nickels gratuated from graduate school not too long ago, so we went out to celebrate saturday. we started at the crocodile lounge, which, while playing pretty good music and having some of the nicest barstaff around, isn't all that. $5 bud light is not made up for by free, salt-ridden pizza. give me capone's any day over that shit.
anyway, we moved on to grassroots, which turned out to be a bust because nickels only had his birth certificate and college id and that is apparently not enough to convince that guy who's always sitting on the stool that he's 21. we rolled across the street to bull mccabe's. i haven't been here since tampson took me there about 4 or 5 years ago, either before or just after i moved to le cite.
kirin ichiban and i wanted to crack some balls, so we got on the old pool list. here's the funny thing about playing pool in bars: sometimes you play with some really fun folks and you all have a good time. see: last week's trip to brooklyn social club. sometimes, you play with some totally anal retentive arseholes who seem to think that, despite being at a crowded bar at 12 am, it's totally acceptable to make you call all of your shots and play by every fucking rule in the book. "oh, no, you hit our ball, that's a scratch". dude, go to a fucking pool hall if you're gonna act that way. rules are all fun and stuff, but we're fucking around here. plus, we shouldn't have to play by your rules, we can all make up some new ones together! like i get to whack you in the nads with the short stick after you grumble at my teammate's ass kicking pool abilities. anyway, justice was served when we beat the ever loving shit out of them and the team that followed, including a beautiful three-in-a-row streak that ended with the eight ball for me. woo!
we'd had just enough of that, and nickels had taken it upon himself to finish my fucking widmer bros, which angered me, so we popped over to sing sing. normally by the time i get to karaoke i'm, uh, hammered. but we were all severely buzzed at this point. which worked out well, since there was an 80 minute wait for songs.
this gave us plenty of time to cajole sake shots out of the guys sitting next to us, get kirin ichiban drunk enough to sing, for nickels to bite the fucking shit out of my finger (i can't for the life of me remember why), for people to sing "champagne supernova" three times (what's up with this song? why do so many people want to fucking sing it?), for me to sing "don't stop believin'" with xx and "manic monday" with wafflehouse, and for about 6 dudes all wearing the same button-down striped shirts to convince us to come with them and hang out in their room (there is no way to make this not sound like a freshman girl's first time at a frat party).
so we went. we were three girls and two guys, so we were safe enough. they paid for everything though, can't knock that. plus we got in some beasties, allman brothers, lots of madonna and tom petty. it seems that given the chance, i will become a karaoke whore...oops. but when no one's singing, i'll do it!
per usual, we got ejected when the place shut down and proceeded to spend the next 1.5 hours on the street talking to another group of guys all wearing button-down shirts. sadly, none of them, nor my own friends, agreed with my theory that since it was already getting light, we might as well go down to the staten island ferry for a sunrise cruise. losers. next time!
and once again, the sun was above the horizon when i finally closed my eyes. these early sunrises are gonna be the death of me.