kl7: slippy: Bill and Kristina at bizarro Circus bar Before I leave to do errands for the day and completely forget to mention anything, I have to tell you guys last night was awesome! The circus was kind of a half-assed, phoned-in version of Cirque de Solei, but I still enjoyed the contortionist, gay acrobats and fire eaters. The atmosphere was cool with a separate tent for drinking. There was a jazzy-vaudeville band playing a variety of exaggerated versions of Jazz and soul standards. There were vintage pinball games set for free play which I became obsessed with for a solid 10 minutes, at one point closing my eyes and trying to will a ‘Tommy’ level of pinball prowess. No dice. Every once and a while I’d glance at the downtown skyline and snap into the realization that I’m really here. I’m not surrounded by walls of enclosed concrete that you don’t realize about New York City until you leave it. I let the guys talk me into going to a spot called Cheetah’s (which I’m sure locals will know which place I’m talking about) and watch them turn down pseudo-stripper after stripper and their lap dance offers. The highlight of the night was going to the hot dog cart outside and consuming the best hot dog I’ve had in 8 months. A regular hot dog, wrapped in bacon, topped with caramelized onions, a dash of green and red peppers, bits of carne asada on a toasted bun at 2 a.m. is tough to beat. It’s nights like this where whatever worries I have about my future slip away and where I feel lucky to have met good people who have become amazing friends. Thank you for an awesome make-up birthday! Yeah, so if you hangout with my friends and I we’ll eventually bring you to Cheetah’s. But Kristina, you make us sound like a bunch of (cheap) pussies for turning down lapdances. Everybody knows you don’t go to Cheetas for the lapdances, but to admire from afar the burlesque dancing techniques among the fine tattooed lasses. On another note, yeah, Cirque Berzerk was a total bust. Note to all you budding circus producers/filmmakers/people who do something creative in the visual arts: good music can bring your crappy production to the next level. It can hide mistakes, make your idiot actors appear awesome, turn a completely wretched dance routine into MJ’s Thriller with just the right tune to set just the right mood. The music at Cirque was horrendous, and I’m sure the Radio Shack-grade speakers weren’t helping anything. It almost wasn’t worth the 25 bones I paid for my ticket; if I was one of the people who paid 80 for the ground level I’d have reason to burn the tent down. No stars. High-res

kl7:

slippy:

Bill and Kristina at bizarro Circus bar

Before I leave to do errands for the day and completely forget to mention anything, I have to tell you guys last night was awesome!

The circus was kind of a half-assed, phoned-in version of Cirque de Solei, but I still enjoyed the contortionist, gay acrobats and fire eaters. The atmosphere was cool with a separate tent for drinking. There was a jazzy-vaudeville band playing a variety of exaggerated versions of Jazz and soul standards. There were vintage pinball games set for free play which I became obsessed with for a solid 10 minutes, at one point closing my eyes and trying to will a ‘Tommy’ level of pinball prowess. No dice.

Every once and a while I’d glance at the downtown skyline and snap into the realization that I’m really here. I’m not surrounded by walls of enclosed concrete that you don’t realize about New York City until you leave it.

I let the guys talk me into going to a spot called Cheetah’s (which I’m sure locals will know which place I’m talking about) and watch them turn down pseudo-stripper after stripper and their lap dance offers. The highlight of the night was going to the hot dog cart outside and consuming the best hot dog I’ve had in 8 months. A regular hot dog, wrapped in bacon, topped with caramelized onions, a dash of green and red peppers, bits of carne asada on a toasted bun at 2 a.m. is tough to beat.

It’s nights like this where whatever worries I have about my future slip away and where I feel lucky to have met good people who have become amazing friends.

Thank you for an awesome make-up birthday!

Yeah, so if you hangout with my friends and I we’ll eventually bring you to Cheetah’s. But Kristina, you make us sound like a bunch of (cheap) pussies for turning down lapdances. Everybody knows you don’t go to Cheetas for the lapdances, but to admire from afar the burlesque dancing techniques among the fine tattooed lasses.

On another note, yeah, Cirque Berzerk was a total bust. Note to all you budding circus producers/filmmakers/people who do something creative in the visual arts: good music can bring your crappy production to the next level. It can hide mistakes, make your idiot actors appear awesome, turn a completely wretched dance routine into MJ’s Thriller with just the right tune to set just the right mood. The music at Cirque was horrendous, and I’m sure the Radio Shack-grade speakers weren’t helping anything. It almost wasn’t worth the 25 bones I paid for my ticket; if I was one of the people who paid 80 for the ground level I’d have reason to burn the tent down.

No stars.

2 years ago

Notes