Party & Bullshit

"In my room at home I secretly practiced the Charleston, in case I was ever in a situation where I'd be asked to do it. I'd caught on that among the more glamorous crowd at Barnard and Columbia, it was very much the thing to emulate the customs of the Roaring Twenties. In addition to the revival of the Charleston, this involved a lot of flamboyant drinking and the throwing of wild and lavish parties. The previous spring, thirty students had sold pints of blood to finance a May Wine Festival at the swanky Essex House -- on whose neon sign that night the E and the first s had been totally blacked out, according to later legend. Blood and wine -- there was something about the decadent absurdity of that party that captured my imagination. Never had I imagined that pleasure could be pursued with such seriousness." - Joyce Johnson, Minor Characters
Pleasure this weekend was pursued with such seriousness, even the serious kids were like, "THIS is serious." Be kind, please rewind, to Friday night, when Rufus, myself, Jenka, and Maple (welcome back to the blog, Maple!) ventured into the loft heaven that is Chelsea to bartend a private jazz party hosted by Music For Tomorrow, featuring the Sugartone Brass Brand, @ 136 10th Ave (btw 18th & 19th St.). The band was on fire and, of the nearly 150 people there, not one was unenthusiastic about consuming as many drinks as possible. I might add that everyone was beautiful, the loft was insane (some Australian guy's), and oh, we bartended the shit out of the shit. I'm not going to lie -- people loved us. People wanted our drinks, they wanted to drink the drinks that we made, and, with good reason, they hoped to get wasted from our drinks.
[[Right now I want to give a shout-out to Holly and Lara, whose WBAR radio show, Tender Muttons, is currently streaming live (and every Monday, 6-8pm); they are blasting Solange, Dirty Projectors, Hot Chip, and WHAAA, Lil' Wayne - enjoy Riker's, sad to see you go, but know you'll be back. Also, I just ran with Rufus for about thirty minutes, outside, and my heart almost exploded; I am dying, out of shape, need to run more. Might not be able to walk tomorrow.]]
Anyway, back to Friday night: Jenka and I, in the course of making drinks for others, may have also sampled the Bootlegger Vodka which we were, incidentally, promoting. The exclusive alcohol of the MFT party, Bootlegger is distilled six times in upstate NY and also gets people fucked (and fucked up). Vodka Tonics, Vodka Sodas, Vodka punch -- anything Vodka, you name it. Shots, wine, beer, and Vodka. Blends. By 9pm, we are drunk (but so is EVERYONE else). At around 10 o'clock, our station (we were split into two) is completely out of alcohol and ice. That was fast. So I guess we'll go see how Rufus and Maple are doing. In the course of this action, I somehow end up talking to a girl who attends NU school -- she is rolling a joint on the counter. WHAT IS GOING ON AT THIS PARTY?! Rufus looks up a few minutes later and I have extended my services to that of the role of DJ, and grinding with some hot girl who is one drink away from CTRL + ALT + DLTING (why she is dancing with me). The blasphemous, but oh so good Miley/Notorious mash-up is my song of choice to get people rowdy: SUCCESS! 11pm, we gotz our monies and are out da mofuckin' door --> easily $150/each, CASH MONEY HOES. Easiest monies I ever made. We are fucking jacked. Cab uptown to Village Pourhouse; round of beers, round of Jim Beam shots, BLENDS, I tell the bartender I love her, get her to do a shot with us, and somehow we get her # and e-mail? I like where the night is headed, if it's walkin' my way. Not really sure what happened next, but we are back to 9 & 3/4 and some friends join us for some treats at Hogwarts International Playhouse. Bed by 4.
Saturday night recap to follow tomorrow...