NAUGHTY NAUTICAL NITE & THE KARAOKE BAR AFTER-PARTY ADVENTURE
I AM THE COURTNEY LOVE OF COMEDY
If you didn't come to NNN #3, I'm sorry for you. It was a wild blast as usual, with lots of lovelies and lots of flesh, fun wierdness and great costumes. I didn't get plastered, I actually stayed mostly sober -- until after the show.
The last thing I remember clearly is a sausage party at my apartment. Darcy, myself, and about seven very handsome hot men were drinking a bottle of champagne, and then we all left to meet up with some of my boyfriend's friends at a karaoke bar in the East Village.
It must have been quite a scene. I had on a shirt and no pants (I was later told), a red feather boa and a pair of silver high heels. Darcy was dressed like a mermaid and carrying her 86 year old doll, Isabel, and we were surrounded by a crowd of really sexy men -- one was my 6'3" boyfriend, one was a hot asian male model, one was dressed like a pirate, one was dressed like a sailor, one was in a suit. I think there were two or three others, as well. The audience cheered us when we walked in the door because we looked so nutso. College frat girls took photos of us with their overpriced digital cameras.
After that it gets a little fuzzy. I remember meeting up with my boyfriend's three young girlfriends who for some reason were hanging out with a humongous "lug" (as one of my boyfriend's other friends referred to him as). As soon as we got there, they decided to leave. I wonder why? (They had to "feed the lug", as one of my friend's so eloquently put it).
My boyfriend whispered into my ear, "Let's get kicked out of this shit hole."
Rule #1: When I'm drunk, don't instigate me.
I will tell you the secret to getting kicked out of any NYC bar in an instant without breaking any laws or hurting any body: stand on a bar stool. For some reason it freaks every body out really badly. The management will toss your ass out onto the street in a sweet half a heart beat.
I vagueley remember standing on a bar stool in my shirt and no pants, and possibly on the actual bar, to sing the national karaoke anthem, you know the one by Journey -- "Just a small town girl!" Not a huge deal, I was just standing out of respect for the national karaoke anthem. The music was shut off instantly. The entire audience sadly groaned together and I felt kind of stupid, even through the thick layer of drunken antic energy I was sporting. My boyfriend started screaming the words acapella and everyone sung along, so they turned the music back on. He saved the day! For a minute, anyway.
Cut in my foggy memory to seven micro-nesians (as my friend referred to the asians of uncertain descent) carrying me out of the bar while I screamed full blast, kicking and yelling, "I want to sing!"
As they got me to the patio and gracefully set me down, I cussed them out, swearing, "I didn't want to hang out in your shitty karaoke bar, anyway!" As I got to the "any" in "anyway", I fell face first down a flight of cement stairs as all of my and my boyfriend's friends watched in horror. Somehow, a lone shred of dignity was left intact, a sliver in my self-preservation was still alive, though my brain was possibly in black-out mode. As I felt myself falling, my hand reached out and grabbed the banister (thank god there was one or I'd be road relish) on it's own accord and saved me from certain nose and face breakage. I scratched my knee, twisted my ankle up a bit, and got a boo boo on my finger.
The finger boo boo was small but viscious, and I was profusely bleeding from it. The Spanish and micro-nesian bouncers refused to let my boyfriend in to get me napkins, so he insulted them with some probably untrue slight regarding how much more money he makes than them. The last thing I remember at the karaoke bar was my boyfriend screaming, "Three times your salary!" at them all, while four micro-nesians held back the Spanish guy from punching his beautiful face in.
All of our friends took off in separate directions.
We laughed like Mickey and Mallory all the way to the pizza joint, and all day long the next day, as my brain hiccup repeated "feed the lug" and "micronesian" non-stop.
My boyfriend's friends are still pissed at me.
It was truly a night to remember, which I mostly don't.
Next Naughty Nautical Nite June 19th!!