Fast and Furious

A belated life-lesson: Open bar != quality beverages. There's the rub. Sure, you *think* you can drink $10 (or whatever the price of admission is) worth of well drinks, but as it turns out, there is no such thing as getting your money's worth of generic vodka. Is this what economists mean by diminishing returns?

N and I arrived at Rothko* (we were there to see Shy Child, and not to change the subject, but they rocked out with their cocks out**) in time to "enjoy" 1.5 hours' worth of open bar (Reeves, on the other hand, was looking so young and freshfaced that they wouldn't let him in without his ID and had to go back home to get it). After a disappointing round of well bourbon and soda, we concluded that it was essential to disguise the taste of the liquor. Gin and tonic for him, cranberry and vodka (ick) for me. Still terrible, though strong. Noting the time frame--45 minutes had sped by--we realized that we weren't pacing ourselves properly and began ordering back drinks hand over fist. Reeves arrived and, in order to catch up, hovered at the end of the bar simultaneously waving a single above his head and chugging a canning jar of vodka, Adam's apple bobbing frantically.

Thirty minutes left: I didn't know it was possible to sweat while drinking, but the exertion was getting to me. The sword of Damocles was dangling above our little green wristbands.

Fifteen minutes left: "Yes, may I have a vodka-tequila-gin-and-tonic please? In a pint glass? No ice please."

With five minutes left, I threw (up) in the towel and got a diet Coke. I realize now that I should have done so earlier in the evening, as this morning I am wracked with a relentless headache and baby snakes shits. Never again. Except maybe tomorrow.

Because tomorrow there are two shows you ought to go see. Actually, you can't literally see them both, given that they will take place at the same time in two different boroughs, so you'll have to make a decision. The incomparable Crimson Sweet are playing at Lit, which is where I'll be. N will be attending the DC Snipers show at Trash. (NB: Unlike Shy Child, the DC Snipers might possibly rock out with their cocks out: there was an [airquotes]alleged[/airquotes] incident involving group public urination at their last show.) Anyhow, you make the call.

*Rather underwhelming, to say the least. Felt like Williamsburg with its interior design half-assedry. Mean girls. Average-looking men. Everyone is brunette, which I think means that the Zionist Cabal now officially controls Hollywood, the media, the banks, and Having a Good Time in NYC.
**Not literally, which is unfortunate.