Thursday, May 21, 2009

D. Kareem, you have to enter the hot body contest!

After I had recovered from Baña, I headed down to Pieces for Bitter Commie Grad Student’s farewell celebration (he’s going back to Toronto). I had had a somewhat busy day, so I took a very late disco nap and didn’t end up arriving til after midnight. I walked in to find the bar filled to the brim with the Ivy League Crew et. al. et. al. et. al. 
 

Me *to the tune of Danity Kane’s “Damaged”*: “Do do you got a latex glove handy!”
CoLaw: “Wait, so what’s the deal with you and Bottomless Pitt singing about latex gloves?”
Me: “All this time you never knew?! Latex gloves are our reference to fisting. Do you know what fisting is?
CoLaw: “ Oh, god! Of course I know what fisting is! Gross! …so, like, how does an asshole get that big?”
Me (the fisting expert, obvi): “Well, it stretches. You just gotta work it slowly.”
CoLaw: “But wouldn’t you poop a lot?”
Me: “Yeah, that I’m not totally sure on, but I’m gonna guess that elasticity comes into play.” Then my evil twin took over: “But if you stretch it out enough, you can just start punching it.”
CoLaw, covering her eyes: “Oh my god! Stop!”
Me, continuing to punch: “What? That’s a reality of fisting. Think of that next time you ask for a hole puncher.”
CoLaw ran away, covering her ears.  CoLaw’s Aussie boyfriend patted me on the shoulder: “That was great! Can I buy you a drink, mate?”
"Screwdriver, splash of pineapple. Wow, I didn't even get to tell her about the time Bottomless Pitt came to the bar from lab and had a pair of latex gloves sticking out of the back of his pocket. Who needs a hankey code!"

[Mini sober moment, last night, Bottomless Pitt was waring a red handkerchief in his right back pocket. I took a picture and googled the hanky code on the spot. Too bad iFlash doesn't exist.]

A recent Saturday was go-go karaoke. This Saturday, the same go-go was hosting in drag (I swear they have that poor boy in shackles in the basement during the week).

“Get ready for our hot body contest. The winner gets a free drink!”
“Oh my god, D. Kareem, you have to enter the hot body contest!”
“Are you joking? I got my weekly dose of validation already, and I can buy a $4 drink with my shirt on, thanks!”

I watched Bottomless Pitt get up. Then Morehead. Then some Asian dude we didn’t know. Then Double Dutch. . o O (Only at Pieces would most of the hot body contest be people I know.)

Out of nowhere, 2 friends grab my arms and pull me towards the stage. Had I been wearing my Timbs, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. Unfortunately, my cowboy boots only have tread on the heel, so I slid all the way to the stage.

Bottomless Pitt out of the side of his mouth: “Which ever one of us wins— fuck that! When you win, we’re sharing the drink.”
Go-Go Gadget Drag: “Okay, so we have Whitey #1, Whitey #2 [both of whom are Jewish], Rice, Chocolate #1 and Chocolate #2. We’re gonna have each of these boys take their shirts off, one-by-one, and we’ll give the winner two free drinks. DJ, some music please!” (sic)

The crowd cheered as each guy took his shirt off. Then the audience was asked to show their love for each contestant Apollo style. When it was my turn, the drag queen made some S&M-related comment and reached for a nipple. I instinctively recoiled, making my bitch-betta-not face, and the audience let out a collective warning: “Oooo!” My friends know how protective I am about my (pierced) nipples.

Those jeans low enough for you, Franck?

In the end, it was down to me and Morehead. White(-ish) versus black. Short versus tall. Big university versus small school. Hamilton Heights (Harlem) versus WaHi (Washington Heights).

“So, to settle this tie, we’re gonna have each of the contestants take of his pants!” . o O (Crap! AM I wearing cute underwear?!) “Only cheer for the boy you want to win,” which was hardly fair because we both knew a about 70% of the crowd. And he’d hooked up with a lot more than I had!

I ended up winning in the end. Which was weird. I’m not gonna talk about that anymore.

For those of you who just had to see.

Late-night diner food? Sure, why not! We went around the corner to that Seinfeld-looking diner and clamored our way into a booth. There were perhaps 5 of us. Maybe 6? Anyway, when it came time to pay, Bitter Commie Grad Student pulled out a card. For future reference the Village is not a reliable neighborhood for credit card use.

“Okay, just go to the ATM. There’s one in the lobby. Tada!”
“I dddnnn have annny mmmnnnnnny..”
“I’m sorry?”
“I dddnnn have annny mmmnnnnnny..”
“Commie, you live below 59th st and you don’t have $10 to pay for your meal?”
“NNNNuh uh.”
“Doesn’t that card have cash advance?”
“Sorrrrrrry.”
“Fine. I’ll pay for you.”
Did I mention Bitter Commie’s moving to Toronto (that took some deep breathing and very positive thoughts, but a friend in need....). 


Yeah.

Today's a great day for the Pier (stupid job!). To check out a Pier story, click here.

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7 comments:

franck said...

They're better, but I'm sure you could go lower.
I can see why you won ('cause you're hot), but I would have voted for Morehead. Can I have his number?

The Blackout Blog said...

Franck, if you came to NYC, you could get a lot more than her number.

(Love you, Morehead.)

Alex C. said...

Girl congrats on your win!!! Your parents must be so proud.

~A

Kunka Kente said...

Phew for your cute underwear.

*shuts down computer & runs to shopping center to buy 20 pairs of briefs*

(cuz a bitch never knows!)

The Blackout Blog said...

Thanks, Alex.

Kunta, I notice how you shut down your computer. Look atchu, all green (or trying to save on the electricity bill... I know you and your kind).

Tightey Whitey said...

Okay, so I know that Morehead is obvi Jew Number 1. (We did go on Queer Birthright together, after all.) But who was Jew Number 2?

The Blackout Blog said...

Double Dutch.