Strange Boys

Last night The Strange Boys played the Knitting Factory with opening act Natural Child. The show was put on by Scion, they're putting on a string of events in NYC and Austin. According to the website, the company is also putting out EP's. It's weird but that's what I gathered from looking over the website. Natural Child seemed to have the crowd mildly entertained. I didn't actually see them play, I watched it through the window connecting the bar to the venue. The setup at the Knit Factory is convenient that way, but it's bad for bands. Strange Boys was great and you should definitely check out their shit. Their R&B and Soul tracks were tight and the frontman's impressive performance was seemingly effortless. When I visit the Knit, I'm sure to have a few 5 dollar beer+shots. I'm not training for a marathon so fuck it. Afterwards, we headed to Savalas nearby on Bedford Ave. The place was a ghost town, but the bartender was cool and cut us two beer+shots for 8 bucks. The bar was empty, but the DJ was still spinning. No iTunes shuffle bullshit for that bad mamajama. He was like the band that kept playing as the Titanic was going down.

Halloween is my one true love, and it has arrived my friends. This year, I'm a 40 oz. of Olde English malt liquor. I'll be popping around town this weekend, getting properly wastey-faced and soaking in all that sweet Halloween goodness. Fuck Christmas and fuck Thanksgiving and the 4th of July. Nothing beats Halloween.

The agenda:

Bathe

Go to work and do monkey slave labor

Party

Free Beer

Last weekend I worked 20 hours in two days at the Fifth Avenue Diner in Park Slope. I made $70 per 10 hour shift ($4 wage + tips). That's $7 an hour, which is actually below minimum wage. However, I was ecstatic to be working all those hours, because poverty is becoming a very real possibility on my horizon. The owners and waitstaff are mostly cool. The waitresses are generally around my age and native to Brooklyn. The manager in the morning is a tiny Russian woman who likes to drink Bloody Mary's and yell at people. She'll look up from her Blackberry from time to time, then complain about the first thing she sees without any idea of the overall operation. She looks a lot like Benjamin Button as a young kid.

I hit O'Hanlon's Bar tuesday night for a comedy open mic. It was a good show because it was really for the comedians, and that's what I want an open mic to be. It wasn't so much a performance but more like a workshop. I knew a guy there, Brad Hagen, he's from the same town as me and he hosted a popular open mic in New Hampshire.

MEC (Media Edge) is an advertising and marketing agency with clients like Paramount and KFC. They gave me an interview yesterday for an entry-level Media Buying position. I would work on a team that talks to networks and gets the clients commercials on the air for the best price possible. I really want to get this job and tell 5th Ave. Diner to suck it. I went in and the receptionist handed me an application to fill out. I knew the company was called Media Edge, but everything was labeled MEC. I asked her, "What does the C stand for?" and she said, "No don't worry about that, you just need to fill out your information." I said "Yeah, I know. But I'm curious, what does the C in MEC stand for? There's Media Edge, and then a C." She said, "Sir! You don't need to worry about that stuff! You start with your last name and then fill out the rest of the application." I said, "I understand how an application works! But I have a simple question! What does the C stand for?" And she stared at me, so I walked away and filled out the application. I still don't know what the C stands for. Probably not Company, but maybe Communications or Content. When I walked in, I had no idea about the job or the company, but the woman I met with gave me a detailed run down. Following that, I met with the managers for 4 seperate assignment-based groups. They all had openings, and I thought the interviews went very well. So we'll see what happens.

That night I went to a party for Relix Magazine's release of a special issue. It was at the Touring Company, a clothing store in SoHo. The store had a bunch of stuff by independent designers, and small placards about the designers next to the items. A friend of mine from college works at the magazine and invited me. There was an open bar (only serving Magic Hat's) and I definitely had my fill. Around nine o'clock they were closing the store and ending the party, so I grabbed another beer and double fisted. Because I'm all class.

Pavement Hitting Episode 5

Today was the 5th time (at least!! I've lost count) I went wandering the streets determinedly handing out my resume to every establishment that I saw. It's hard to tell if I was successful, because New Yorkers are good at everything-that's probably why I'm having so much trouble. But one thing they are good at, particularly employers, is lying-or at least giving you that fake smile that makes you unsure whether you should follow through for the position or not.

I had a quick band practice with The Dardys before we headed for some food at San Loco, a really colorful Mexican joint on Stanton St. I only had chips & salsa, so can't recommend much else but I can't wait to go in and try their Macho Nachos, which looked bomb and are only $7. For those of you in Boston, I have yet to find a replacement for the amazing vegan chili nachos at The Otherside.

The best part of the day was experiencing my first taste of CMJ at Pianos. The Dardys and I stumbled upon it while going in for their $5 burger special. I have to rave about this for a second, because as a vegetarian and unemployed person it's impossible to find something this perfect. Pianos has a menu of burgers that are $5 including fries or salad. And it was a LEGIT veggie burger and salad, too-I mean SO GOOD!!

Tomorrow I'm attending my friend Amanda's CMJ party-check out the flyer above. I think it's open to the public, but costs $5. You can check out her amazing promotional work and bands she supports here.

CoCo66

Last night my band Michael Jordyn & Greg opened for Little Teeth, Amy Rossi, and Miracles of Modern Science at Coco66. It was my first MJ&G show as an official resident in NYC. The sound guy and stage equipment were legit and everyone sounded alright, but not whoever thought that people would be willing to pay $10 to see some random bands they had never heard of at a dive bar in northern Greenpoint. They kinda screwed up by making the venue space separate from the bar, so the 20+ people there were unaware that there was some crazy indie rock happening behind the curtains, and couldn't partake in the fun.

Little Teeth were on tour from San Francisco, but could easily have been mistaken for a huge advertisement campaign for the holiday known as Christmas. All of their equipment (such as keyboards stacked upon keyboards and a drum set with tons of drums, toys, pots, pans, etc.) was covered with decorative lights and all of their merchandise was Santa Claus and snowmen themed. Besides that, if you like pretty vocal harmonies, droning, shoegazey, tribal-sounding grooves and danceable bass lines with sweet keyboard parts, you should check Little Teeth. They were also super nice, earnestly supportive of the other bands and inspiringly enthusiastic about life.

Also, if you haven't yet, you should download a copy of Michael Jordyn & Greg's first EP here.

Kaiju

As you know, I started training at Napoli Pizza e Vino. They said they'd call me that week for another shift, but failed to do so. I called them, and they decided not to keep me on. So, that job actually cost me money because I had to buy black pants to work there. But there's good news. Today I got a job bussing tables for a restaurant in Park Slope. It's minimum wage plus shared tips with the waitstaff, so I don't expect to make much, but it's income nonetheless.

I had a "job interview" with a "legitimate business" called W G Management. I answered a craigslist ad and they called me in. From the looks of the office I thought they published a magazine for pedophiles. It was on the third floor above a dentist, and I was afraid for my life. The interview itself was more like a sales pitch, and I felt as if he interviewed a thousand people that day and said the exact same thing to each. I was interviewing for a non-descript customer service job. I say non-descript because I asked him to explain what the job entailed, and he didn't have an answer. He just continued spewing bullshit, and it was clear that I had become wrapped up in a scam of some sort. I thought I'd be selling sunglasses over the phone or something shitty like that, and I would have totally done that if they paid me. He called me the day after to attend a group interview, and I told him to munch my butt.

A recruiter for CNN called for a phone interview, I had submitted my resume to a shit load of jobs at Time Warner. He didn't have any openings for me, but he passed my information to NY1 and other local stations. I also got a call to interview for a Stock Broker Training job. It was some British guy with the phone number 212-000-0000 and he was not happy with his life. I have no recollection of applying for a such a job, but I pretended that it was my life long dream, and he set me up for an interview. He said he'd email me the address, but I never received anything.

Last night was the Kaiju Big Battel at the Warsaw in Brooklyn. It's a comical wrestling match between costumed heroes, monsters, and normally inanimate objects. It was totally entertaining, and the wrestling was often impressive.

That night, on the train ride home, I walk on the train to find none other than MICHAEL SHOWALTER sitting directly across from me. If you're unfamiliar with him (which I'm guessing you are because I know everyone who reads this intimately) he's famous for comedy troupes The State and Stella, as well as the film Wet Hot American Summer and his web show The Michael Showalter Showalter. This dude actually got off at Parkside Ave. where I live, and my research today informed me that he lives in Brooklyn. Could it be that he lives in my neighborhood, or was he just looking to schtupp the young lady who accompanied him?

In other news, that rat bastard Greenbean is moving out. He got ghetto housing in Kill Whitey, NY and he's leaving us to save a few bucks. It's too bad he'll probably end up spending it on internet porn when his lady moves away this winter. It's gonna be a blue christmas, Greenbean. I'm referring to your testicles of course. Also I'm just joking around, you'll be missed.

Macaulay Culkin

The Bose store in SoHo decided not to hire me because they can't take on any new employees. When I walked in that one day to give them my resume, they said they were most definitely hiring. I thought it was a sure thing. Fuck. And I'm still waiting on the NBC job.

Thursday was full of drunken debauchery, per usual. Late night, Moe and I ventured to 14th and 1st to attend a free comedy show at Luca Lounge. Overall, the show was totally enjoyable. One woman performed and was very funny, and apparently she'll be taping a Comedy Central special in the coming weeks. We drank Pork Slaps, which were two for the price of one. Afterwards, we hit a dive nearby and enjoyed a PBR and whiskey for $5. It's a trendy drink special. After that we hit a bar on the same block, and this was the second time I've been asked to leave a bar since I moved here a month ago. The details are not important, it's just another dumb asshole denying me service for a dumb reason. Why he felt the need to make less money that night is beyond me. After that we were hanging on a stoop nearby and I needed to piss. I jumped the fence to an entrance-way across the street, and totally fucked up my foot on the pointed edge of the gate. This incident made my Friday a lot more difficult.

Friday I started work at 57 Napoli Pizza e Vino on 57th and Lexington. It's a little place where business people go for lunch. It's got a full menu and wine list, but there's only a brick oven upstairs where the actual seating is located. The chef makes pizza and stuff upstairs, but for everything else (pasta, salads, steaks) you have to order it from the upscale deli downstairs and bring it up. I guess it's the same business because someone can order any beverage they want, like Yoohoo for example, and I just go downstairs, grab it off the shelf and serve it. It's a really loose operation. There's only an acting manager, she's one of the servers. She gave me the interview which lasted 5 minutes, where she basically asked if I know the difference between red and white wine. I do know the difference, but I still have to train a couple shifts before I see any money. When I got up that morning, my foot hurt like I couldn't believe, and I continued to hobble around all day.

That night Jake had a birthday party at Jake's Dilemma. The dilemma is should we as a society allow a semi-retarded jackass to walk our streets for 23 years? I blame the parents. The bar had beirut and pitchers, but it was fairly expensive. Plenty of people showed up for the birthday boy. I left after an hour to avoid spending my rent money on booze.

Saturday would have been John Lennon's 70th birthday, so I visited Strawberry Fields in Central Park. It's a patch of land near the 72nd st. entrance and there's a tile design on the ground that says IMAGINE. People sported John Lennon gear and sang songs, and crunchy hippies sold stuff. More importantly, right before we entered the park, we passed Seth Green and Macaulay Culkin. But more importantly, I saw Macaulay Culkin. In person. Later that night, after mulling around Central Park and Midtown, I went to see a friend from NH who's sister lives in Brooklyn. The sister is getting married and my friend is in New York planning the wedding. I met them at Washington Commons. It was a relaxed joint with some tasty and highly alcoholic brews. Mojo Risin' Double IPA, $6.

19th Century Pub Crawl

Well, dear readers, we've entered the month of October and there are serious matters that I must attend to.

1. I have a serious lack of money and need to work ASAP. Sallie Mae won't be too pleased with me this month. But she can go ahead and blow me. The job hunt continues as usual, but my situation is not improving as much as it should. On the positive side, I had an interview at the Bose store in SoHo. I don't know what they'd pay, or exactly how many hours I'd get, but it is employment.

2. Halloween is coming up, and I need to start thinking about a costume. I could go topical (Oil covered goose, gay military man, full body airport security scan) or perhaps make an obscure pop culture reference (Cousin Mose, Sandflea, Crazy Joe Davola). Maybe I'll be a slutty something, like a slutty MTA employee or a slutty slut-slut. The choices are endless, and I'm obligated to give it some real thought.

Last Friday we hit the Franklin Park Bar to celebrate the birth of some guy I don't know. For beers on the cheap, you've got Modela or Pork Slap, both priced at $4. The bar includes a spacious interior with a dancefloor and lots of seating. Near the bathrooms you've got Skeeball and a couple arcade games. Obviously that means Big Buck Hunter. Within the birthday group was a guy I partied with a couple times when I lived in Boston. People fed me tequila and cigarettes, and it was pretty solid.

When I got up the next morning, I had a thought that I so often have on weekend mornings: I am never drinking again. Or at least today. But alas, I had plans that night to attend a 19th Century pub crawl. I met up with an old friend with whom I went to theater camp as a young kid, and we followed the crawl to New York City's oldest drinking establishments. We made 5 stops:

1. Bridge Cafe. This was the meeting spot at the beginning. Some people were clad in 19th Century garb, but I wore jeans and chose not to be a dweeb. There were free hors d'oeuvres and I snagged a BK lager for $5.

2. Swift, East Village. Named after the writer Jonathan Swift. We walk in, and they have a back room reserved for the pub crawl. Before I could get back there, they asked for $10 to pay for a special scotch whiskey and a lecture. We said fuck that and sat at the bar. Yuengling, $6.

3. Rye House. This place kicked ass. It was crowded as hell, but the beers were great and they passed around tons of food. I snacked like a mother fucker on lobster and bread. I had never heard of the beers being offered, they were speciality brews and rarely contained less than 8% alcohol. I made a decision, but the bartender was out of what I wanted. He acknowledged the fact that I wanted a high gravity drink, and set me up with 4 small glasses of different beer to taste. I was so happy. I drank the beer and then placed an order. The Rye House definitely beat out the other bars.  Delicious unknown beer, $7.

4. Old Town Bar. This place was built in 1892 and at once did not allow women, which is why you have to go upstairs to use the women's room. The men's room is conveniently placed downstairs, and APPARENTLY houses the oldest urinal in New York City. I used it. It's one of those wide urinals you see at football stadiums, except classier because it's old. This older English guy sat with us and talked up my lady companions. He was ultra creepy, and I sat smugly and enjoyed every moment of his failure. BK Lager and mouth-destroying nachos, $12.

5. Pete's Tavern. These guys were douches. It sucks because they claim that O. Henry sat at one of their booths and wrote Gift of the Magi. I was looking forward to this bar. We get there before the rest of the crawl, and the manager has no idea about any pub crawl. I ask a bartender for the wine list, and he hands it to me. A moment later he taps my shoulder and I turn to him. He demanded my ID, and I said I'd give it up when I make an order. There was an old couple next to me and they gave me a look, so I gave one back at them. I turned around, but the bartender took the list from me and told me to leave. I argued with him, but he said that I had an attitude and that I'd get drunk and cause trouble. I argued more and told him to fuck off, and eventually I was kicked out. No beers, $0.

MichaelJordyn and Greg EP

FREE SWIM: MichaelJordyn and Greg EP

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