It's 2:16 in the dumb dark humid New York City morning and right now i'm listening to the sounds of small forklifts and burly men weaving in and out of eachother a couple of blocks away, down at the fish market on the Seaport. It stinks of fish around here, but I can't complain because that's all part of the big beauteous CULTURE that this god Blessed (forsaken) town emits. Just the other night i was dangling myself drunk and drowsy from my third floor window (cheese's window) and I decided to take a walk on down to the middle of the action to see what kind of things went down there. So i put my most coolest scariest protective gray hoody on and skunked down to the bustling stinking fish market. There was bright flashing lights all over the place and very small ethnically mustachioed men wearing scuffed boots tooling around willy nilly on there fancy forklifts. I wasn't contented to merely watch from a distance, be the cool hoody'd guy who stays in the shadows leaning up against the brick wall, slowly snapping his fingers to some smooth doo-wop beat. I had to go in for a closer look. So i skunked into the middle of the mess, and immediately i realized what a BIG FUCKING MISTAKE I MADE. These people aren't joking around, apparently, and they didn't think it was funny or impressive or empowering of me to be nonchalantly braving my way through their workplace. My senses were almost immediately overloaded and i think the combination of all those mustache's and short fat bellied latino men and the stench of fresh trout in the air made me begin to hallucinate. People were flying by from all angles, throwing entire whales over my head and humping walruses in my periphery. I saw an authentic seven piece mexican salsa band, complete with an acoustic bass fifteen times the size of a normal instrument, being played by a homunculus mexican woman wearing a sombrero and a necktie which had a picture of the taco bell dog, who was also sporting a tie which featured himself wearing a tie.
When i thought i had finally made it out of the maze, I realized that I had only stumbled into the belly of the beast. This is when a ring of forklifts began circling me in an aggressive manner, accompanied by pistol shots to the sky and a repeating chorus of "AREEBA! AREEBA! ON-DA-LAY! ON-DA-LAY!". I understood from this that they hadn't welcomed me into their inner social network, that they didn't have room for one more vigilante cool cowboy wearing a hoody, following nobody's rules but his own. Especially not the rools of speling.
And then they started the heckling. I heard people yelling out the name "SCHKUNK" over and over again, and i eventually caught on that they were talking about me. They had dubbed me Schkunk for some reason that only a chalupa slinging fish monger could understand. But i wasn't going to just stand there looking so cool with my hands in my hoody pockets and do nothing. So I said " Stop calling me Schkunk!", but in a much more forceful way than you'd expect from the way it looks when put into words. Then I picked up the closest thing to me, which was a live lobster scuttling by my feet, and I picked it up and chomped into it. "Crunch!", it said with a crunch.
That got their attention. I heard a hush come over the crowd, and one meek gravelly voice from the burning ring of forklifts muttered "no me gusta". No me gusta indeed, funny-bones.
Needless to say that got the Schkunk talk nixed real quick, and the ring of forklifts that once enfolded me slowly opened revealing the bosom of the Atlantic ocean. Or the East River or something like that. I dunno. I stuffed that lobster in my hoody pocket and skunked away down towards the pier. That's when i noticed it wasn't a lobster. IT WAS A ROCK LOBSTER!!!!
When I got to the pier I walked with my head down to avoid eye contact with the non-hispanically ethnic but still as threatening youths that were hooting and hollering and generally making a big noise of themselves. They walked in groups of about three or four and when anyone came near them or walked into a fifteen foot radius of them, they would flap their arms like bully pterodactyls and make very high and low pitched grunts. Sometimes they would use words like "fuck" and "potat-uh" with the especially intimidating pronunciation with the "uh" instead of "o" at the end. This would flap anybody who wasn't quite as unflappable as me. But I kept on and soon found myself partnerless in a partner-filled dance section of the pier. This struck me as unusual because of the late hour. It was about 2 or 3 in the a.m. All around me were couples in various stages of attractiveness (ranging from steamy to slumpy) doing the intimate dance known as the tango. I was confused, but even more than that, i was attracted to a particular lady wearing a red dress and red high heel shoes. She moved like a goddess, a tango goddess, and she was ASIAN. So i did what any red-blooded man at the peak of his sexaul prowess would have done. I walked to the end of the peer, put 50 cents into the big swivel binoculars that are there to see the statue of liberty, and I turned them right around and aimed them at my lady in red. She was magnificent. Unfortunately, her eyesight was just as sharp as her dancing, because she spotted me nearly in no time. It didnt help that i was only about 30 feet away from her, and the only person at that end of the pier. She stopped dancing and made me feel uncomortable for staring at her. So i swivelled the binocs around and tried to see lady liberty. But it was dark and foggy so I only saw her shadow. I felt like i was peeping in on her after a steamy shower, and that made me feel SEXY.
After that I thought maybe it was time for me to walk on back to my (cheese's) apartment and hit the old hay. I walked around the fish market, because i already proved my point to that lot of bozos and hooch-hounds, buying a frosted donut and a package of sun-flower seeds from a sassy street vendor on the way. I gave her five dollars and when she gave me the coin part of the change, i said 'thanks', just to start the ball rolling on the end of our exchange. But she thought i was going to leave without the paper part of my change came back, and she said with all her sass and pride "Easy honey, not so fast", and some other demeaning things like "woah, quicksilver, not so fast", and "easy honey, not so fast" and so on until i swiped the merchandise from her and stomped my way home.
When i finally got back i turned on the BOOB tube and sure enough, true to its name sake, there were giant naked BOOBS on the screen. I checked what channel it was and found that it was the local access station for manhatten. I kept watching and over and over all i saw were 15 second long ads for exotic asian escorts, she-males, and horny hotties waiting for my call. Obviously, i kept watching for a while until one particular ad for naughty nurses caught me by suprise. It showed a very sick man, ailing from god knows what, lying in his hospital bed with an iv tube and a hospital smock on. Then, a very hot and naughty blonde nurse with giant bazoongas came into the room with mischeif written all over her. She first tied up the very sick man's hands to the bed post, then proceeded to lift up his smock and reveal to me, and any other poor schmuck who might be flipping the channels that evening, HIS BALLS. They'll show you balls on local access tv around here if you let them. There's more to this story but I'll have to finish the rest of it another time. I've already written enough, and if you've read this whole thing, i commend you for your patience. You're a trooper, and meat wallet thanks you for your support.
Go get 'em, tiger.
When i thought i had finally made it out of the maze, I realized that I had only stumbled into the belly of the beast. This is when a ring of forklifts began circling me in an aggressive manner, accompanied by pistol shots to the sky and a repeating chorus of "AREEBA! AREEBA! ON-DA-LAY! ON-DA-LAY!". I understood from this that they hadn't welcomed me into their inner social network, that they didn't have room for one more vigilante cool cowboy wearing a hoody, following nobody's rules but his own. Especially not the rools of speling.
And then they started the heckling. I heard people yelling out the name "SCHKUNK" over and over again, and i eventually caught on that they were talking about me. They had dubbed me Schkunk for some reason that only a chalupa slinging fish monger could understand. But i wasn't going to just stand there looking so cool with my hands in my hoody pockets and do nothing. So I said " Stop calling me Schkunk!", but in a much more forceful way than you'd expect from the way it looks when put into words. Then I picked up the closest thing to me, which was a live lobster scuttling by my feet, and I picked it up and chomped into it. "Crunch!", it said with a crunch.
That got their attention. I heard a hush come over the crowd, and one meek gravelly voice from the burning ring of forklifts muttered "no me gusta". No me gusta indeed, funny-bones.
Needless to say that got the Schkunk talk nixed real quick, and the ring of forklifts that once enfolded me slowly opened revealing the bosom of the Atlantic ocean. Or the East River or something like that. I dunno. I stuffed that lobster in my hoody pocket and skunked away down towards the pier. That's when i noticed it wasn't a lobster. IT WAS A ROCK LOBSTER!!!!
When I got to the pier I walked with my head down to avoid eye contact with the non-hispanically ethnic but still as threatening youths that were hooting and hollering and generally making a big noise of themselves. They walked in groups of about three or four and when anyone came near them or walked into a fifteen foot radius of them, they would flap their arms like bully pterodactyls and make very high and low pitched grunts. Sometimes they would use words like "fuck" and "potat-uh" with the especially intimidating pronunciation with the "uh" instead of "o" at the end. This would flap anybody who wasn't quite as unflappable as me. But I kept on and soon found myself partnerless in a partner-filled dance section of the pier. This struck me as unusual because of the late hour. It was about 2 or 3 in the a.m. All around me were couples in various stages of attractiveness (ranging from steamy to slumpy) doing the intimate dance known as the tango. I was confused, but even more than that, i was attracted to a particular lady wearing a red dress and red high heel shoes. She moved like a goddess, a tango goddess, and she was ASIAN. So i did what any red-blooded man at the peak of his sexaul prowess would have done. I walked to the end of the peer, put 50 cents into the big swivel binoculars that are there to see the statue of liberty, and I turned them right around and aimed them at my lady in red. She was magnificent. Unfortunately, her eyesight was just as sharp as her dancing, because she spotted me nearly in no time. It didnt help that i was only about 30 feet away from her, and the only person at that end of the pier. She stopped dancing and made me feel uncomortable for staring at her. So i swivelled the binocs around and tried to see lady liberty. But it was dark and foggy so I only saw her shadow. I felt like i was peeping in on her after a steamy shower, and that made me feel SEXY.
After that I thought maybe it was time for me to walk on back to my (cheese's) apartment and hit the old hay. I walked around the fish market, because i already proved my point to that lot of bozos and hooch-hounds, buying a frosted donut and a package of sun-flower seeds from a sassy street vendor on the way. I gave her five dollars and when she gave me the coin part of the change, i said 'thanks', just to start the ball rolling on the end of our exchange. But she thought i was going to leave without the paper part of my change came back, and she said with all her sass and pride "Easy honey, not so fast", and some other demeaning things like "woah, quicksilver, not so fast", and "easy honey, not so fast" and so on until i swiped the merchandise from her and stomped my way home.
When i finally got back i turned on the BOOB tube and sure enough, true to its name sake, there were giant naked BOOBS on the screen. I checked what channel it was and found that it was the local access station for manhatten. I kept watching and over and over all i saw were 15 second long ads for exotic asian escorts, she-males, and horny hotties waiting for my call. Obviously, i kept watching for a while until one particular ad for naughty nurses caught me by suprise. It showed a very sick man, ailing from god knows what, lying in his hospital bed with an iv tube and a hospital smock on. Then, a very hot and naughty blonde nurse with giant bazoongas came into the room with mischeif written all over her. She first tied up the very sick man's hands to the bed post, then proceeded to lift up his smock and reveal to me, and any other poor schmuck who might be flipping the channels that evening, HIS BALLS. They'll show you balls on local access tv around here if you let them. There's more to this story but I'll have to finish the rest of it another time. I've already written enough, and if you've read this whole thing, i commend you for your patience. You're a trooper, and meat wallet thanks you for your support.
Go get 'em, tiger.
posted by Doug at 11:19 PM
1 Comments:
Hoot!
Wow. It sounds like you're squeezing every drop of substance out of NYC, and then using it to sop up some completely fictitious fluid and then wringing it out again.
Although, much like the city itself, it's hard to see where the truth ends and the lies begin. Why, one of the last times I was in New York City it was in the middle of miserable January and it was COLD. Wind whipping between all those sky scrapers, blowing shards of ice and filth and misery into my eyes. I have very sensitive teeth AND a sinus problem, so I had to mouth breathe all the way to the Natural History Museum on foot. The whole time my eyes were watering so profusely from the pain and the freezing wind that I could barely see. I knocked into some busy assholes and got the cursory evil looks (I think), but pressed onward. When I finally got into the museum, the temperature difference made my nose immediately start to pour snot and my glasses fogged up and my swollen fingers turned just as red as my face must have been. I tottered up to the desk to get my bracelet and they asked me how much I wanted to donate. The pounding blood in my eyes prevented me from hearing this little question, and I just grabbed the bracelet with my throbbing fingers and walked away. It's alright, I probably wouldn't have been able to open my wallet anyway.
So the point is, New York City can be a harsh and unforgiving mistress. I'm surprised you made it out of the fish market-- yipes!
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