Tech people ARE worse. It’s like they spend the first 30 years of their life in a profession and industry that wants to behave like they’re on the spectrum. And then, a divorce or a layoff later, they wake up suddenly and realise they they’ve barely been a human being most of their life. And then you have to deal with their awkward post-epiphany experiences, like first wild night out, first threesome / orgy, first highly annoying mdma roll. But the pre-epiphany ones are neutered children who look at you or the other adults in the room living their best lives in utter confusion.
Tech people are the pits, either pre or post epiphany, no wonder they think burning man is cool.
I'm actually dipping in for compliment part2: this type of booze story is so hard to pull off without sounding like an unreliable-narrator, denial-of-booze-problem but this really nailed it, seemingly effortlessly. At no point does the decision-making seem the least bit impaired, more like the product of strange, nyc nightlife circumstances, which I'm guessing it was.
Don't the best nights end with splashdown and phone loss? Ok, maybe not nowadays, since people's whole lives are on their phones and he cloud is susceptible to being held hostage by unsavory types. Bring back burn books! But I digress. Fabulous piece as always!
It needs to be known (speaking about Cintra’s painting) that THESE were not the KEE-LOCKS from Toho’s classic ‘Ghidra the Three-Headed Monster’. No no.
In a mildewed hot tub they may have LOOKED like KEE-LOCKS, but that would be a massive deception of cosmic-cataclysmic proportions.
These advanced Japanese waiters were/ARE, in fact, Pippy-Tippy Wunkyjubles from Planet Zero. From there they controlled Monster Zero (Ghidra) and they marshaled the pointlessly imported Godzilla and the even more pointlessly imported Rodan to fight the three-headed rubberdevil on their planet, only to transport all three back to earth for a final, quaking conniption fit that featured one anemic and blonde American stewardess who cried, “SHIN-Ji, HELP!”
Transfixing pathos.
How do I know all this? Because I was raised on Count Chocula. You couldn’t keep me from bouncing off the walls, as a child, but on Saturday mornings you COULD plant my ass for a Godzilla flick.
Cintra painted these villains with stunning accuracy. If she herself is from Planet Zero, you may never hear from me again, in which case, I urge you all to send your valuables to Mothra, c/o Jonathan Kieran, Infant Island, via Big Sur, Big Sur, BIG SUR.
Cintra, Magnifica, I woulda squeegeed you. But maybe it’s best that you dripped your way home. (I just KNOW ‘Godzilla Vs. Monster Zero’ was playing on the feckless late-night TV you destroyed. It’s okay. You don’t have to share the slightest hint.) Brilliant memory, lady. As usual.
The lesson I take from this is always to wear shiny black when out at night in New York. I can also see advantages to being an oil-slick puddle in disguise.
DRINKING IN NEW YORK
Tech people ARE worse. It’s like they spend the first 30 years of their life in a profession and industry that wants to behave like they’re on the spectrum. And then, a divorce or a layoff later, they wake up suddenly and realise they they’ve barely been a human being most of their life. And then you have to deal with their awkward post-epiphany experiences, like first wild night out, first threesome / orgy, first highly annoying mdma roll. But the pre-epiphany ones are neutered children who look at you or the other adults in the room living their best lives in utter confusion.
Tech people are the pits, either pre or post epiphany, no wonder they think burning man is cool.
Remind me to tell you about the time I found myself in an unheated stairwell in January, wearing nothing but a small cat.
Man, this killed. Actually LOL-ed me with the chastened rise from the gorgeous, turquoise, suspiciously unoccupied banquette. Like an
extremely chic Inspector Clouseau .
I'm actually dipping in for compliment part2: this type of booze story is so hard to pull off without sounding like an unreliable-narrator, denial-of-booze-problem but this really nailed it, seemingly effortlessly. At no point does the decision-making seem the least bit impaired, more like the product of strange, nyc nightlife circumstances, which I'm guessing it was.
Slurshing w/ no merkaba, screenless in the stars!
If you make it home while plastered without getting killed, I'd call this an absolute win.
Astrological! So dang funny. I love this. Nice to be reminded that mortifying things happen to other people, too. LOVE YOU
Don't the best nights end with splashdown and phone loss? Ok, maybe not nowadays, since people's whole lives are on their phones and he cloud is susceptible to being held hostage by unsavory types. Bring back burn books! But I digress. Fabulous piece as always!
It needs to be known (speaking about Cintra’s painting) that THESE were not the KEE-LOCKS from Toho’s classic ‘Ghidra the Three-Headed Monster’. No no.
In a mildewed hot tub they may have LOOKED like KEE-LOCKS, but that would be a massive deception of cosmic-cataclysmic proportions.
These advanced Japanese waiters were/ARE, in fact, Pippy-Tippy Wunkyjubles from Planet Zero. From there they controlled Monster Zero (Ghidra) and they marshaled the pointlessly imported Godzilla and the even more pointlessly imported Rodan to fight the three-headed rubberdevil on their planet, only to transport all three back to earth for a final, quaking conniption fit that featured one anemic and blonde American stewardess who cried, “SHIN-Ji, HELP!”
Transfixing pathos.
How do I know all this? Because I was raised on Count Chocula. You couldn’t keep me from bouncing off the walls, as a child, but on Saturday mornings you COULD plant my ass for a Godzilla flick.
Cintra painted these villains with stunning accuracy. If she herself is from Planet Zero, you may never hear from me again, in which case, I urge you all to send your valuables to Mothra, c/o Jonathan Kieran, Infant Island, via Big Sur, Big Sur, BIG SUR.
Cintra, Magnifica, I woulda squeegeed you. But maybe it’s best that you dripped your way home. (I just KNOW ‘Godzilla Vs. Monster Zero’ was playing on the feckless late-night TV you destroyed. It’s okay. You don’t have to share the slightest hint.) Brilliant memory, lady. As usual.
The lesson I take from this is always to wear shiny black when out at night in New York. I can also see advantages to being an oil-slick puddle in disguise.