You know it was a good Friday night when it's Monday and you're still tired as hell. It especially makes me feel guilty when I look at Geo, who seems to have come down with the flu, a respiratory infection, bronchitis and a cold all at once. Also, his throat is sore and his voice is half gone. Meanwhile, I'm prancing around in the kitchen making pancakes and singing along to "Just Want You To Know" by the Backstreet Boys. He probably wants to smack me. I thought I had flu symptoms a couple of days ago but they've disappeared under the deluge of orange juice and cold medicine I pre-emptively attacked with. That's my philosophy, respond with every weapon in the arsenal. In response to a few chills that may have just been the result of a minor hangover, I dropped the equivalent of a cold medicine H-bomb and any flu germs I had have scattered for cover.
So on Friday, me, Geo, Tony, Mike and Alex sent my cousins off to Houston/the Philippines and Steve off to Australia (don't worry he's coming back) with some Aussie burgers at The Sunburnt Cow. Don't ask me why an Australian guy, going back to Australia, wanted to eat at an Australian restaurant in his last shindig in New York City. Afterwards, using Magic Drunken Warmth for fuel, we trekked through some random park to a karaoke bar called... wait for it... "Sing Sing." I guess it's similar to the prison in that the rooms are small and people peep at you through the door. No one tosses salads at the karaoke place though, it's too expensive. Time is money. The rooms are $45 per hour and 2 bucks per song. New York city has balls of steel when it comes to pricing. Steve picked up the tab, refusing all offers, which was higher than my rent. When I woke up the next morning and soberly contemplated the bill, I decided that in all fairness, one of us should probably give Steve a blowjob. And since Tony, Mike and Alex are the only single ones among the revelers... Oh come on. Straight is just a state of mind. (And remember Steve, it's not gay if THEY'RE sucking YOUR dick.)
Before the workers kicked us out in the morning, they delivered all the shots we had ordered (thinking they didn't get our previous orders) at once. 20 of them to be precise (to add to the previous 40 or so). I don't remember who drank them all but I think it was me and Steve mainly, since Alex had bounced by then. Without saying goodbye. This is apparently his modus operandus after a heavy night of drunken debauchery, Steve says he follows a homing pigeon in his head that tells him how to get home.
The rest of the pics are here and I laugh out loud every time I look at them. God bless people who are sober enough to take embarrasing pictures of the drunken ones. My one regret is that in all my SoCo and limeyness I completely forgot to give Steve the teeny wedding gift I got for Maria and Rhandy. I guess Girlie will be schlepping it to Australia in March.
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