finally, a nightspot I can handle
[sunday] 06 04 06
I think the highlight of my weekend—besides staying in bed Saturday playing on the internet and reading magazines until 4:30—had to be finding a bar that has $1.50 cans of PBR. And I’m told that they show Cubs games as well. Pretty sweet I tell you. Sweet enough that I’ll make the trek from my place on 14th street all the way to 108th street just to go to this place. I think it’s called the Lion’s Den. This is a welcome break from the sweaty, loud, tacky bars around NYU that remind me of a KAMS with a better-dressed and older crowd. Thank God. No matter how cheap the beer is, I can only sit in places like that for so long.
Last night was a nice change of pace. After having a nice dinner at a café on St. Marks that thought they were pretty important (and had prices to reflect), Molly came down with her friend Levi, another magazine intern who stays at Columbia, and we drank some cheap Trader Joe’s wine, listened to music and talked before going out go a comedy club. We arrived at the club just in time to literally hear the last two minutes of the routine, but at least now I know where to go for funny BYOB comedy in NYC. From here we went to the PBR bar. At first we were told they were out of PRB cans. About an hour or so later, I see people drinking cans so one of the guys were with goes to buy a round of aluminum for the table. He come back empty handed because the bartended said they’re still out. Hmmm. Something’s fishy here. There were definitely people in the small bar holding PBR cans. Well, it turns out the guy who attempted the purchase waits to tip until the end of the night so he hadn’t tipped on a single trip yet. Understandably, the bartended was pissed. Sure, you can do that at Murphy’s but not in Manhattan. The bartended was definitely punishing us for what he perceived to be a table of stingy college kids. Eventually someone else from the table, who had been tipping all night, was successful with the Pibbers. All’s well that ends well.
Free Shakespeare starts in Central Park next week.
I dealt with my first bitchy New Yorker today at an H+M in SoHo. The woman started yelling at me about taking too much time in the dressing room. It was something along the lines of “Hey Blondie, I know you want to make sure your girlfriends think you look cute, but there’s a line out here and you don’t need to keep going in and out of the damn dressing room.” I’m not even blonde. To this I promptly shot back “Hey lady, calm yourself. I waited in line for 20 minutes too and I’m going to take as long as I need in here.” She then told everyone in the line that the reason they were waiting so long was because of the “bitch in the third dressing room.” Oh these high fashion SoHoers.
It seems like my job at PM is going to be amazing. They’re lacking in the intern department so my help is definitely needed and I really don’t think I’ll ever be bored. I start on a major project Monday that should keep me busy for the first three or four weeks and we’ll see where it goes from there. My supervisor seems helpful, nice and down to Earth, and she’s a LOST fan. Good shit.
I’m signing off. Its almost 2 and I have to get up at 730. Gah. The gym doesn’t open early enough for me to get in a workout before work. Damn. I’ll have to pump my iron at night.
Mom always said don’t inhale helium
I wish the mayor of my town ran a souvenir shop
I think the highlight of my weekend—besides staying in bed Saturday playing on the internet and reading magazines until 4:30—had to be finding a bar that has $1.50 cans of PBR. And I’m told that they show Cubs games as well. Pretty sweet I tell you. Sweet enough that I’ll make the trek from my place on 14th street all the way to 108th street just to go to this place. I think it’s called the Lion’s Den. This is a welcome break from the sweaty, loud, tacky bars around NYU that remind me of a KAMS with a better-dressed and older crowd. Thank God. No matter how cheap the beer is, I can only sit in places like that for so long.
Last night was a nice change of pace. After having a nice dinner at a café on St. Marks that thought they were pretty important (and had prices to reflect), Molly came down with her friend Levi, another magazine intern who stays at Columbia, and we drank some cheap Trader Joe’s wine, listened to music and talked before going out go a comedy club. We arrived at the club just in time to literally hear the last two minutes of the routine, but at least now I know where to go for funny BYOB comedy in NYC. From here we went to the PBR bar. At first we were told they were out of PRB cans. About an hour or so later, I see people drinking cans so one of the guys were with goes to buy a round of aluminum for the table. He come back empty handed because the bartended said they’re still out. Hmmm. Something’s fishy here. There were definitely people in the small bar holding PBR cans. Well, it turns out the guy who attempted the purchase waits to tip until the end of the night so he hadn’t tipped on a single trip yet. Understandably, the bartended was pissed. Sure, you can do that at Murphy’s but not in Manhattan. The bartended was definitely punishing us for what he perceived to be a table of stingy college kids. Eventually someone else from the table, who had been tipping all night, was successful with the Pibbers. All’s well that ends well.
Free Shakespeare starts in Central Park next week.
I dealt with my first bitchy New Yorker today at an H+M in SoHo. The woman started yelling at me about taking too much time in the dressing room. It was something along the lines of “Hey Blondie, I know you want to make sure your girlfriends think you look cute, but there’s a line out here and you don’t need to keep going in and out of the damn dressing room.” I’m not even blonde. To this I promptly shot back “Hey lady, calm yourself. I waited in line for 20 minutes too and I’m going to take as long as I need in here.” She then told everyone in the line that the reason they were waiting so long was because of the “bitch in the third dressing room.” Oh these high fashion SoHoers.
It seems like my job at PM is going to be amazing. They’re lacking in the intern department so my help is definitely needed and I really don’t think I’ll ever be bored. I start on a major project Monday that should keep me busy for the first three or four weeks and we’ll see where it goes from there. My supervisor seems helpful, nice and down to Earth, and she’s a LOST fan. Good shit.
I’m signing off. Its almost 2 and I have to get up at 730. Gah. The gym doesn’t open early enough for me to get in a workout before work. Damn. I’ll have to pump my iron at night.
Mom always said don’t inhale helium
I wish the mayor of my town ran a souvenir shop
posted by Erin at 1:03 AM
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