Tender was the bar

It's unclear now whether I will be able to make the project I have been working on for years due to uncircumnavigable circumstances. But, if I did, I think, it would resemble a little like the one above. I hope this fulfills my creative IOU to the universe.

The hour of puke

I participated in my first "Power hour" Monday night. I lost. And, puked.

"Are you ready to win?" the bartender asked just before the hour started.

"Yes. It's not about winning, anyway." I replied. "It's about drinking."

And apparently, for me, puking, too.

There was also a simultaneous secondary challenge, which was to guess the name and artist of the songs playing since each minute a new song plays tells the people participating to take the next shot. So, each minute -- a new song plays and another shot is consumed. This was very poignant for me since I live a minute at a time. Never, though, have I taken a shot every minute. There was only one way to find out if I could be a power drinker.

"That's how people get alcohol poisoning you idiot," my friend texted me a day later.

"It's cool," I replied back. "It was only beer shots."

I lasted for a mere 25 minutes; totaling 25 shots. Let's do the math, shall we.

1 shot = ~1.5 ounces
1.5 ounces x 25 shots = 37.5 ounces
1 pint of beer = ~16 ounces
37.5 ounces divided by 16 ounces = 2.3

So, I drank 2.3 pints of beer in 25 minutes. An amount and speed of beer intake I am not used to. I felt myself gag before excusing myself to the bathroom as quickly as I could. I barely made it on time before hurling myself over the stall. Luckily, I hit my target. If, there was a contest of who can puke the fastest, I would have won. I returned to my seat at the bar defeated, but, feeling a lot better. I continued to drink at my leisure and tried to guess the remaining songs as much as possible, which again, I did terrible on.

The winner of the contest was the gentleman sitting next to me. I think he drank all 60 shots and guessed all 60 songs. The prize of which were a shot of anything he wanted at the bar and more drink tickets that he could use at anytime.

On the way home, I was not as drunk as I should have since I puked. I had me some photo op time and thought it would be poignant to end the night with pictures of a pool shark. Pool reminds me so much of drinking since I am also terrible at the sport. At least, the practicing part is fairly enjoyable.



Here's a video from this year's St. Patrick's Day that I forgot to post.



My co-worker, A, invited me over to Half Kings in Chelsea to see her bf's band perform terrific keltic music.

Beer is the truth at $3 a pint plus tip

My research is going well. But, I need to cut back on my beer trips since going there everyday is burning a hole in my wallet, literally. Well, not my wallet, perse, but my favorite pants all have holes in them. And, I think it's from sitting. Sitting and fidgeting all the time that the fabric just wore out. This is the only explanation I can give to those mysterious holes. It looks like I will have to make a trip to the kids section since kid sizes are the only pants that can fit me. If I remember correctly, it's size 16 or 14 or something like that. Basically, the same measurement of a fat preteen.

Golden hour

It was fitting to have a strange golden cast blanket the scenery outside the window overlooking 1st Avenue early Friday evening.



Fitting in that the day before, celebs with golden-like stature died, like, Michael Jackson and Farah Fawcett to name a couple.



It was also fitting to take pictures of this fitting fleeting moment. The glow went from green, yellow then orange before I was finally able to take the camera out of my bag. Everyone at the bar remarked how strange the light was. "It's like what you see when you are wearing sunglasses," the bartender remarked.



It was the same color outside. Orange... or golden... or the color of beer... this must be why people in film call this time, "Golden hour," I thought to myself.

After a couple of more picture, I put the camera down and continued drinking. I know what to post this weekend, I thought as I slowly chugged my beer. I can call it "Golden hour" because the picture is gold, the beer is cold, and so is the hour. Meanwhile, the bar was playing Michael Jackson's music one after another and this made everything even seem more surreal.



After finally drinking enough beer, jack and cokes and gin and tonics, I remembered to get out of the bar and make my way home. Along the way, was the cutest dog I had ever seen. So, it was very hard to pass up the photo op.



The funniest thing was that this dog after seeing me take my camera out immediately started posing. It was as if the dog knew what a camera looks like. After a couple clicks here, the dog would change his/her pose. Finally, I got one in focus. Thanks, dog.



It was then time to go to the underground.

The internet life of Oh Oh

Oh Oh is my pen name, or rather, the name of my computer. My computer name, then, you could say. Oh Oh loves nothing more than to spend an aqueous weekend watching films on the internet. There was a time, when Oh Oh didn't exist and I had to actually go out of my house to rent movies. Those days are rare, if not, over.

Soon, Oh Oh will be able to order beer online and smoke cigarettes, digitally. But, I hope not. Oh, let's hope not.



It's actually good to get out of the house sometimes, especially on purple rain-y days.

In other news, I managed not to go out and drink on Thursday night, which enabled me to go out on Friday with a vengeance. Or so I thought. It seems like all those days hanging out during the week took a toll on me and I dozed off at the bar. Of course, I had aspirations of staying out and drinking all night long like Homer Simpson, my hero. I think my belly is almost as big as his.

"Do you find men with big bellies sexy?" I asked L, my new friend. I was walking her home in the center of Soho. We had spent a carefree time together shopping, drinking fancy drinks, and eating giant greasy burgers.

I glanced at her but there was no reply. Hopefully, she laughed inside. Because inner-laughter is the new LOL.