Happy snow day!
The cold brutal winds of February, the soaked sneakers trudging through brown slush, the dark edges of night pressing in from both sides like an angry vice can mean only one thing: L@VE!
Why the holiday ostensibly meant to celebrate and honor amore is situated in the middle of the most depressing, soul-crushing part of the year, I can’t comprehend, except that it probably has something to do with the shady cabal of Hallmark and Hershey conspiring in deviousness to study the holiday-deficient stretch of the winter calendar and deciding it was prime to STRIKE, suckers. But here it comes, and there’s a bunch of stuff going on around town, which I wrote about here, including my favs:
An animal dating and mating program at Prospect Zoo, including a live-animal demo (!!); and a short-movie festival at 3rd Ward with three-minute films all featuring three things: a reference to at least one of the three wise monkeys, a celebrity death and something uncontrollable. Then there’s the un-lovey-dovey stuff, like the Rejection Show at the Bell House and the free Wake for Love and Relationship Obituary open mic at the Knitting Factory; plus the pajama-clad BK Meatup at the Bell House.
Not to say there aren’t people out there who do acts of Good on this emotionally manipulative hollerday, but it rarely resembles the inside content on your typical greeting card (remember on the Real World London where the punk guy’s GF sent him a pig’s heart stuck through with steel nails? Now that’s luv).
I particularly liked this post today from Robert Radish at the Y! Music Blog about Inappropriate Punk Rock Candy Hearts. Quote he:
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So what if the one date I got from the last Meatup ended up stranded in the high Sierras of awkwardness? The Meatup itself was a no-pressure situation blast, and some people had much better luck than I (Fucked in Park Slope has been chronicling those lovey duvey success stories). Tonight’s theme: naughty holiday party. Also time to mention, for no particular reason, there’s a Trader Joe’s product called “nutty bits.” This makes me laugh every time.
Secret tip: more girls have bought tickets to go than guys. As much as I hate to blow up my own percentages when they’re tilted so far in my favor, all dudes should holler in my general direction if they are interested in attending FOR FREE.
(From Brokelyn) Holidays. Nog with two straws. People skating hand-in-hand. Sickeningly cute couples huddled for warmth behind a frosted coffee shop window. It’s all enough happy winter romantic goo to make you want to vomit. And you know damn well you want to be a part of it. Unfortunately, December is a notoriously crappy time to meet new people to date, what with everyone’s attentions all on parties and family and such. But this year, don’t worry, because the BK Meatup is back, and it’s meatier than before.
The BK Holiday Meatup (naughty office-party theme) is this Wednesday, Dec. 9, from 7 to 11 p.m. at the Bell House. Be prepared for hot Santas, one hour of free strong drinks to attack your inhibitions, $3 Busch beers all night, free massages (endings may vary) and hot dogs for sale by recently Martha Stewart-approved Asia Dog.
Tickets are $10 ahead of time, $15 at the door. So buy one now! Click on the meatup ad on (the Brokelyn) page to get tickets (down there, on the right, in red, with the words “GETTING LAID” on it). Yep, you found it. Now, good luck under the mistletoe.
I donned my lucky Chucks and took my perpetually single self to the Bell House Wednesday night for the first BK Meatup, not entirely sure how the skeptical hounds of the borough would respond to a singles-themed event, and having never attended a blog event before, and therefore justifiably scared of what terrors the real-world manifestations of blog commentators would portend. Early ticket sales were strong so I figured at least a few people would come through and mingle, if for nothing else than the cheap beer. Worst case, it would be a blog summit for us poverty addled kids at Brokelyn, the potty-mouthed playas at Fucked in Park Slope and the informative borough culture gurus at Brooklyn Based
I was also mentally preparing myself to have to volunteer for the male wet T shirt contest, under the assumption that dudes at the event would be too shy to climb on stage and have water dumped all over them like so much organic, free-range beef.
Turns out, my skepticism was stupid wrong on all counts.
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