Next Episode to Last Couple Weeks, New York, Going Away

8 Aug

I’m jumping the bullet points of my own shit, but I just want to get this one out of the way. I was in a BBQ joint in lower west midtown, actually it was in the Chelsea District.  For the westcoast people who have never left the couch, the Chelsea is the Castro District of NYC.  What is the Castro you ask?  Therefore, what is the Chelsea?  It is the gay area of New York, but homosexuality doesn’t dominate the area.

Around the corner from this BBQ joint (which apparently is owned by Justin Timberlake-as I was told by the following characters) is the place where I witnessed a bar owner strip a handicapped man of his cane and proceed to wallop the disabled man with his own cane.  Another nighter, another story.

So, I’m hanging at Southern Hospitality BBQ (Timberlake) and the bartender is the most chatty-cathy I’ve ever come across.  Horrible service.  On a 1-10, I score it a minus three. As a result because I’m a talkative-tom, I made friends quickly.  I didn’t want food, I wanted drink.  But, drink was getting spendy and these new friends seemed to like my conversation skills.

Buy you a drink.

Buy me a drink.

Buy you a corn cob.  No.  Rum.

“We’re up from Miami.”

HAHAHAHA.  No shit.  Hispanics from Miami.

I liked them.  They bought some merchandise.  Posters.  Not drugs.   ……Later.

They tell me they are staying in the Trump Hotel overlooking Central Park and they want to smoke a joint.  Well, guess who’s from Oregon and comes prepared.

I give the door guy a dollar.  He mashes it and throws it on the sidewalk.  We all laugh.  Elevator.  I’m sober compared to these guys.  I get to the room, which is ridiculous for dudes who manage call centers in Miami.  The little guy tries to roll a joint with my weed I’ve cut up.  Sucked at it.  Asked if he ever heard of the dollar trick.  He replies, No.  I answer like a smart ass, “Oh sorry, the peso trick.”

It’s going well.

The other guy as I’m rolling the joint is trying to convince me that a blowjob from a guy is the same thing as one from a chick.  Nope.

“If a dude blows another dude its not gay for the dude getting blown.”

You’re now too gay to say dude that many times in one sentence.

But, I’m nice.  I say, no thank you.  That’s very kind to offer but I decline.

He thinks persistence pays off, like any other fuck head male.

I say no.

He says, yes and his knees hit the floor.

I yell fuck no.


I look at his friend, and he raises his hands like he had never seen an animal at the zoo.  I say fuck this I’m leaving.  Protagonist, says well fine I;m going bed and pouts.

Fuck you and your pout you fucking half not understanding drunken “bi-sexual.”

Me and straight guy decide to go downstairs and smoke the joint.  Meanwhile, as we are discussing where to smoke said joint, Mr. Butthurt or would just like to be Mr. Butthurt, called Hotel Security.

I’m then bounced the fuck out of Trump Hotel.

Cops are coming.

I here a very effiminate, “Haha, breeder.”  As I’m escorted to the elevators.  Staight dude is still with me.  Giving me pep-talks.  Only wants the weed.  Obviously, we are all whores at some point.

I hit the lobby.  Ding, ding.

Sir, you must leave.

No shit.

As I go down the front steps of the hotel, I realise: “I’ve been hanging out with Mexican Immigrants (FROM MIAMI) in the TRUMP HOTEL.”

I start yelling bafoonery.  The wadded up $1 was still at the base of the steps.  I turn and throw it at the doorman.  I laugh.  Straight guy laughs.

Now, the cops are coming.  On fucking horseback.  I haven’t seen cops on horses since they didn’t do shit in Portland, OR.  Butterstuff echoes in my head.

Smoke joint while running with brown man.  Straight but brown and I’m wanted by Trump’s law.

Straight guy and I finish the joint, and now he has no need for me.

“He’s on his own up there.  I gotta go back.”

I now question the straightness of this straight guy.

Ka clunk, ka clunk, ka clunk, you know how horseshoes on pavement sound.

I run and run and run.

Where did I run to?  Fucking right back to that god damn Timberlake bbq place where the Puerto Rican host (girl) likes me.

“Table for 3?  Hahaha.”

Fuck this.


To be continued…..

*LSD and the Subway

*Bar owner beating a handicapped pedestrian with his own cane

*Going away show and late night video

One Reply to “Next Episode to Last Couple Weeks, New York, Going Away”

  1. Listen, next time you decide to leave the reservation and hang out with the savages let me know and I will bring my trusted iPhone 128 memory and we can record the whole thing. 25 hours worth. Story is hilarious. Did u see if the horses shit while they were chasing you? If so, call PETA, they will make up something in regards to abusing the horses. Go Indians

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *