|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 10:36 pm: |
I'll be knockin' at your back door shortly.
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 10:26 pm: |
I'M HERE AND I'M WAITING FOR YOU... ALL OF YOU!
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 10:00 pm: |
Any kitchen sink makes a workable fountain. I'll demonstrate later today.
Your request is respectfully noted. Not a problem.
T-19HOURS AND COUNTING.
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 9:32 pm: |
My two girlfriends, both named Emile , will be in attendance, but they kindly request that once they're half empty they get to go to bed, because they want to live to see another day.
Better call 911 now and reserve the ambulance ahead of time.
Anybody bringing a fountain?
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 8:32 pm: |
In about a half an hour, it's tomorrow. And tomorrow means it's finally the day for the party to go off. I'll probably thrash in my sleep all night waiting hit the shindig. Sleep tight everyone, and plan on passing out sometime early Sunday morning. Except you Torty, you have to behave.
I'll see you all tomorrow in Hell's Kitchen. An appropriate place for us if ever there was one.
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 8:26 pm: |
Just bring whatever ya want. After a certain point, people just grabbing whatever cheap stuff is handy, out of politeness to those who bring the rare/high $$ shit. Feel free to clean out you collection of the dross.
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 1:54 pm: |
and I always have that Doug and the Slugs 'best of' CD :-)
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 1:53 pm: |
So what are folks bring... commercial absinthe-wise? I don't have none of that swanky stuff, but I do have a goodly number of commercial style bottle laying around to choose from, but of course would prefer not to bring the same as someone else.
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 11:02 am: |
I can't believe tomorrow I`ll be in New York getting drunk with a bunch of crazy strangers after a 6-7 hours drive ...
Mom!!!! I`ll get Louched and Pickled in no time !
Meteo is nice but damn hot ! I won`t survive in my usual velvet...maybe I should get some fishnet top before I leave... Or just drop all this fancy shit and get a strapped barrel.
No more time to burn a special soundtrack but I`ll try to bring some CDs.
Now I made my decision : ''Semis de trêfles et d'étoiles #4'' will be my official NYGT spoon !
Moonman tells me he's nervous. He think his NewYorksinthe lack a bit of focus due to lack of aging after the assemblage he made this week from selected batches (some aged, some almost not)but at least it's a very easy to swallow absinthe and it puts your brain on springs in no time. (I've made extensive quality testing last night...;-) ).
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 7:40 am: |
It was a dark and musty night. Some festive folks had gathered for an event that would be labeled the occasion of the millennium. As the limos pulled up and the gorgeous people stepped onto the red carpet, all that could be heard was the pop of flash bulbs. Frock coats, top hats, gorilla suits, and mashed potato outfits were the flavor of the evening. Inside was like a grand taco, with fixings for everyone. They danced in a mastiff ballroom with shiny, bone chandeliers, and mechanical bull barstools. They all had a glass of, what was described by some bystanders, some kind of green happy happy juice. Bottles littered the establishment that said Suisse and Francie and even Deva. All seemed well in Kingdom Conundrum . Then, without notice, a gang of Czech munchkins crashed through the skylights. They were an evil bunch, with dead, black doll like eyes. They locked arms and swept through the crowd, repeated the earie phrase, "Hey bud, want to party? Hey bud, want to party?" over and over again, in a lifeless, zombie like tone. Before anyone could bat an eye, sirens were heard and red and blue flashing lights were seen through the windows. The Swill Apocalypse had begun. As SWAT pulled up and everyone took their stance behind squad cars, poised and ready, someone was heard to say, "What are we waiting for, lets go in?" The Chief simply responded, no, we're sending in the "Specialist". An immediate hush was heard throughout the crowd.
Across town, the Mayor was woken up to the ring of the Red Phone. After listening for a little while, the Mayor spoke. "Get me the Pikkle"
A truck pulled up to the doomed building and unloaded a huge object, there was a huge electrified crack and then loud buzz of a holligen spotlight, pointing to the sillahuet of a winged pickle in the sky. A minute later, flying in on an armored ostridge, a dark figure appeared, wearing a green lumpy suit, with the symbol of a penis with a circle and a cross through it. He had arrived and the Czech evil doers were in for the battle of lifetime.
To be continued...
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 6:16 am: |
just look for the sign of the pikkle...
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 5:25 am: |
I'll be the one sporting mash potatoes and nothing else. Are we hot yet?
|Posted on Friday, June 28, 2002 - 3:40 am: |
I, of course, am the beautiful woman.