Definitely different white people (Halloween Weekend '11, Part II)

Click here for part I. 

On Sunday, Bohoken had lunch with his mother in Queens, so I met up with some of the boys at Planet Rose karaoke. In full costume, of course. There may or may not have been a heavy-metal rendition of Lady Gaga's "Telephone" with 3 of us doing full-out choreo.

We headed to Griffin just as it was scheduled to open, which might not be what the cool kids do, but we knew there would been a line this week. Even if I'd be able to skip the line, getting 5 or 6 friends in would be a challenge. 

image from Griffin Sundays' facebook profile

 

The line itself looked like backstage at Cirque du Soile, and people still had their coats on. The inside was a melee of skin, wigs and hot glue. DJ Vito Fun had his Vito Buns exposed as part of his naked chef outfit. And I think at one point I had a flirty exchange with Miss Shawn Paul Mazur, but I didn't recognize her because of the stunning drag she sported. And I don't know what the Italian guy with his pants pulled down just below his bubble ass was supposed to be, but I may or may not have lip-synched Britney's "Hold It Against Me" directly to it him. Which may or may not have ended up more awkward than intended because of my mask.

We stood in line again at Cielo. At the door, they were doing full pat-down searches, which was hilarious because the security guy was very hot and very straight. I'd already stripped down to my costume, and I was genuinely concerned by how un-thoroughly I was searched.

Cielo was unremarkable fun. After a few drinks there (open bar!), I stopped by G. And when very hot young guy insisted on putting his hand down my shorts (guess who wasn't wearing underwear), I insisted that he smell his hand. 

He liked it.

Work on Monday was a blast! No, really. I even dressed up (a censored version, of course)!

RSTLNE reluctantly invited people to his straight roommate's Halloween party, so I brought Bohoken along. We had the most impossible task of finding something to bring because my late ass got us into Manhattan after 11. All the liquor stores were closed.

Me: "What kind of beer do white people drink? Magic Hat?"

Bohoken: "Uh, maybe Stella?"

Me: "I think we may be talking about different white people."

Bohoken: "Let's get the Stella and a Sapporo."

Me: "Definitely different white people."

RSTLNE was clearly over her sobriety reluctance to throw said party because she started yelling and unbuttoning my jacket as soon as I walked in.

"I've heard about your costume all weekend! Let's see what you got, daddy! Show me that leather."

no... plastic... bottles... EVAH!!!!

There was a handle of Popov that was empty (I feel like I'm too old to be at the same party as a plastic bottle), but I managed to find some apple Smirnoff and ginger ale to mix together.

Five minutes later, Bohoken pointed out Bottomless Pitt. She'd dressed as Storm from X Men, but she'd already stripped off the top of her body suit. With the blonde wig (and very little makeup), she mostly looked like Rick James.

what DID the 5 fingers say to the face...

In her hand: the sole bottle of Sapporo we'd seen opened all night.

Around midnight, we vacated for Pieces, but after a drink there, Bohoken went home. Pitt and I ditched and took a gamble on paying to get into the Monster, which ended up being packed with guys in hot costumes.

Four drinks later, Pitt and I were stumbling to 6th Ave.

Her: "No, D. Kareem! I'm telling you, that diner's closed!"

Me: "And I'm telling you I'm not going you're thinking of Waverly Diner."

Her: "That's the only diner over there!"

Me: "This one isn't on 6th Ave. It's a lot or two from the corner. Right up from the McDonald's."

Her: "It's closed!"

Me: "Heifer, you've been there with me. Let's just go, and if I'm wrong, I'll pay for a cab to the next nearest one."

 

Did I mention the two things that felt most amazing that night: 1) being right and 2) knowing that an 8-minute PATH ride was the only thing between me and sleep? Yeah.

Click here to check out Halloween '09 (my friends and I as the Real Housewives of Atlanta).

 

my costume: The Grim Raper (Halloween Weekend 2011 Part I)

Halloweekend forecast for NYC: fucking snow.

So, Bohoken and I had done some leather shopping in mid September, and I figured since that I had some new gear (and no ideas for a costume beyond working out like crazy a month before) Halloween would be the perfect time to show it off. So, to my harness, the leather-daddy boots and tights, I added neoprene shorts (I would have had to buy a 36 waist for leather shorts because I don't have sticks for legs or a flat ass), a cut up robe with a hood and a mask to make my costume: The Grim Raper.

the Grim Reaper comes for your soul; the Grim Raper comes for your hole. 

Gene-Eric texted me that he was having people over for a makeup/preparation pre-game at his place in Washington Heights, so I dragged Bohoken back into Manhattan. I ended up running for the A train, which was at the station when we arrived, and prepping to hold the doors because Bohoken was delayed getting through the turnstile with my scythe.

After about 7 minutes of sitting in the station, the conductor announced: "It looks like they're having signal problems at 59th St. All uptown trains are affected, and it seems they're turning trains back downtown at 34th St..."

It was a no-brainer to take a cab at that point, but keep in mind that it was still a snow storm. And a weekend evening. With fucked up trains. But somehow, the black guy managed to flag down a cab within 5 minutes.

Gene-Eric answered her door shirtless in 4" heels and black lamé striped tights. In her hand was a headband to which she was affixing horns made out of college-rule notebook paper.

I loved this pre-game already.

Españard was in the living room changing into a pair of red trunks and a cape (with dramatic, real facial hair) for a Dracula look. His boyfriend and his friend, both dancers, wore similar red trunks with fishnet tops, body paint, and glitter. To tell you the truth, I had no idea what they were supposed to be, but they made a hot pair!

What was clear was that we were to have drinks as everyone constructed their looks. What wasn't clear was where we were going after. Gene-Eric had plans in Chelsea with some Fire Island douchebags douchebags, and she probably wouldn't be able to show up with 8 +1s. Yet she was trying to convince us to come anyway? I suggested No Parking, which was a 5 min walk away. At that point, it would be rather empty, but at least we'd be welcome. It took some coaxing, but I eventually steered the rest of the boys there.

No Parking's the kind of bar that doesn't get going til after midnight. It was 10:45.

As we were making the best of things (Bohoken’s buying us all a couple of rounds of drinks helped), I noticed a muscular, short guy checking me out. Eventually, he, his partner and I started talking, and they insisted on buying me a drink.

An hour later, the bar was starting to pick up, and Bohoken was passing me yet another a drink. Two minutes after, the short, muscular guy informed me that his partner had ordered me another. Line 'em up boys!

Two guys in harnesses walk into a bar. One says, "You look familiar... Oh! I recognize you from Grindr!"

Did I mention it was only Saturday? Yeah.

Click here to check out last Thanksgiving with the Fam last year (including a vid of my playing Just Dance 2 for Wii).

Top 5 Grindr DON'Ts (a guest post on Justin +1)

Click here to check out the guest post I did on Justin +1: my top 5 Grindr DON'Ts.

If you like Fun with Grindr. You'll love the screenshots I used for this post!

I don't remember any of this. (Beer pong at Boxers NYC)

After we drove back from Fairgrounds (aka "Gay Day") at 6 Flags, I left Bohoken at his place to meet friends for drinks at Posh around 2am, leaving only when the lights came on. As I hopped in a cab, I saw Bottomless Pitt making out with the guy he'd tried to set up with me AND a friend. His Facebook status the next day:

That Saturday, Bohoken and I went to brunch at a cafe in Chelsea, having a couple of drinks before stopping into Gym Sports Bar. I steered us towards Boxers where an older black patron, with whom Bohoken had become quite familiar from several happy hours, gave us quite the ab workout from laughing at stories about him and his partner... and his fur coats. Turns out he's a preacher.

As we were talking, a short, young, Jersey-ish barback approached us.

Jersey: "Hey, any of you wanna play beer pong? $15 for 2 hours unlimited. I need a teammate."

Me: "Nah, I'm not a beer drinker."

Jersey: "We can do Cosmo pong! That's $20!"

Me: "I'll play with you. But our team has to be shirtless."

Him: "Uh... Fuck it. I'll play shirtless with you."

Let me tell you: Jersey had no reasonable justification for keeping his clothes on. At all.

So we played against 2 bartenders who were drinking beer. Bohoken pointed out that they were at a strategic advantage because I was drinking liquor. I pointed out that my liquor was mixed, and it added up to 2-3 drinks. I was so persuasive that I'd even convinced myself of this.

image from bigappledodgeball.com

So we set up the 10 cups on each side (some call this Beirut), but the cups were filled a bit more than I anticipated (definitely more than a swallow of cosmo). And the mix was quite syrupy. Luckily, the bartenders were still working, so there were a few minutes between each toss.

Turns out the bartenders are really good at pong. And it turns out my partner really wasn't. The other team basically killed us.

Did I mention my partner had a 1-on-1 game going with beer at the next table? Yeah.

According to Bohoken, I started to get kind of touchy-feely with Jersey as the game went on. Apparently, someone was tweaking someone else's nipples at one point. I don't remember any of this.

Jersey: "Guys, wait! I have to tell you something."

Me: "Okay."

Jersey (pulling out his phone): "I'm straight! This is my girlfriend. We've been together for two years!"

Me: "Is that all?"

Jersey: "I mean, I don't mind gay guys at all. They feel me up and stuff, but it's all good."

Me: "Bohoken! Get him a drink! Now!"

By the time Bohoken dragged me out (allegedly… literally... I still remember none of this), I declared I needed to go home for a disco nap, but I made Bohoken promise to come back out with me. Of course, we were walking wobbling by the PATH train when my body decided it had to pee imminently. Bohoken steered me up 6th ave (past the flower stand: "We should get some flowers for your apartment! Do you like flowers? I LOVE lilies...") to XES, which he knew would be deserted at that time.

I do remember being at XES, but I def don't remember staying for an hour and a half and being force-fed water. I also remember doing something that I haven't done since New Year's Eve going into 2006*: vomiting. I told y'all those cosmos were too syrupy! 

I also remember getting back to his place and deciding we needed to make a joint Adam4Adam profile. Did I mention this decision definitely and surely did not motivate a photo shoot? Yeah.

*This happened at XL (now closed) when it was next door to the Maritime Hotel in Chelsea. Frenchie Davis of American Idol and The Voice fame performed. 

Click here to check out Fun with Adam4Adam. Shout out to Crisco_Butt. 

who walked in with the Patrón (a cousin's surprise 50th)

My mother's deceased father has 4 generations of nieces in one branch. The oldest (the Diva, in her 70s, but could easily pass for 50s), her Daughter (50), TeeTee (early 20s) and TeeTee's daughter (maybe 10). Diva told me a few weeks in advance that she wanted me to come to a surprise 50th birthday party they were throwing for the Daughter in Queens by where Nana lives, but that was all the info I got.

image from thegoldensmith.blogspot.com

When a reminder came up in my phone, I still had no info on said celebration, which I assumed would be a cookout at their house. I called Nana to see if she had the low-down, but she didn't know and didn't want to call their house and raise suspicion.

"Call me back around 6, and I should be able to tell you."

But what if it's during the day...

Luckily, Mom had the Diva's sister's number. Turns out they were having it at the Daughter's sister's daycare, and they wanted people there at 9:30 so they could surprise her at 10. This worked perfectly because I had a couple of birthday parties in the City that night, too. I could stay for a few hours, have some drinks and a kee-kee with the fam and still have time to head out.

About 15 minutes after I got the intel, Nana called me to tell me that we were supposed to be there at 8:30. And then she dropped the bomb: "Can you drive me and your aunt? We'll need to find parking and all."

I calmly responded, hung up and screamed into a pillow. What's the point of paying NYC rent prices when you have to stay sober enough to drive on a Saturday night like everyone else in the country! Plus, I love a good drink with the Fam. 

It's a hassle to get to Nana's house in Queens, but she always offers to pick me up at Jamaica Station, which is quite convenient from the LIRR. My train came in around 8:30, and it was a short drive to the day care center. I jumped in the driver's seat and found a parking spot maybe 50 feet away from the door. My aunt, who uses a walker, took no less than 10 minutes to get out of the car and in the front door. Did I mention I had to pee? Did I mention the Barbie-sized toilets in the daycare bathroom?

image from thegoldensmith.blogspot.com

AND did I mention that we arrived to the daycare owner, her friend and the DJ still setting up? Either they were running really far behind, or Nana had gotten us there a good hour early (I'll give you 3 guesses on that one). 

About 15 minutes later, my cousins Duchess and Duke (a couple in their 40s named because their daughter is the Queen) walked in with their hilarious friend whom I haven't seen since I was old enough to fully appreciate her humor.

Duchess (in the thickest Harlem accent ever): "Nana, do you know where we just came from... because someone told us to come over before."

Nana: "I told you to come early!"

Duchess: "We're over there ringing the bell, looking in the windows. I almost knocked on Mrs. McManning's door. Duke was like, 'Call D. Kareem's mom,' but I didn't want to get her all anxious. We figured y'all must have left if the car was gone."

Me: "Nana was making doubly sure she made it to the party, okay!"

Duchess' friend: "Do they have a bartender?! I'ma go see if they need one."

Duchess: "Here we go."

Duke: "Hey, D. Kareem, check out these pictures!"

Duke's new thing is photography. He's actually really good at it, but any time you see him, you'll spend at least 20 minutes flipping through photos, usually at a relative's wedding. And I've never known someone to have so many relatives get married! But this particular wedding was pretty spectacular.

The bride rolled up to the ceremony in a vintage Rolls Royce. She got out of the Rolls, flanked by costumed Renaissance trumpeters on either side of her, and accompanied by a man in a cream tux with tails, white gloves, a white hat, and a clear pimp cane.

Me: "Ah, she went older, I see."

Duke: "That's the father."

Me: "STOP."

The groom and all his groomsmen had white tuxes, white gloves, white pimp hats, and clear canes. Oh, and the ring bearer, too. Which made the father's cream tux that much more perplexing. I really just couldn't deal.

Duchess' friend: "Well, you remember in Duchess' wedding—"

Me (giving Duchess the evil eye): "I don't. I couldn't attend."

Duchess: "Oh, yeah. I forgot you couldn't come because we said no kids."

Me: "Who does that! I've never heard of that before or since."

Dutchess' friend (pointing towards the door): "Oo! Who is that, and what's in the bag?!"

Me: "I'd recognize that box anywhere. Patrón."

After my cousins (in their 60s), who walked in with the Patrón, greeted everyone, they added their bottle to the bar. Our table, which just happened to be closest to the bar, came to the conclusion that said bottle had been opened already.

They turned off the lights when the Daughter was about to arrive. They had told her they were going out, but they had to pick up their friend who was working late at the daycare. She walked in with her little black dress and makeup and fake ponytail ready to curse her friend out for holding them up.

best party favors ever.

Surprised wasn't even the word. I mean, she was screaming and crying and laughing all at the same time. It took her a good half hour to go around and greet everyone. But once she got a few drinks in her system, she led all her friends to the dance floor to prove that at 50 she did still, in fact, have it.

Then she started singing on the microphone over Tina Marie.

Me: “I’m going to tell the DJ to unplug her mic. Create a distraction.”

By my third drink, I really didn’t much mind that I wasn’t making it back to the City before 2am. But did I mention that my cousin offered to follow me back to Nana’s and drop me off in Manhattan? Yeah! 

Click here to check out a night out with my mom and what happened when I found out the guy I was propositioning was HIV positive. 

"Spit", "Swallow" and "Cum in" (the 2011 AVP Courage Awards, Daniel Nardicio's after party and Joey Israel's Mars Needs More Whores)

A few weeks ago, I got the chance to check out a few fabulous events from a couple of my favorite promoters. Daniel Nardicio had invited me to attend the after party for the Courage Awards (from the Anti-Violence Project or APV), and Joey Israel invited me to the opening of his new party Mars Needs Whores, which just happened to be his birthday celebration.

Bohoken, who doesn't want me to tell you where he lives, was invited to the actual Courage Awards in Studio 450, a fabulous rooftop space in TaPS (the Trash around Penn Station). He's my current boy situation, btw. 

image from kurtyphotography.com

The awards ceremony was awesome. They honored people who had really made strides to prevent violence against gays, including bullying, bashing and domestic violence. CNN anchor Don Lemon gave a rather hilarious speech.

The afterparty was in the glass-enclosed rooftop space. Johnny Dynell served as DJ, and Kat de Luna was slated to perform. Unfortunately, she fell ill, so Daniel had the fabulous Cherie Lily fill in for her. Of course, the whole event was open bar, and of course, we indulged.

Once we left Studio 450, we meandered over to Vlada for Mars Needs More Whores. It was on the second floor, but I suggested that Bohoken and I grab drinks on the first floor to avoid the throngs of Martian whores. Go-go hottie Johnny Sandford (of Ohio-booty-tat fame) was collecting the cover at the stairs, and we exchanged fake kisses and real butt-squeezes on the way up.

The party was rather perfectly populated. Not step-on-your-shoes crowded, but still interesting. On the walls were black, shiny torso mannequins adorned with neon lights in shapes that were beyond suggestive. On the stage: a slim masseur in a jock going to work on an attendee (free massages, honey!). And just in case you couldn't find the back room, there were neon signs on the curtain pointing the way.

Oh, and did I mention the go-goes? I don’t think I’d ever run into the deliciously built and scuffy Jay Roth before, but even if he weren't dancing, he would have more than earned my tip. Jay and his go-go partner Rowen Pierce wore only boots and white robes. And maybe socks.

The music was fun, thanks to DJ David Serrano, and YouTube/nightlife personality Cazwell was present and shirtless (he's still got the “Ice Cream Truck” body, too). While Bohoken and I left somewhat early, we did get a chance to wish our oh-so-sexy hostess, Joey Israel, a happy birthday.

Did I mention that there’s now a show at this party… like the type of thing you’d hear about/see in the East Village… like the type of show that might kinda amaze you/gross you out/turn you on at the same time? Yeah! 

Click here to check out a messy, messy Sunday back in '09. 

Guest Post on Justin +1

Check out the guest post I did on Justin +1 on No Parking! Click here.