NYC GAYS is hands-down the funniest thing I’ve seen online lately. While it helps to have some familiarity with NYC gay nightlife (he says smugly), it’s certainly not a necessity… I will tell you this: Splash is a terrible, terrible bar that appeals to out-of-towners and NYC neophytes; there are go-go dancers and the crowd skews young and cheesey. That’s my recollection, at any rate. And apparently, it’s still true, since the NYC GAYS site uses this gif under the headline When You Get Invited to Splash:
Oh, Whitney – we miss you… And I will never ever tire of this gif. Or this one.
Also, here’s How Being at Splash Makes You Feel. I am adopting this as my new catchphrase (though I’ll have to adjust the age – only slightly, yes, but I’m going to savor the next 4 1/2 years of being not 52…)
I got a beam rack for my bike, along with a pack designed to work with it. I’m the first to admit, a bike trunk is going to seriously impinge on my bike’s faux-hipster cred – but on the other hand it seems to be perfect. I can fit in my gym gear, my locks and one bottle of wine. Or no gym gear, three bottles of wine and a pint of ice cream. And I could probably fit in a small box of Kleenex, since I’m usually crying when I eat the ice cream…
Happily, though, the rack has a quick release lever – so I can remove it for weekend rides and thus continue to elicit “What is that wrinkly old guy doing riding such a cool bike?” stares from all and sundry.
What seemed like it would be a rather ordinary-though-by-no-means-unpleasant anniversary of my 39th birthday has turned out quite swell. I received the best birthday card ever from my sister and sister-in-law, along with their menagerie. I got lots of calls, emails and Facebook posts feting my increasingly rapid journey into senescence. Friends at work took me to Yank Sing for lunch. There were cupcakes on my desk when I returned from lunch. And I’m being treated to after-work cocktails in an hour. Hooray for me!
Had dinner with Marco last night at Chow. The plan was to meet at the Pilsner for a beer first… I arrived a few minutes early and observed that the crowd at the Pilsner was quite a bit more elderly than I recall – bringing to mind the venerable Twin Peaks bar in the Castro, known colloquially as the “Glass Coffin”. So I texted Marco, wondering “When did the Pilsner turn into the Twin Peaks?” To which he responded, “When you got there!” Ouch… though I did burst out laughing.