My Weekend

Friday was my typical night of Intervention, except that it was a repeat of the Laney episode which I had seen at least twice before. I could not watch Laney take pills in an attempted overdose and see how the EMTs were not allowed to help her if she was conscious and told them not to, which she was doing against her own best interest of survival. So I watched some Best Week Ever crap and waited for the next 'Vention, a classic with a screeching gambler whose parents had to sell their house to cover his debts, and an agoraphobe who could only leave her house to meet her shopping addiction, until her agoraphobia took over and she was forced to impulsively buy whatever came up on the Home Shopping Network.
Saturday I got up and out and off to the Oysterfest on Stone Street in lower Manhattan. Now pay close attention- the Oysterfest, attended for the second year in a row by me, is in my TOP TWO fun things to do in ALL OF NYC!!! (The other one is the parties at the Hotel QT, where they have a swimming pool in the lobby, along with a swim-up bar, group sauna and group steam room.) The Oysterfest has a respectable crowd with a smattering of the chic, the freak and the funk. There is live music, all kinds of beers (we drank nothing but Moretti all day), oysters ripped open right in front of ya, clams, oyster stew (the only drawback of the day, with its literally three little oyster chips in there), lobster bisque, crab cakes, bbq chicken sandwiches, mini po-boys, pulled pork sandwiches, and a great deal with a Moretti and a slice of pizza for $6- the pizza part of this deal costing $1!!! We got prime seats at a table the moment we arrived, just steps from the Moretti tent and 3 oyster stands, and never ever left them all day. There were even good bathroom facilites close by- a restaurant ten feet from our table had excellent clean & stocked toilettes all the day, for those of you who care about this sort of detail, and there are many of you, admit it. I ate probably thirty oysters amongst other delicacies from the above list. We made new friends, saw old ones, and stuffed our craws, while engulfed in perfect weather and a setting which mirrored Amsterdam, France, or a German beer fest. Exquisite!!
While wrapping up the night, some drunk dude with an oven stuffer roaster gut grabbed me and started telling me that I was super cute but that I was too short. "Too short. Too short!," he said to me. I said, "Well, you're too fat," and patted him on his belly. This caused no shortage of hilarity to Sarah's friend Jeff, a ball buster himself. He could not even believe I said it. Well, Jeff, I am not that short and I will NOT be called out for it!
Sunday I cleaned my desk area in my home office. I have been doing a lot of professional organizing work lately and it feels remiss to have just finished organizing and filing into binders a huge towering raft of papers for a client and then to see a mess on my own desk. So I TCB'ed that. It looks great and I freed up a lot of drawer space for my myriad projects. Feels great! Looks great! (In fact just before creating this entry, I overhauled my storage closet with my awesome roommate Sarah, a job done handily in just over an hour with the two of us soldiers on it.) After making my desk less pesky, more desky, I split for the gym to take a yoga class with some teacher I had never seen before. One of the poses she had us do indicated that we were to put the heel of our foot right in our perineum. I am not sure half of us knew what that was, but I sure did and opted out. Try sitting with all your weight on your own foot in your ass! After this fiasco, I put my feet nowhere near my ass and walked over to the South Street Seaport to meet Andy with the plan of going dancing and hammock swinging at the outdoor Green Fairy Garden on the grounds of Spiegelworld. When we walked up to the ticket booth I got flustered and could not remember the name of the event, so I mumbled "Whatever it is you've got going on tonight I want tickets for that," to which the boothmaster replied "You want to see Absinthe at 7:30?" Now many of you know that I have been trying for weeks to see this show Absinthe inside the actual Spiegeltent, and planned for it to be the crown jewel in my birthday celebration, but nobody could go, friends had to work, it is kind of expensive, etc. So like a birthday balloon, I let that one go. I believed that Friday night was the final performance anyway, so I did not expect to ever see this highly lauded show. I about fell over when the guy said the show was going on that very night! I explained to Andy what it was and he was down for it, until I told him the price. Then I convinced him to pay it, until we learned it would likely be standing room only. Then we found out that standing room was just over half the price of seats. We went back and forth like this thru all these phases of understanding about the show. Finally I said to Andy that I would be willing to endure all circumstances presented to us for the sake of seeing this show because every now and then in life you have to see a SPECTACLE, and this world-class acrobatic, burlesque, Berlin-esque, bawdy, hilarious musical cabaret was looking to be quite a spectacle indeed. Andy countered with the classic and well -serving "It is better to regret something you have done than something you haven't done," and moments later we had SRO for the spectacle. And it was very much so!!! Nudity! Hot bodies! A charming and decadent host named Gazillionaire who habitually shoved his crotch into the audience members' faces, female and male. Rollerskating acts! A girl inside a HUGE BUBBLE! A William Tell trick! An androgynous singer who looked more like a man but sang like a castrato practically, and who also did a spot-on impression of Janis Joplin! A guy who transformed into a woman during his act and proceeded to mount a pogo stick tricked out to look like a motorcyle with a side mirror, in lucite stiletto heels, and bounce on it staccato fast with no hands because his hands were busy juggling machetes simultaneously, just a yard from the audiences faces! UNREAL!!! All of this, mind you, took place inside a beautiful "tent" made of teak and mirrors and stained glass, and was witnessed by one of the coolest, best-looking and well-dressed crowds I have seen in NYC, land of cool crowds. Andy and I had grins plastered on our faces the whole time, and cried out in delight and whooped with laughter too throughout the highly entertaining show. And as far as our brokebacks hurting from standing, trusty Andy taught me a pigeon-toed, bent-kneed Kung Fu stance that uses different muscles than the ones normally used for standing up in such a situation as this, and each time I appeared uncomfortable in the stance, he would lean over and whisper in my ear, "It's okay grasshopper. Go lower, sink into the Earth!" Very encouraging. After many rounds of applause, we left, Andy thanking me effusively for my always stocked cabinet of fun things to do, and me thanking him for his spontaneity and follow through. When we went outside the tent, we took a better look around than we had when we were rushing into the show. What a sight for brown eyes! (Sometimes I make up my own nonsense phrases) There was a view of all three bridges from Manhat to BK, and a large yellow half moon hanging in the sky underneath the bridges like a sloth. Then there was a red and blue striped big top with mini xmas ornament sized disco balls strung back and forth underneath the top of it, over our heads. There was even furniture inside to take a dance break on. The view to the other side of the tent was a big clipper ship looming over the dock. Quite an unusual juxtaposition. It was as if we had run away to join the circus and the ship was what had sailed us there.
The Melting Pot was having their 5th anniversary, and it appeared they had a loyal and regular following. I have been feeling a bit old lately after my latest birthday, and so I just kind of stood there and tapped my toe to the rhythm, left in the role of observer. But then when some great piece of house business kicked in, much to my surprise, I started throwing down and was stunned by my arsenal of moves, moves I didn't even know I had, or had forgotten about! I was young again! Dancing a fool! So I cut their rug, while gazing out at the gorgeous view of the bridges and the bad moon rising, and clapping my hands, stomping my feet and hootin and hollerin with the multiculti crowd. Again Andy and I were beaming. Things looked good, things sounded good, our bouncy bodies felt good...and then the MC introduced a pair of brother DJs, stepping up to the one and twos, who were at most 15 years old, probably 14 and 15. That window into my youth that opened when the great song came on slammed shut. Old again! So we took a load off on one of the daybeds and drank seltzers (see? OLD!) , and finally decided to get out of there. Damn that was a satisfying scenario. Places and things like this are the reason why I never think the other American cities I visit are as fun. I don't care what you say, Chicago does not have shenanigans like this!