nyc shackmeet 2.0
oh lordie.
so here i am. sick as a dog. my doctor from hell says, yes, perhaps 2 more weeks of virus. its 2 pm. at 3, i have to be at the javits center for nyc shackmeet 2.0, to go to a comic con. wonderful, but i want to bail, because i'm sick.
sadly, nyranger (the official host) had to bow out as host, as he forgot to request off work on saturday. so he passed me the crown of thorns as host. people have messaged me their cell phone numbers. i drag my ass down to times square.
where ttyrazor calls and tells me the fucking FIRE MARSHAL shut people off from the comic con. i go into a starbucks and i order myself a chai. i call eric and i say "shit show" and hang up.
i want to say "i am a mouthpiece! i wish i could arrange shackmeets, but i do not have the clout! i am but a mere peon! do not do this to me! i forgot to fully charge my cell phone! please, got, do not forsake me and have it fucking lose battery!"
i sip my chai, and my throat hurts.
luckily, this shackmeet was small, and razor finds loboca among the horror that is the overflowing comiccon. mikecyb calls me and i reroute him to my starbucks. razor and lobo i tell to head to lazerpark. yes, last shackmeet was at lazerpark, but what in HELL am i supposed to do with three boys from the internet for two hours till dinner?
take them to an arcade. DUH.
i find mike, standing lonely on the street corner, and we proceed to lazer park. we play time crisis 3, and i realize how fucking awful i am at video games, and how fucking girly i act around men i don't really know. i mean, i even twirl my goddamned hair. we run through our quarters in 20 minutes. we sign up for a double mission of laser tag.
which rules. i mean, lobo was like, chief vest technican of a laser tag place 10 years ago. we own those teenage and prepubescent kids. i think i knocked one down. and kicked him, in the foggy chemical mist.
we leave, and meet portax, sergeon, and his wife sergeonette, at john's pizza. they drink beer, we eat pizza. i get high fives. they take pictures we laugh. we continue on to a bar lobo's sister recommends. irish place, with music loud enough that by the end of it, i have lost my voice. fucking sore throat. but they had framboise lambic, and i am happy about that.
at 10.30, we take our leave of the place, where someone (mike, was this you?) has sergeonette make a camera-movie of the six of us saying "i love the cock!" why oh why? i mean, i'm thinking, this is a video of me and five boys screaming that we love the cock. can i even start to tell you why this is wrong? no.
at times square, mike attaches to me, and returns to west harlem to sober up before his train. i don't know what's so alluring about west harlem, or my tiny apartment, but i give him a glass of water, make myself some tea that does not help my voice, and we chat till he ambles out around midnight, into the night to find his way back to upstate new york.
however. the perks of this night (more friends, right? guaranteed off the internet or your money back) include:
sergeonette said yes to a ddr party at her aparment. this is great. why? because now maybe eric will let ME have a shackmeet housewarming. and i get a ddr party! i think sergeonette was misled by me. "look, she's a girl! they can't be all THAT bad." but look at me. i'm a fucking shitshow. i just put on a good cover. i am actually playing for the other team. run away, run away.
lobo rules, and gave me tips about google, if i wasn't a pussy. maybe if he gets a job with them, i'd grow some balls and have him help me out. we'll put that as a bookmark for later.
they want more meets. maybe, next time, i'll either just peg myself as the go-to, or try and hide along the sidelines. regardless, the pheonix that was this meet gets a grade A-. i mean, it got me out of the house, right?\
edit: because i've heard word that this was negative (it wasn't i had fun, i'm just a cranky bitch) i'm linking yall to mike's write up. you can also see a handful of photos there, too.
http://orbit.vect.org/?nycshack2
so here i am. sick as a dog. my doctor from hell says, yes, perhaps 2 more weeks of virus. its 2 pm. at 3, i have to be at the javits center for nyc shackmeet 2.0, to go to a comic con. wonderful, but i want to bail, because i'm sick.
sadly, nyranger (the official host) had to bow out as host, as he forgot to request off work on saturday. so he passed me the crown of thorns as host. people have messaged me their cell phone numbers. i drag my ass down to times square.
where ttyrazor calls and tells me the fucking FIRE MARSHAL shut people off from the comic con. i go into a starbucks and i order myself a chai. i call eric and i say "shit show" and hang up.
i want to say "i am a mouthpiece! i wish i could arrange shackmeets, but i do not have the clout! i am but a mere peon! do not do this to me! i forgot to fully charge my cell phone! please, got, do not forsake me and have it fucking lose battery!"
i sip my chai, and my throat hurts.
luckily, this shackmeet was small, and razor finds loboca among the horror that is the overflowing comiccon. mikecyb calls me and i reroute him to my starbucks. razor and lobo i tell to head to lazerpark. yes, last shackmeet was at lazerpark, but what in HELL am i supposed to do with three boys from the internet for two hours till dinner?
take them to an arcade. DUH.
i find mike, standing lonely on the street corner, and we proceed to lazer park. we play time crisis 3, and i realize how fucking awful i am at video games, and how fucking girly i act around men i don't really know. i mean, i even twirl my goddamned hair. we run through our quarters in 20 minutes. we sign up for a double mission of laser tag.
which rules. i mean, lobo was like, chief vest technican of a laser tag place 10 years ago. we own those teenage and prepubescent kids. i think i knocked one down. and kicked him, in the foggy chemical mist.
we leave, and meet portax, sergeon, and his wife sergeonette, at john's pizza. they drink beer, we eat pizza. i get high fives. they take pictures we laugh. we continue on to a bar lobo's sister recommends. irish place, with music loud enough that by the end of it, i have lost my voice. fucking sore throat. but they had framboise lambic, and i am happy about that.
at 10.30, we take our leave of the place, where someone (mike, was this you?) has sergeonette make a camera-movie of the six of us saying "i love the cock!" why oh why? i mean, i'm thinking, this is a video of me and five boys screaming that we love the cock. can i even start to tell you why this is wrong? no.
at times square, mike attaches to me, and returns to west harlem to sober up before his train. i don't know what's so alluring about west harlem, or my tiny apartment, but i give him a glass of water, make myself some tea that does not help my voice, and we chat till he ambles out around midnight, into the night to find his way back to upstate new york.
however. the perks of this night (more friends, right? guaranteed off the internet or your money back) include:
sergeonette said yes to a ddr party at her aparment. this is great. why? because now maybe eric will let ME have a shackmeet housewarming. and i get a ddr party! i think sergeonette was misled by me. "look, she's a girl! they can't be all THAT bad." but look at me. i'm a fucking shitshow. i just put on a good cover. i am actually playing for the other team. run away, run away.
lobo rules, and gave me tips about google, if i wasn't a pussy. maybe if he gets a job with them, i'd grow some balls and have him help me out. we'll put that as a bookmark for later.
they want more meets. maybe, next time, i'll either just peg myself as the go-to, or try and hide along the sidelines. regardless, the pheonix that was this meet gets a grade A-. i mean, it got me out of the house, right?\
edit: because i've heard word that this was negative (it wasn't i had fun, i'm just a cranky bitch) i'm linking yall to mike's write up. you can also see a handful of photos there, too.
http://orbit.vect.org/?nycshack2
3 Comments on "nyc shackmeet 2.0"
also that video is hilarious and you know it!