The Angry Flirt

Instead of the usual bar scene, this past Saturday night Mr. Zhuang and I decided to head over to a "house party" to celebrate Mardi Gras--only this house was a crowded apartment right in the middle of the East Village and overlooking Second Avenue. It's about as close as you'll see law students cutting loose in the middle of the semester, though one can argue celebrating "Mardi Gras" a week late is all the excuse you need to get future lawyers to get their drink on.


I came prepared for the festivities, proudly wearing my Saints sweatshirt which announced to all who looked upon it that I had actual ties to the holiday and knew a little something about the traditions. I even came prepared with beads of my own; Mr. Zhuang brought with him the baby that he had found from our King Cake and the plastic cup that came with the cake, ready to serve as the Taster for the "Hurricanes" that were being prepared. We had a great time, as I got to friends that I rarely get to see any more and Zhuang continued to serve as said Taster, and the night passed without major incident; all in all, a pretty decent Saturday night.

That being said, I wanted to call up an incident that is the inspiration for the title of this blog, and puts a spin on the usual "Nic Ouzo Frightens Women" story. At one point I was being introduced to a couple of ladies who were friends of one of my classmate, and we began talking. One of them noticed my Saints sweatshirt and asked about it, and I replied, yup, I was born in Baton Rouge and had been a Saints fan all my life, and yup, I was as excited as a pig on payday when they won the Super Bowl. At some point, one of them asked if I played for the Saints, and being a little confused, I said, no, not quite (I mean, I'm built like a linebacker, but one that would sit on the end of the bench). It was at this point I realized that perhaps this girl was a little unhinged and more than a little drunk, but here I was, in a crowded kitchen with little place else to go, I better make the best of the situation.

The conversation continued, but it was clear that some sort of tonal shift had occurred. At one point someone else came by and asked about my sweatshirt, and the woman who asked if I played for them shouted "No he doesn't care for them, he's a traitor!" Now, anyone who knows me realizes I cannot have my fanhood questioned, but they also know I am quite diplomatic, so I sidestep and talk to the person directly and straighten things out. But I am aware that I've entered into some strange zone here with this one girl, who continues to talk to me, oblivious to all awkwardness.


She then tells me that she graduated from the University of Texas--I said, hey, that's great, and you know what, my sister just got accepted there! It's her number one choice, but we'll see about the money that other schools offer. The girl then grabs my shoulder and begins to tell me that hey, I went there with no money, and I'll be paying it off--I'm working and getting only 30,000 a year and living in Manhattan, I CAN DO IT SO CAN SHE! SHE NEEDS TO GO TO UT! She is very insistent on this point, and sure as shit she will not take "no" for an answer. At this point I tell her, hey, I'm pushing for my sister to go to UT, because if she does, I'm going to crash at her place so I can come to South By Southwest, which is only one of the most awesome events to go to if you love music. Back when I was working in radio, I had the opportunity to have my expenses paid for on a trip and get passes to all the shows, but it didn't match up with my schedule, and I've always regretted passing up the opportunity. I was then informed by this girl that she hated this festival--"I can understand going to see a show for a band you know, but to see band you don't even know..." I then mention how I worked at a radio station, and it was my job to listen to new music and she interjected I DON'T UNDERSTAND. THAT'S JUST TERRIBLE! WHY WOULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT? Needless to say, I kept smiling but not saying much after that.

Well, sucks to be you, lady who works in fashion for only 30,000 a year--I could have introduced you to Mr. Zhuang, who works for a fashion magazine. As it is...no dice.

Weed, weed and Hennessy (Well, at least the Hennessy...)

Ed McMahon raps

You heard me right: Ed McMahon is now rapping. He's wearing gold chains. He's got hoes. He's back on top ... sort of.

The sad part of this is that Ed McMahon is doing this for FreeCreditReport.com. This, of course, stemmed from his recent financial woes. But I was hoping for full on videos with Ed and, I dunno, DMX? That would be quite the show, don't you think?

And this got me: "I knew I could sing the blues, but I didn't know I could rap." Where is this Ed McMahon blues album? I would like to hear this. I think the WHOLE WORLD would like to hear this.

If you're reading this, Ed, get in contact with me. There are a lot of unanswered questions.

The Thing That Should Not Be

In other words: Things That Shouldn't Exist, Yet Here They Are

If you've ever been to a college party, or have seen what a fifteen year old tries to buy with a fake ID, you've certainly come across this product.



We are all familiar with the inherent failure that is the "flavored malt beverage". You take all the fun out of beer, by making it so incredibly artificially fruity, and you take all the fun out of schnapps, by making it so powerfully weak, and you get the Smirnoff Ice. It's a drink that says "I can't handle alcohol" or "I do not want to scuff my boat shoes", if you really get down to it. Utterly pointless, especially considering you get more of a buzz from snorting Pixie Stix.

Now imagine what you know already, but with one word added: LIGHT.

That's right. Flavor scientists have now created for the body public the wonderfully retarded drink, Smirnoff Ice Light. Now Google Image Search has failed me once again in providing an actual look at this concoction, but I assure you, it does indeed exist. It's a drink that says not only everything I mentioned before, but that "When I party, I need to count carbs".

I'll say it once, and I'll say it again, people. If you're going to drink, actually drink something, for God's sake. This is unacceptable. I'm pretty sure that this is the real reason behind home foreclosures.

Alcohol: It's what you're drinking

A few recipes from the WDR crew for your Halloween party (or any other for that matter)

It's a well-known fact that the WDR crew is a fan of booze. The sauce. Strong drink. Firewater. So it should come as no surprise when I say that we have quite a few recipes for our imbibing pleasure. We all know The Devil's Balls is the "breakfast FOR champions," but what what about the late-night drinks?

Well, here they are:

The Red Swede

This is a rather mysterious drink characterized by it's not actually having a fixed recipe. Instead, this drink must follow these guidelines: It must be red, it must have a cherry in it, it must be delicious, and it must cost less than $5. Beyond that, it could really be anything. I made one last week with a mix of grenadine, rum, vodka and some Sprite. It was a bit too sweet, but a friend told me it tasted like "Swedish Fish." I can only assume this is true. I suggest trying to order it at a bar and see what they can come up with.

The Sickenator

This monster of a drink was created by Joe and Nic, and I'm pretty sure it lives up to the name. It involves (as I recall) mixing 1/2 bottle of Wild Turkey with 1/4 bottle of tequila. My stomach is frightened...

The Hard Henry

What comes off as probably the most homo-erotic drink on the list, the Hard Henry is also the weakest of the drinks so far. It is a mix of Henry Weinhard's Cream Soda with spiced rum. This was invented in the dorms as a way of drinking without getting an MIP ("But it's a soda pop, officer..."). This was surprisingly effective and surprisingly delicious. Mix about 1 1/2 shots of spiced rum in a bottle of cream soda (drink the first part so you'll have room). To mix, invert the bottle with your thumb over the top, much the same way you would with a Corona and lime.

The Whiskey and Coke Slurpee

The WDR crew is a big fan of the whiskey and coke (or at least the coke), and we also have been known to hit up the 7/11 for some Slurpee goodness. Why not combine the two? That's what we have here. Pretty self-explanatory. I guess it depends on how big a Slurpee you have or how strong you want the drink to be, but my roommate and I tried this with 32 ounce Slurpees and finished most of a bottle of whiskey in it. Great for summertime.

The Evil Robut

This is a drink that doesn't really have a story because I just made it up. Sure, I could have gone for "Zombie" or something like that (it is Halloween), but that's already a drink and I wanted to make fun of the way Joe's Dad says "robot." I also couldn't think of much else. Except for Pumpkin Brains. Hmmm...

Pumpkin Brains

Pumpkin Brains is really a kick in the nuts that your Halloween party is probably lacking (Note: We don't know if this is a good thing or a bad thing). Pumpkin Brains is a mix of 2 parts lemon lime Gatorade, 4 parts pulpy orange juice, 1 part tequila and 1 part Bacardi 151. After a couple a couple of these you will probably be making out with the French Maid or Robin, depending. Undoubtedly you'll regret the decision but continue to drink this one anyway.



So that's it for this post. You have any better ideas? I doubt it. But if you do, post 'em. We do love drinking...

So You Find Yourself Living In L.A. (Part 3)

aka a compilation of unrelated crap


Hey, don't knock it... that subtitle is soo L.A.

These are just a few more things that have come to my attention here:





1. People in Los Angeles don't seem to understand basic elevator etiquette.

Seriously. Every time I'm in an elevator and I get to my destination (most frequently the bottom floor of my apartment building) I am greeted by a moderate swarm of mostly girls who don't seem to understand that you wait until the people inside the elevator get out before boarding yourself, rather than springing on the unsuspecting rider and packing him/her/them into the back of the car without any means to get out... seriously, I was almost late for class today because this happened and there was no way to get out before the elevator went back up to another floor. I had to ride the damn thing down all over again and push my way through another onslaught when I reached the first floor. Is it really that hard to understand that you let people off first? Seriously? Come on L.A. Get with the program.

As a side note, I have started taking a few countermeasures for this problem

• Standing so close to the elevator door that my nose touches it, standing up perfectly straight, and staring blankly forward with my eyes as wide as possible... it usually freaks people out and thereby grants me enough time to get off the elevator while the swarmers step back in surprise/fear.
• Making a loud/painful screech just before the doors open
• Pretending to zip my pants up and wiping a hand on the door as soon as it opens
• Leaving my backpack at the front of the elevator, thereby tripping those too anxious to ride the sweet, sweet elevator.

2. My roommate failed his online alcohol education course 5 times.

Seriously. I didn't know this was even possible. I took shots to this damn thing while I was taking it and went through approximately one whole fifth of rum. I still passed the first time without any effort at all. He failed so many times the site stopped working, and he is unable to log back in. I am 100% baffled.

3. My hallway is so dead they have earned my wrath in the form of ironic music choice.

Everyone in my hall is dead quiet. Seriously. I haven't seen or heard anything from anyone. I know it's an 'apartment' (dormpartment) and all, but still... introduce yourselves, people. Nobody even has whiteboards out for me to leave a note on, or possibly penis. So, I retaliate by blasting music that is unabashedly ironic for someone on one of America's richest campuses: Dead Kennedys (Kill the Poor), Rage Against The Machine (Take the Power Back), ... etc

I have yet to receive any comment from anyone.

4. When people here put a hilarious mustache on the sign for their store, expect the clerk/owner of that store to posses that exact mustache.

There is no way for me to convey how funny this story was... suffice it to say the guy's mustache a thing of legend. Also, he got bonus points for having a portrait of Zapata on his wall. ... I don't think I got any bonus points for going "ZAPATA!" upon entering.

5. Miller beer is disgusting, yet also disgustingly cheap.

Seriously. $12 for a 24-pack, and my roommate is buying. ... it's been "Miller time" pretty often these past few days.

Also:

• 3-Olives O'clock
• Tequila Tuesday
• Hump day Hefeweizen
• SoCo Saturday
• Jaeger.... uh, we don't actually have one for this one, it's just good...
• and of course Bacardi Bedtime

I think that's all for now.