From the Desk of Oliver Hartman – Resident Bargain Whorespondent
It’s the day after and cupid has shit in his diaper and cigarette breath. I, on the other hand, have jalepeno tequila on my breath and haven’t defecated – too much cheese at the house party in Bushwick. It was manageably “festive” – a guy drew a picture of someone ripping out another person’s heart and wrote “You Stole My Heart” on the inside. Girls’ digust contorted faces melted when they opened it. There was some tort and heart shaped bread as well, but that was about it.
There was also a great crowd: an Italian, a Czech, Portuguese, someone from Kansas. It was jovial. A girl complained about breaking ice and I re-mixed it with whiny overtones, but said it was just the refrigerator door squeaking. According to her, “the refrigerator door is going home alone tonight”. So we turned to Martinus, the Czech. He took the ice and told us to “watch this, this is how we kill fish back home”. He reigned a blow down on the ice with a can opener. We were surprised that they used a can opener, and then he clarified, “but with our hands”. And so the night continued. A guy articulated his love for a chocolate tort by saying, “It’s like having stem cells injected straight into my brain” and I missed the transfer from L to G and ended up in Union Square early in the morning.
And so it ended, and thankfully we can say goodbye to days that have cherub mascots, which is why I was so excited to find an event touting the Green Fairy! Check out the description of today’s Sunday Show, an arrangement of quasi-chaotic performances that bring the knife’s edge back to underground. It sounds like a hurricane of flesh and fire, probably confined to a small dark space. You need to email SundayShowNYC@gmail.com to have them send you details on location and price.