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Posts Tagged ‘Social Anxiety Disorder’

American Apparel brings us the new hotness in women’s wear.

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Lamé is the new dignity. Hardly anyone has it, but everyone wishes their ass was mirrored. Or something.

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I’ve recently adopted a Tuesday evening tradition. Well, it’s only been two times now, so maybe it’s more of a Tuesday evening coincidence. It’s something in the spirit of Mardi Gras – revolting hedonism on a Tuesday. This event, which I like to call “Shotdogs,” has everything but the girls gone wild.

The evening starts out at Welcome to the Johnsons, a perfectly divey bar in the Lower East Side in Manhattan (yuck, I know). I’ve been going to this bar for several years now and was something of a regular when I lived in that hood. I was there for the summer when fruit flies had infested the limes and so there was always a fine film of bugs and bug-parts on every drink you ordered. That was when I developed an irrational fear of bar fruit. I’ve witnessed the replacement of the toilet that was once so covered in band stickers, you could hardly tell what you were supposed to do with it. The new one is collecting its own piss stained collection. I’ve been there for brawls between guys who look like they fell out of a Ramones show thirty years ago – replete with blood trickling from their self-pierced safety pin earring holes. Anyway, as pleasant as all that sounds, there is one reason above all that I have been a Welcome to the Johnsons fan for so long: $2 drinks during happy hour (from when you wake up till 9 PM). You must not tell anyone about this. It’s a secret.

At Welcome to the Johnsons, the drinking begins. First, $2 whiskey and gingers. Then the shots. Last night we did a Red Headed Slut, followed by the bartender’s own concoction, Dr. Nut. Then we continue on with the regular drinks. All the while, the conversation gracefully flits from one topic to the other, weaving in nearby patrons and their opinions of The Flaming Lips, March Madness, olive juice, etc.

cupcackeeIn order for the Shotdog participants to remain reasonable, we all have to eat dinner. Dinner is hotdogs from Dash. In my case, vegetarian chili dogs. In other cases, processed meat monstrosities, choked with bacon, Fritos and other wonderful things. But that’s not all. Then come the chips and salsa from Festival Mexican Restaurant (outside of which, some guy drunkenly peed behind a Pathfinder while everyone in the bar watched with horror and glee) and then cupcakes (including one for the bartender) from Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Please keep in mind, I skipped the gym to partake in this madness.

By 9:00, we are all sufficiently bloated and return home to watch American Idol while we mainline salad and try to rehydrate.

Now, I don’t know if this particular evening’s activities can be approximated in our borough. I have a feeling that it is possible, but only in Williamsburg, where girls in leggings and guys in hoodies are a dime a dozen. The real issue here is that while the people at Johnsons and the people in Williamsburg are all disgusting hipsters, the ones at Johnsons are much skeezier. In my mind, this goes a long way. So, until an absurdly underpriced dive bar and an absurdly overpriced hot dog vendor move into my current hood, I think I’ll just keep hitting up the L.E.S for my shotdog fix.

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Hot and/or Not: Jimmy Fallon hosting a late night program. Fallon is in talks to take over Conan O’Brien’s time slot once O’Brien moves onto Tonight Show status. Interesting. I sometimes think I too might be good at that….hosting a late night talk show. Since I don’t try to avoid talking to strangers or have a minor case of social anxiety disorder. Oh wait, yes I do. Anyway, who knows? Maybe Fallon does have some secret talk show talent. Who cares if he can’t get through a Saturday Night Live skit without bursting into laughter, disrupting the flow of the entire skit. Not me, that’s for sure. Seriously though, I do like it when that happens. I mean, doesn’t everyone? But can talk show hosts mess up their lines? I think it’s not so fun/funny when a host can’t properly conduct a interview. Oh well. But I will say, I don’t hate Jimmy Fallon. A lot of my friends do. But like I just said, I don’t. He’s got some charm and little bit of charisma. Maybe not enough to carry a show five nights a week, but hey, Jay Leno’s made a career out of sucking. So maybe it’s not so hard.

PS. I’d like to thank Pete Smith for linking me to the NYTimes article, “Jimmy Fallon Said to Be in NBC’s Late-Night Plans.” You’re the best.

There’s your stupid shout out, Pete.

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