You know it’s the day after your birthday when you wake up and reach for the glass of water upon your bedside table and swig its remains hastily to rid the fuzz from however-many-Gruners from your debauched tongue but instead find your mouth infused with a fiery liquid that clears your sinuses, singes your nosehairs, and might explain why you were a little bit drunk on the subway this morning.
The morning-after-birthday Scotch. Welcome to 34. ‘Sa gonna be a good year, ya wee bairns.
Hey ya’all! I feel kinda old school this Monday. Why, I have no idea—old eggs maybe?—but a fact’s a fact. And the soundtrack to my rather old-school day today seems to be, well, this:
Yes, complete with applause and a naked chap playing the drums and big ole awesome arm claps and cowboy hats and oiled-up pecs and bleach-blond highlights on men who look kinda like men and kinda like ladies. And, yes, even choral repetition. God, I love it.
Here’s an Unemployment Mix submission from one D.H., who recently moved up to the big city from down South and has endured his own bout with unemployment, most irritatingly being turned down for work due to “lack of NYC experience.” Which is not very constructive, potential employers!
At any rate, D.H. has since prevailed and joined the ranks of the employed, and now has taken some time out of his busy workaday schedule to put together a list of tunes for the rest of us.
Let’s say you get home a little buzzed. Hey, no judgments. We’ve all been there. You’re not super drunk, but having walked from the West side (cheaper and calorie-burning!), very efficiently using that time to call various men you may or may not be interested in, and, of course, to internally debate about whether stopping into certain bars would be a good thing or a bad thing, you’ve grown a bit … thirsty.
Nearly home, you wonder whether the wine store is still open. (All you have at the apartment is an elderly bottle of red that gave you a pretty bad hangover that night you were dishing to that Gawker dude, and it’s been a few days—God, maybe weeks!—since then.)
You check your BlackBerry since until you get your Patek Philipe you are watchless for the duration. Damn, it’s 11:15. Well, it’s either home or some nearby bar, and given that it’s a Thursday, and all of the raucous youngsters are out crowding your usual VIP spots, you choose home. You must have something you can throw together, right? (You wouldn’t be YUD if not.)
photo credit: ReeseCLloyd
Let’s say you get home a little buzzed. Hey, no judgments. We’ve all been there. You’re not super drunk, but having walked from the West side (cheaper and calorie-burning!), very efficiently using that time to call various men you may or may not be interested in, and, of course, to internally debate about whether stopping into certain bars would be a good thing or a bad thing, you’ve grown a bit … thirsty.