I sit (in/on) houses
Friday evening marked the journey to Ikea. I had volunteered to drive, so of course my two housemates chose to get very drunk beforehand. The internets revealed that the New Haven, CT store was closer than the Long Island, NY store so there we went. It was a lot of back roads, including a drive over a sizeable dam with a large drop below. I enjoyed that, and am glad I saw it in the light, because upon our return you could barely tell that it was not just some bridge.
The store itself was pretty cool. We've confirmed the couch/loveseat combo that chebwa already had in mind. It's rather comfortable, and would do well in our house. I picked up a shelf for movies, games, etc. I didn't assemble it until Sunday night, and it was pretty cool. It actually fits behind my door, and had a little groove cut out of the base to accomodate any trimwork around the room, allowing a flush face for its back against the wall. That's foresight. Maybe I'll take a picture someday.
chebwa and Tim got lamps (one of this set was broken before the night ended). I can't find the one Tim got on the website, but it's like, just a big white sphere. No base or anything. Kinda' neat looking.
We also got some drinking glasses. Finally.
That night, the house got very drunk. Tim went to bed rather early to accomodate work at 7AM. Jason, Jamie and I watched assorted TiVo, including the two recent episodes of 30 Rock. I don't remember what else we watched, but it's not too important. What I do recall is eventually following Jamie with a large wooden bowl, as she kept threatening vomit.
For some reason she kept yelling into her phone right next to Tim's door, so Jason carried her to the couch, in the process swinging her foot into a stray glass on the endtable. It could only have been more hillarious if the cup contained confetti, because I could not control my laughter as I watched the cup tumble, do a full 360 flip, and land right in the box for the aforementioned lamp. We heard glass break, inspected, and saw that the cup, while in tact, had destroyed the top edge of the taller lamp. No worries, the smaller lamp was better looking, anyway.
Saturday began my housesitting for my parents. A little hungover, and with less sleep than I had intended, I spent much of the day on the couch watching various cable movies. Keeping the Faith and Blade II come to mind, as well as part of a Mythbusters marathon. Late that night, I caught a 10:07 train into NYC to meet up with everybody at some club for Rated-X. I arrived at Grand Central at 11:35, and got to the door of the club at 1:50AM. Yeah...
It all went well at first. I caught the S-train to Times Square with seconds to spare, made the 1-train rather quickly, too. I was all happy with myself until I realized that the 1 was traveling away from Greenwich. Shit. Unfamiliar with the intricacies of the NYC subway system, and without cellular reception, I stayed on the train until it looped back an hour later and took me to Houston St. It was not SO bad, since I had my book with me. At this time, it was about 12:50. I followed the directions given to me by HopStop. I thought it was a great website up until then. I walked all the way down Verick looking for 7th Ave, which did not happen. Ever. I ended up at Canal Street at the next subway station. Fuck.
I finally got directions to 7th Ave. Completely on the other side of Houston. THANKS A LOT, piece of crap website. If it were anywhere farther from Greenwich, being a lone white kid walking side streets in NYC at 1 AM might be a bad idea, but that really didn't bother me. I had, like, $30 cash, a metrocard worth $2, and a Fantasy Novel - needless to day, I was not the droid they were looking for.
At 1:45 AM I located Leroy Street. The corner of 7th ave housed three bars. Finding the correct one, I went to announce myself on the guestlist. Easily enough, chebwa was standing at the door talking old-school wrestling with the doorman. I joined the chat, and was welcomed by this dude for my knowledge and my love for Bret "The Hitman" Hart. Had it not been 2 AM, with myself tired, thirsty, and sweating from my trek literally around town, I would have talked more. I got my wrist stamped (with a classy blue "FUCK YOU" stamp), and made my way inside.
I found Tim half-passed out upstairs; they'd been drinking since 7. I was introduced the the upstairs bartenders, who proceeded to shower us with free drinks, some of which were fricking amazing. The night went on pretty well until we could not find Tim. He had walked outside and was not allowed back in. They said he was too drunk, and it took a little convincing on chebwa's behalf to get his access back.
Finally around 5, I had to get back to the train, declining the offer to stay in NYC at a friend's nearby apartment. My orders (from the sitting of house) were to feed the animals at 7:30 AM. AGAIN walking the wrong way to the subway, Tim and I flagged down a cab. The first driver kinda' said, "Grand Central? Yeah, fuck that." The second driver, however, welcomed us into his cab to listen to his French radio stations with him. We made the 5:40 AM train with time to spare.
All went well from that point on. I got home at like, 8:05, fed the animals, and went to bed. At 8:40, my parents came in the house. WHAT THE HELL?! I was kinda' irate about that, but there was little that I could do at this point other than sleep.
Sunday saw a little more housecleaning, shelf assembly, and viewing of The Prestige. Good movie, but I figured out one of the big reveals relatively early, which made the ending less impressive.
In summary, don't ride the Subway into the Bronx unless you're really bored and want to spend your night reading an additional 80 pages of a novel.
The store itself was pretty cool. We've confirmed the couch/loveseat combo that chebwa already had in mind. It's rather comfortable, and would do well in our house. I picked up a shelf for movies, games, etc. I didn't assemble it until Sunday night, and it was pretty cool. It actually fits behind my door, and had a little groove cut out of the base to accomodate any trimwork around the room, allowing a flush face for its back against the wall. That's foresight. Maybe I'll take a picture someday.
chebwa and Tim got lamps (one of this set was broken before the night ended). I can't find the one Tim got on the website, but it's like, just a big white sphere. No base or anything. Kinda' neat looking.
We also got some drinking glasses. Finally.
That night, the house got very drunk. Tim went to bed rather early to accomodate work at 7AM. Jason, Jamie and I watched assorted TiVo, including the two recent episodes of 30 Rock. I don't remember what else we watched, but it's not too important. What I do recall is eventually following Jamie with a large wooden bowl, as she kept threatening vomit.
For some reason she kept yelling into her phone right next to Tim's door, so Jason carried her to the couch, in the process swinging her foot into a stray glass on the endtable. It could only have been more hillarious if the cup contained confetti, because I could not control my laughter as I watched the cup tumble, do a full 360 flip, and land right in the box for the aforementioned lamp. We heard glass break, inspected, and saw that the cup, while in tact, had destroyed the top edge of the taller lamp. No worries, the smaller lamp was better looking, anyway.
Saturday began my housesitting for my parents. A little hungover, and with less sleep than I had intended, I spent much of the day on the couch watching various cable movies. Keeping the Faith and Blade II come to mind, as well as part of a Mythbusters marathon. Late that night, I caught a 10:07 train into NYC to meet up with everybody at some club for Rated-X. I arrived at Grand Central at 11:35, and got to the door of the club at 1:50AM. Yeah...
It all went well at first. I caught the S-train to Times Square with seconds to spare, made the 1-train rather quickly, too. I was all happy with myself until I realized that the 1 was traveling away from Greenwich. Shit. Unfamiliar with the intricacies of the NYC subway system, and without cellular reception, I stayed on the train until it looped back an hour later and took me to Houston St. It was not SO bad, since I had my book with me. At this time, it was about 12:50. I followed the directions given to me by HopStop. I thought it was a great website up until then. I walked all the way down Verick looking for 7th Ave, which did not happen. Ever. I ended up at Canal Street at the next subway station. Fuck.
I finally got directions to 7th Ave. Completely on the other side of Houston. THANKS A LOT, piece of crap website. If it were anywhere farther from Greenwich, being a lone white kid walking side streets in NYC at 1 AM might be a bad idea, but that really didn't bother me. I had, like, $30 cash, a metrocard worth $2, and a Fantasy Novel - needless to day, I was not the droid they were looking for.
At 1:45 AM I located Leroy Street. The corner of 7th ave housed three bars. Finding the correct one, I went to announce myself on the guestlist. Easily enough, chebwa was standing at the door talking old-school wrestling with the doorman. I joined the chat, and was welcomed by this dude for my knowledge and my love for Bret "The Hitman" Hart. Had it not been 2 AM, with myself tired, thirsty, and sweating from my trek literally around town, I would have talked more. I got my wrist stamped (with a classy blue "FUCK YOU" stamp), and made my way inside.
I found Tim half-passed out upstairs; they'd been drinking since 7. I was introduced the the upstairs bartenders, who proceeded to shower us with free drinks, some of which were fricking amazing. The night went on pretty well until we could not find Tim. He had walked outside and was not allowed back in. They said he was too drunk, and it took a little convincing on chebwa's behalf to get his access back.
Finally around 5, I had to get back to the train, declining the offer to stay in NYC at a friend's nearby apartment. My orders (from the sitting of house) were to feed the animals at 7:30 AM. AGAIN walking the wrong way to the subway, Tim and I flagged down a cab. The first driver kinda' said, "Grand Central? Yeah, fuck that." The second driver, however, welcomed us into his cab to listen to his French radio stations with him. We made the 5:40 AM train with time to spare.
All went well from that point on. I got home at like, 8:05, fed the animals, and went to bed. At 8:40, my parents came in the house. WHAT THE HELL?! I was kinda' irate about that, but there was little that I could do at this point other than sleep.
Sunday saw a little more housecleaning, shelf assembly, and viewing of The Prestige. Good movie, but I figured out one of the big reveals relatively early, which made the ending less impressive.
In summary, don't ride the Subway into the Bronx unless you're really bored and want to spend your night reading an additional 80 pages of a novel.