be aware there's a good chance you will be stabbed.

Step 6: Walk into the drinking establishment like you fucking own the place. Knock over a stranger's drink. Shit, knock over a stranger. You are in da hizzy.

Step 7: Order two drinks at a time, and feel free to accuse the bartender of making them incorrectly/weak. Or if you're feeling friendly, dry hump a Mexican bus boy.

Step 8: Pretend like you're still in the privacy of your own home. And that you don't have neighbors. Yell and do inappropriate things. Maybe even mime a sex act. Or eight.

Step 9: Maybe just one more offensive gesture.

Step 10: At this point you will realize you are drunk. Your choices are a) to get moving while you are still coherent so you can order some food on the way home, or b) to embrace your drunken state and collapse into a taxi, hopefully telling him where you live before losing consciousness.

Step 11: If you still possess the ability, drunken shenanigans in your neighborhood are acceptable, and encouraged.

Step 12: I actually don't have any more, but I thought having 12 Steps would be a nice touch of irony.

It's Not Just A Bad Habit, It's A National Past Time!

Received word on Friday evening that I will officially become a British citizen on the 23rd of March.

This is truly momentous. No longer do I have to hang my head in shame when someone asks me if I'm a binge drinker. I can stand up proudly (or slouch, depending on how many I've had) and say, "No, I'm British!"


(An update is coming for Saturday night, eventually)

Gotta Love The Classics

Earlier today someone asked me if I'd ever been thrown out of a drinking establishment before, and I responded no. Then I realized I was only limiting my answer to NYC, and that I have in fact been removed from a club before.

So, since I've been a lame ass this week and need to post something here, I begin my story...

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

It was my senior year in college, and Jessica and I had finished our finals on the same day. Neither of us were leaving campus until the following day, so we said we would go out that night.

Except we were a little overzealous. In all the excitement, I declared I would drink until I couldn't see anymore, and Jessica followed that with pledging to drink until she puked. I want to say that qualifies as "foreshadowing", but really it was just us being complete idiots with an idiotic mission.

So naturally we started boozing at the house, and eventually hopped a cab to Pittsburgh's South Side. It was a random weeknight, so the bar was empty, and we just started drinking, doing a few shots. To be honest, the night seemed in danger of turning out to be a huge disappointment. Then Jessica noticed that it was some guys birthday at the other end of the bar, and bought him a shot. He was extremely grateful, and insisted that we put all of our drinks on his tab.

This is what we like to call The Beginning Of The End.


I have to admit, I wish I could recall just about anything after this point, because I'm sure hilarity ensued. Unfortunately, it's all a blur, although at some point we must have headed to this club called Have A Nice Day Cafe. (To this day I still have NO clue where this place is located.) I vaguely remember dancing with numerous strangers and drinking more, and more, and more.

At some point I decided it was time to relieve myself, and was still of sound enough mind that I should head to the bathroom. I'm smart like that, even when drunk. While standing at the urinal, I actually managed to pass out by leaning forward and resting my forehead on the wall in front of me, with my wang still hanging out of my pants. Pure class.

A passerby was kind enough to return me to a state of consciousness (I prefer to deny the more cynical argument that he just wanted to use the urinal himself) and I zipped up and headed out the door. No, I probably didn't wash my hands, get over it.

It was at this moment that my ability to say "No way, I've NEVER been kicked out of a bar, that's ridiculous" came to a crashing end. I walked out of the bathroom, and directly into a wall, face first. In front of at least two bouncers, who immediately asked me to leave the premises, and began escorting me to the exit. I attempted to defend myself by pointing out that the wall was painted black, and how could I be expected to see a black wall when it's night out, but they weren't interested.

Apparently not content to suffer my fate alone, I tapped Jessica and told her I was leaving on the way out, and the bouncers told her she had to leave too. I probably should have waited for her before I jumped in a cab and sped home, but instead left her crying angrily, yelling at the bouncers and the cashier "MY DAD IS THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY, HE WILL SUE YOUR ASSES!!!" (Sidenote: Her father is no such thing.)


And no worries, I was not the only one who accomplished their mission. Jessica spent most of the next day reliving her meals from the previous 16 hours, in technicolor. Shining moment for her was probably when she had to ask her mother to pull over on the side of the highway so she could vomit just one more time. Making our parents proud, eh?

Uh Yeah Whatever You Say

Forgive me for not posting this earlier, but I don't think you can blame me considering what used to be my brain fluid now mostly consists of Stolichnaya with a little bit of Johnny Walker thrown in. Moving on...


So Saturday night we had plans to meet Jessica and her family and friends for dinner. Conversation with my mother earlier that day...

Zander: Dinner is early, at 6:15.
Mother: Okay. And is it any special occasion for her parents?
Zander: I dunno...I guess it's their anniversary or something.

Turns out their anniversary is actually in August and this was just a random trip to New York for them. Didn't my mom look dumb when she showed up with an anniversary card and a bottle of wine for them. Which she then gave to me and said "Darling, why don't you give this to Stephanie and Harold and explain why you're so stupid." As if my hypothetical suggestion that it might be their anniversary was unreasonable considering I was totally hungover.


Proceed to dinner where Jessica and I loaded up on the margaritas and were acting like such idiots (such as musing how awesome it would be if you got your really dark-skinned black friend coupons to a tanning salon for their birthday) that my mother says "Are you two on drugs? Because if this is your normal state I feel very sorry for you."

Good to know someone does, mom!

Black History Month Karaoke

Friday night was our opportunity to gather in honor of black history -- which really meant we would be even more offensive and beligerent than usual, of course.

Top 5 Moments:

5) Jessica repeatedly yelling the names of black historical figures before, during and after every one of her performances, leading most of the people in the bar to stare at her with looks that said "Seriously, WHAT. THE. FUCK."

4) Joe passing out in the bar for an entire hour

3) My own stunning rendition of Enrique Iglesias' "Bailamos", sung entirely in a Mexican accent, while pointing at horrified audience members

2) Jessica yelling at people to watch her purse between the lyrics of "Party All The Time" by musical genius Eddie Murphy

But it was obvious that nothing would top the following:

1) Joe thinking Jessica was sitting next to him and attempting to unsnap her bra in an attempt at humor, and then realizing that the girl was not in fact Jessica, and that neither the girl or her big black boyfriend with dreads was very amused


We're not sure if we're allowed back in that bar, but if it happens, Jessica and I plan to sing an acapella version of "Wade In The Water" to make up for sins against our ancestors.

(I have pictures, but I'm currently too lazy to post them here. If you have a problem with that, you're a racist.)

Inspiration

Not that I would ever need to come up with more reasons to drink for myself, but just in case you needed a little inspiration to get you going this weekend, please, click here.

"The SmartKlamp, a novel disposable circumcision device."

Um, WHAT?

My many issues with this include the fact that you are asked to choose between being a medical professional or a parent/end user. How about if this is something you want done to yourself or a loved one, you just go to a doctor, mmkay?

Also charming is the fact that they have to specify that it is for one time use only. Oh really? That's a shame, because I was really thinking about getting one, using it, and then loaning it to a few buddies.

Gross. I'm going to need at least 6 drinks tonight to forget about this. Or to buy one and bring it to bars with me.

And Don't Come Back

Spent President's Day Weekend skiing up in Vermont, where the only thing whiter than the snow is the people. Until we arrived.

In what might have seemed like a blatant attempt to damage race relations for several generations, we were absolutely belligerent the entire time, even when sober. Here's why dark people like us should really stay out of New England:

• Because we discuss anal sex at charming little diners with toddlers sitting less than 2 feet away
• We ridicule Red Lobster for hours on end, knowing that it's probably the nicest place these people ever eat (and only on special occasions)
• Blasting hip hop (or perhaps the occasional European dance track) from our SUV while we're stopped at gas stations is NOT the way to appeal to white country folk
• Because we cram SEVEN people into a suite reserved for FOUR, and bring enough alcohol to satisfy your average Catholic family
• Tumbling down the side of a mountain apparently does not qualify as 'skiing', judging from the looks on everyone else's faces (we would have been sooo much better if we weren't hungover)
• The pot smoke billowing from under the door of our room is probably not what the people at the "Castle Resort and Spa" expected when paying $275 per night to stay there

Fortunately for the average ski enthusiast, Domini and I are not exactly the next Vijay Singh and Tiger Woods of the ski world, so their sport is safe. For now.

(Apologies for the current lack of pictures, but Domini stole my camera and may have pawned it to support her smack addiction, hopefully we'll have those in a few days)

Mo' Money, Mo' Problems

After last months big lottery win, you'd think things couldn't get any better, right? How wrong you were. Just hit the jackpot again, winning another SEVEN big ones. (And by big ones, I mean dollars.)

So I'm gonna get it all in singles, and roll around naked in it on my bed for a little bit. And then I'm gonna go blow it all on a vodka tonic.

Don't hate the playa, hate the game.

Don't Pass The Courvoisier

Socially accepted conversation with your parents when you're having dinner at a nice restaurant:

"Lovely weather we're having, isn't it? Yes, we might need coats tomorrow, pity."


Zander's conversation with his parents when he's having dinner at a nice restaurant:

"Hey you guys, when I touch my butt I can feel my pulse! Weird, right?"


Needless to say I was shortly sent home in a cab, without any cognac.

Questions Regarding Friday Night

So after much discussion and even photos to document the night, we are still left with many questions regarding what the hell happened on Friday night, as no one remembers events quite that clearly. So I will post these questions here in the hopes that someone will come across them and one day shine some light on why we are such idiots.


Question #1: WHEN did it become a good idea to start drinking at 6pm on a Friday night at an establishment that serves 25 cent beers?

Question #2: WHY, after all of our ghetto ranting and raving (the topic was possibly oppression of the dark races), are we still allowed on the Upper East Side?

Question #3: WHY, only minutes after learning that grapefruit juice exacerbates the effects of alcohol on your body, did we immediately pour ourselves multiple grapefruit and vodkas?

Question #4: WHAT is it that makes Jordan's Cheesepocalypse ("A cheese snack so devastating that it could potentially bring about the End of Days.") so absolutely perfect?

Question #5: WHY is this picture so representative of our relationship with alcohol?

Question #6: HOW is Jordan such a good dancer, and why won't he teach me his secrets?

Question #7: WHO in christ's name thought it was still a good idea to go to a club after Jessica put on her dance show?

Question #8: WHY do taxi drivers love us? We're dark and we're assholes.

Question #9: WHO lets us into a club when half of us can barely stand up straight?

Question #10: HOW did we not get kicked out after claiming a reserved table for ourselves, dancing like assholes in the middle of the club, and dropping/breaking not one, not two, but FOUR glasses in the course of two hours? (Seriously -- at one point the barback was just standing nearby waiting for the next drink to fall. I shit you not.)

Question #11: HOW did Cristin manage to snag the hottest chick in the club?

Question #11: WHY is Joe such a douche?

Question #12: HOW did Jessica manage to spill Captain Morgan all over the inside of her purse?


Please email all answers to ZanderMan@gmail.com. Cheers.

Not To Be A Tease, But...

...you just know that any night where this picture can be taken before 8pm is gonna be one worth blogging.

A real post is coming up when I damn well feel like it.

That's So Bitchy I Love It

Met up with certified homosexuals Ryan and Phil last night for a few drinks in Chelsea. Now we all know that gay men plus alcohol equals hilariously awful comments about everyone in the vicinity and beyond, so I'll just give you a couple of highlights...

Ryan: Hahaha.
Zander: What are you laughing at?
Ryan: I just pictured that fat guy on skis.

* * * * * * * * * *

Random Guy: Hey, do you remember my friend Jeffrey?
Phil: WHO, THE FAT ONE?!

* * * * * * * * * *

Random Guy: Did you sleep with him?
Phil: Well, I always have had a thing for the Pillsbury Dough Boy.



Oh dear, I just realized that all of the insults were about fat people. I apologize to fat people everywhere. Oh wait, I don't mean that...

My, That IS Disturbing

Friend: i think i have come to the disturbing conclusion that drinking vodka makes my knees hurt when i wake up

Zander: that is an odd conclusion

Zander: but more importantly, how much do you really care about your knees?

He's Just Not That Into You

When some girls want to get a guys attention, they might bat their eyelashes, flip their hair, maybe start a conversation. Or, that girl is Jessica.


Jessica (to random guy walking by): Hey baby how you doin?

Guy: [pretends not to hear her]

Jessica: Yeah that's what I'm talkin' about.

Guy: [still pretending not to hear her]

Jessica: Mmm hmm that's right. Work it.

Guy (turns around): Are you talking to me?

Jessica: DAMN RIGHT I'M TALKIN TO YOU, AND YOUR FINE ASS.

Guy: [continues walking away]

Jessica: YOU AND YOUR TIGHT ASS. JUST LIKE TWO SWEET, SWEET APPLES!

Guy: [probably terrified]

Jessica: ...IN A BAG!!

Guy: [disappears down the block]

Jessica (in all earnestness): Why didn't he stop and talk to me?

Lookin' Out For You Guys

The other day I was pleasantly surprised to discover that someone had found this blog by googling "drunk midget".

Shortly thereafter, I genuinely began to feel bad that whoever this was hadn't found what they were looking for. So, courtesy of Brian Battjer and his photo blog, I give you a picture of a drunk midget:



And I believe I get extra points for the drunk midget being Asian.


As for the person who was looking for "wet his pants", I have a feeling we're no more than few weeks away from an appropriate picture of yours truly in a similar situation.

Conversations With An Alcoholic Family

Over dinner last night...

Zander: Hey, do you know what happened to my flask? Did you take it?

Mother: Excuse you?

Zander: I had a flask. In college.

Mother: I have no idea.

Zander: I need a new one, want to buy one for me?

Mother: You have to promise me you won't take it to work.

Zander: Oh.

So Much Cheaper Than Vodka

You know if I was just a little more ghetto, this article would have been really inspiring:

A woman arrested after failing a sobriety test and telling police she drank three glasses of Listerine has pleaded guilty to drunken driving. Carol Ries, 50, was pulled over after she rear-ended another vehicle at a red light on Jan. 9.

Police found a bottle of Listerine in her car, and she told them she had drunk three glasses earlier in the day. Her blood alcohol level was more than three times the legal limit, police said. According to Listerine manufacturer Pfizer Inc.’s Web site, original formula Listerine contains 26.9 percent alcohol, while other varieties contain 21.6 percent alcohol.

I Don't Pee On Mondays

Just thinking about it, and I find it amusing that I drink so much on the weekends and dehydrate my body to such a ridiculous extent, that urination simply isn't an option until Tuesday morning on any given week.

That's all for now.

Letters of Apology - Re: Saturday Night

In an attempt to atone for my sins this weekend, I've written up a few open letters of apology to those affected by my dumbassery...


Dear Guy On Subway: I'm sorry, but your outfit was really stupid, and Jessica and I simply had to have a picture of it. We hope for your sake that you were on your way to a costume party.

Dear Lesbians: Maybe it was all the sangria, but I'm not quite sure what I was thinking when I attempted to funnel three beers -- especially considering I've never funneled anything before, and I don't really drink beer. Regardless, I apologize for covering most of your party guests in cheap beer, and I fully understand if I am not invited to the next gathering.

Dear Domini: Sorry I keep getting drunk and taking pictures of your boobs. I'm sure the novelty will wear off. Someday. Maybe.

Dear White People Who Got the Cab We Wanted: I feel really bad about implying you took the cab because you were racist, and telling you that "you better get your act together for Black History Month". That was somewhat inappropriate.

Dear Avenue A: I'm sorry my friend vomited all over you. That must have sucked.

Dear Emily: Wow - I can't imagine why I walked up to the guy you were talking to, even though I had never met him before, and told him "Dude, you are totally her type, you should tap that ass. You totally could if you wanted to." Hope that wasn't awkward, considering he was your good friend and all.

Dear Friend of Emily: Sorry if I scared you. But seriously, you could hit that if you put a little more effort into it.

Dear Patrons of Bar #2: I know what you're thinking -- "He probably should have stopped drinking before he thought it was a good idea to start doing the Electric Slide in the middle of the bar. By himself. Poorly." You're probably right.

Dear Anyone I've Forgotten: If I don't remember it, it doesn't count. Screw you.


Love,

Zander

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Forgetting my personal rule about never hanging out with coworkers other than the occasional lunch (in fear of them finding out that I'm not only lazy and stupid, but kind of a huge drunken asshole), I attended a social gathering last night with a few of them.

Of course 6 beers on an empty stomach got a decent buzz going, and I haven't quite decided which of the following got the biggest look of disgust from all in attendance:

• Proclaiming that I think vegetarians -- whom I referred to as "some picky motherfuckers" -- totally suck, and discovering at the end of my rant that half of my coworkers in attendance were vegetarian.
• Telling everyone how when I see cows, I get hungry. Seriously. Cow --> hamburger. It's an obvious connection. Stop looking at me like that.
• When my coworker would tell us something about her home in rural India, I would respond with "You know, I'm a really worldly person...but that just ain't right."
• After all that it really didn't matter what I said, so I completed my act by telling everyone that America is a toilet, and I was just biding my time until I could get the hell out

So I'm not really surprised that everyone gave me the look of death when I attempted to right all of these wrongs by announcing that I was one of the most tolerant people they will ever meet ("No, really, I care about poor people and stuff."), and I'm sure they just misinterpreted whatever it was that seemed to offend them.

I'll also be looking for brand new lunch partners next week, in case anyone in the financial district is interested.

Sloppy Hour

Jessica threw a happy hour last night, and somehow we all managed to wake up this morning with some dignity. We were joined by Aaron, who quickly regretted being social, and my co-worker Susan, who after only three martinis had this philosophical nugget to share: "I'm a photography." That's right Susan, you can be anything you want to be. Ah well, at least she's professional.

After all that though, I'm guessing the highlight was Jess, who not only got her groove thang on, but proceeded to engage in some sort of a dance-off with a hefty black girl on the other side of the bar who we suspect was smuggling midgets under her sweater. Alas, we didn't get a chance to check. Next time, we promise.

Alcohol Troubleshooting

Feeling lazy and uninspired today - well, moreso than usual - so I'm going to take the easy way out and post something that I had nothing to do with.

This list of Alcohol Troubleshooting Tips that Cristin was kind enough to forward along includes a lot of helpful advice. Consider the following:

Symptom: Drink unusually pale and tasteless.
Fault: Glass empty.
Action: Get someone to buy you another drink.

Symptom: Opposite wall covered with fluorescent lights.
Fault: You have fallen over backwards.
Action: Have yourself tied to the bar.

Symptom: Drink is crystal clear.
Fault: It's water. Somebody is trying to sober you up.
Action: Punch him.


To be honest I'm not sure about that last one, since someone might have been thoughtful enough to buy me a glass of pure vodka, but who am I to argue. I plan to carry this around with me for reference from now on, I'll let you know if it works out.

They're So Proud

Put together a bunch of the photos from Friday night, but in the interest of sparing you an entire album, here are a few choice ones for you.


Someone forwarded to one of our mothers, so let me share a direct quote: "You people have no shame and no PRIDE at all!"

Damn right, woman!

Achieving The Impossible

Every now and then you're lucky enough to be associated with someone who is so much of a drunk that you feel infinitely better about your own drinking habits.

For example...do you know how every city or town has that bar, the place where you can do whatever the fuck you want, and no one cares? Where people break shit, and everyone applauds. Where you can pass out on the floor in your own vomit (a mix of 10 cent wings and the cheapest beer on this side of the Atlantic), and the bartenders will just laugh at you and then go back to whatever they were doing before.

In New York, one such place is Off The Wagon, an NYU bar that you generally shouldn't be seen in after the age of 22.

So how my 25 year old friend managed to get kicked out of Off The Wagon still remains a mystery. Or as he put it, "i must have taken a shit behind the bar or something. i mean really, what do you have to do to get ejected from that joint". So true.

Either way, I feel much better about my own life, and justified in drinking more than usual this weekend. Three cheers for rationalization, kids.

Open Bar? We Better Have A Few Drinks Before We Go

Not sure when exactly this happened, but apparently 10pm is waaaayyy too late to start drinking. So when we were alerted to an open bar from 10-11 on Friday night, Jess and I still found it necessary to meet up at 8 and have a few drinks before getting to the club.

It was a pretty standard night of dumbassery for the crew, and we said several times that everyone at the club was very attractive until we realized that we always say that when we show up drunk.

I can also say with confidence that an open bar plus a new digital camera means that you will end up with a lot of unnecessarily raunchy pictures. (Check back later for those -- we have no shame.)

I'm sure emails with things I don't remember will start coming in shortly, although I will mention now that the Conversationalist of the Month award for January (and probably every month) goes to Jessica, after I didn't believe her when she told me the bartender was from Italy:

Jessica: Hey, where are you from??
Bartender: Venice.
Jessica: I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE FROM ITALY?!


Way to impress the foreigners, J. Ho.

Meet Dannilla

Already having way too much fun with the camera, and wanted to share this with you.



I'm sure you're thinking "what the fuck dude.", which is exactly what we thought when we found this ON THE SUBWAY last weekend, with "DANNILLA ON 40 BIRTHDAY" written on the back. I had promised to blog it, so here is Dannilla in all of her...er...womanly glory.

(Apologies for the crappy photo quality, but it's a picture of a bad picture, not much I could do.)

What's Better Than Reading About Stupid Drunks?

Why, having pictures to accompany the stories of course. Just bought this beauty of a digital camera, so hopefully over the next few weeks you'll get to see all your favorite assholes in action right here on the blog.

God help us all.

I Must Be A Genius By Now

According to a new study, "Alcohol may help mind stay sharp" and "a drink a day slows mental decline".

Now some of you may be thinking, "But Zander, you drink a lot more than one a day."

Let me lay some logic on you though: On the average Friday or Saturday night, I have about 15 drinks. So that's 30 drinks a week, a tad over the 7 you're thinking it should be.

But wait, oh less knowledgeable ones. I have to compensate for all those years between infancy and the ripe old age of 18, before I knew how much fun it was to drink until I couldn't see.

And that averages out to LESS than a drink a day the whole time I've been alive. I'm gonna start catching up this weekend though, just you watch.

Before you bother going through this again and looking for flaws in my logic, keep in mind that I drink more than you, therefore I am smarter than you. So just take my word for it, drink more, and I'll see you guys in Mensa.

Good Things DO Happen To Bad People!

By some stroke of evil luck, I won $150 in last night's MegaMillions drawing. As my friend Aaron put it, "wow, millions of starving kids in the world, and satan wins the lottery". Damn right!

Things I Could Spend My Fabulous Wealth On:
1) Charity to benefit tsunami survivors
2) Clothing for the homeless in these cold, cold winter days
3) My dear mother, who has given me so much in my life


Things I Will Be Spending My Fabulous Wealth On:
1) Excessive drinking.


Should be a good weekend.

In Case You Were Wondering

Just in case having a headache for 24 hours appeals to anyone out there, here are the necessary ingredients:

2 Vodka & Grapefruits
1 Smirnoff Ice
2 Caipirinhas
1 more Smirnoff Ice, cause you need something that fits neatly inside your coat on the subway
2 Vodka Tonics
1 Johnny Walker, neat
1 Long Island
2 more Vodka Tonics
1 Heineken
0 Water
0 Food

Consume within the span of 6 hours. Oh and make sure you act like an idiot in front of people you've just met, because having someone recount all of your assinine behavior the next day makes the headache that much more special.

Have fun kids.

Signs You Should Go Home (Even Though It's Not Even Midnight)

Met up with a small crew for happy hour after work last night, and it very quickly descended into mayhem. So to commemorate the first happy hour of 2005, I give you...Signs You Should Go Home (Even Though It's Not Even Midnight):

• After only three rounds of drinks, the bartender spots your propensity for true alcoholism...and offers you a free round of shots
• Dinner? What's that?
• One word: Karaoke. Although we have to thank Jessica for the most awesome rendition of Journey's "Separate Ways" that anyone has ever heard, evidenced by the standing ovation
• While spinning around on her stomach on a stool at the karaoke bar (Why? I wish I knew.), your friend topples over, knocks over several chairs, and needs the help of 3 waitstaff to get back on her feet
• At Bar #4, the aforementioned friend does a freak-ho dance in the middle of the bar. To "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper.
• And finally, a certain someone has a lengthy talk about oral sex with our cab driver which was heading towards the discussion of which races shave "down there" when the ride mercifully ended

Ah yes. It's good to be back.

P.S. Oh yeah, and Jess -- next time you're gonna call someone Chinese, maybe you should make sure they're actually ASIAN first. Christ.

Unfortunately, Pictures Really Do Last Longer

And without further ado, here are the pictures from me and Emily's trip to Thailand.

http://www.ofoto.com/I.jsp?c=b92okvb.a1uawqln&x=0&y=-wakxp2


I'd ask you not to think less of me, but I doubt that's even possible at this point anyway.

There's a Hero...If You Look Inside Your Heart...

I'm not sure I have the words to express the awe and admiration that this man from Bulgaria has inspired in the depths of my cold, empty soul:

Bulgarian doctors tested a man's blood-alcohol level five times before accepting it was 0.914 – nearly twice the amount considered to be life-threatening.

A breath test indicated blood-alcohol levels so high that police thought their equipment was broken, because the man remained conscious and talked with them.

A blood-alcohol level of 0.55 is considered potentially fatal.

If I knew where Bulgaria was I would totally send this dude a bottle of vodka or something.

Making America Proud

Finally got the Thailand pictures back, and although it will take me until at least tomorrow to sort them out, thought it was important to at least share this gem:

That's right Em, dip it low...or something...

Stockholm Here I Come

Apologies for the lack of a real blog post today, but I'm busy figuring out how soon I can move to Sweden based on this headline alone: Swedish Alcohol Consumption on the Rise

No idea what the actual article says, but I'm too hungover to actually read it. Thanks, Mom!

Tsunami...of FUN!

So we're back (alive and well, sorry to disappoint some of you), and needless to say, Thailand is an amazing and beautiful country. We were surrounded by all kinds of exotic creatures -- elephants, monkeys, whores. Actually more whores than anything else, but hey, every country needs a main attraction, right?

Naturally we had a few awesome drunken nights out, and I am completely oblivious to what might have occurred on New Years itself, but hopefully there will be pictures to share in the coming days that will shed some light on these events for all of us.