I actually hadn't planned on posting anything today, but in New York City, weird stuff just keeps happening....
So I checked out this dive bar I've been meaning to try for a while. I noticed it near the office and had read good things about it online. It was actually pretty cool. It was laid back, with cheap food and drinks (cheap Pabst by the can - always a plus). I got the summer intern in the office to come along with me too, which was cool.
I'm not going to lie, the first thing I noticed when I walked in was the bartender, who literally had breasts the size of your head. Judging by her look and accent, I want to say she was like Croatian, or some other kind of Eastern European.
Now, a ridiculously endowed bartender is really not too uncommon, but this bartender wasn't content hiding the gals away behind her sports bra (masquerading as a "top")... she periodically let them out for air, which was a surprise to say the least.
We were first treated to them as we tried to order some cheeseburgers from her.
I guess we stumbled on the bar's secret code, apparently cheeseburgers = ta-tas. Makes sense to me.
So we order the burgers, and the bartender (in her broken English) tried to explain to us that they were small, like sliders. We were confused, so she decides to use a visual aid and tells us they're "very small, like these..." then she proceeds to flash us and point to her nipple as a size example.
She didn't lie. Sure enough, they were indeed nipple-sized sliders.
I'm pretty sure after that she showed them off to various other groups up and down the bar.
I'm going to hazard to guess she generally does well in the tips department.
Even without taking into account the exhibitionist bartender, it was a cool little bar with good prices and we shot the shit with the other guys who came in and had a lot of fun, so I think I'll be going back. Plus the bartender was a goofy bonus.
I wonder what was going through my coworker's head after I invited him to this bar? I'm sure he thinks I'm the pinnacle of class, right? Oh well...
So after having a few drinks at the bar, I decided to go grocery shopping on the way home.
All I have in my kitchen is some spices, booze and some water in the fridge. I figured it's about time to start stocking up on some actual foodstuffs and the like.
So I finally went to the big grocery store in my neighborhood... it was kind of strange though. Until today, I've been the lone non-Dominican everywhere I've visited in my neighborhood... but at this grocery store I was the lone Gentile.
At least that means I probably was getting a decent deal, right? (I'm going to hell, and I know it... oh well...)
My main purpose was to get the basics for cold cuts, so I went straight to the deli counter.
It was a little counter run by a kid with a yarmulke... after I noticed that, I noticed that I was totally the only guy in line without one.
I was the lone naked-headed weirdo. I wasn't styling and profiling at all... maybe I'll have to add one to my wardrobe.
It turns out it I was at the kosher deli... I didn't realize until I was heading out that it wasn't the only deli in the store. There was apparently also a whole other regular deli counter on the opposite side of the store.
No matter, that just means I'll just have much more blessed sandwiches for the next couple of weeks.
Also, it turns out the grocery store is where all the beautiful girls in the neighborhood are hiding... so that's a good thing to know.
I'll have to study up on Lethal Weapon II for tips on how to pick up women at the grocery store... though Mel Gibson himself might not be overly welcome at this particular store.
Well, just another day in the city...