Don't get drunk at a party full of people you don't know...

The following blog recreates the events from a recent outing by a group of twenty and thirty somethings. Names will not be included to protect the stupid, *cough* I mean, victims.

These are their stories:


**LAW & ORDER SOUND EFFECT**


The culprit (from victim's account). Identity not yet confirmed:


Beer from parts unknown. Possibly spiked.

Known accomplices:


Wakatake Sake, from Japan.


Kirin Beer, also from Japan.


Saturday after a long day of work, a group of us went to a very cool Japanese restaurant named Kenka in the Astor Place neighborhood of Manhattan. My brother took me to this spot a couple of months ago, and I've been hooked ever since. If I don't have anything planned on a Saturday night, I usually end up there with my bro and the crew.

We arrived about 8:15 PM, waiting for everybody else. They showed up, and we were shown to our table around 9:00 PM. It's well worth the wait. We sat down and the waiter, Kim Chee (a Korean fellow, not the manager of pro-wrestler, Kamala The Ugandan Headhunter) sat us down. The first thing we ordered was Wakatake. It's a very smooth and highly potent sake that's the choice of the Yakuza in Japan. We always ask the person who serves us if they would like to have a drink as well. Nobody has yet to pass (I guess that's why they like us so much).

We go the family style route; order a bunch of different dishes and pass it around. Pitchers of Kirin Beer (another fine Japanese beverage) are being brought throughout the meal with Kim Chee downing his pint like a champ before going to his next table. This guy would make frat boys proud. Who knew frat boys would be actually involved later in the night.

While eating, somebody brought up that there is a party going on in SoHo and that we're invited to go after dinner. It's one of those "friend of a friend of a friend" kind of things that I'm usually not a fan of. I like to go to a party that I know a decent amount of people.

We asked for the bill, and a slightly buzzed Kim Chee brought it to us a few minutes later. We hooked him up with a big tip, and he thanked us graciously for it. He asked for our names for next time we come over. Here's the conversation I had with him:

Me: "I'm E.J. nice to meet you."

Kim Chee: "Thank you very much, "E-Chay" "

Me: "No, problem bro. You look like you liked the drinks as well."

Kim Chee: "Do you know the hip hop?"

Me: "Oh yeah, I do."

Kim Chee: "You lookie like the Big Punisher..."

Oh, how everybody got a kick outta that one. I'm not gonna lie, I thought it was funny as hell too. With that said, my ass really has to get familiar with the inside of a gym.

We're outside, feeling what the young and hip urban kids like to call, "nice." The party was brought up again. My brother and myself weren't really feeling the idea, so we went to his apartment in Brooklyn while the other four went to the party.

We got to Brooklyn and I crashed right away, which is a rarity for me. I'm almost never in bed before 2AM on any given day, whether I'm drinking or not. I wake up the next morning and my brother's roommate has yet to come back. My bro felt that something odd must have happened, since they call each other if they're coming home late. I fell asleep again, and I didn't get up until about 1:30 PM. The roommate finally came back...except with a few less possessions.

The victim returned to the apartment barefoot, in a t-shirt, and boxers. He woke up in an elevator in Chinatown in that very state of dress. With nothing else on him, homeboy trekked from Chinatown to Brooklyn on a sunny Sunday afternoon. The trip included a nice walk over the Brooklyn Bridge with the New York City skyline looking down at him like the ass that he is.

So what was he left without? Here we go...

Wallet
Keys
Cash
iPod
Jeans
Socks
Sneakers
Hat
Bicycle


We asked him what the hell did he have at the party, and what type of party was it. He said that all he had was beer and that it was a fraternity party. The other three people he went along with took off way before he did. He wanted to stay and continue drinking with an apartment full of people he didn't know.

Carlito Brigante in "Carito's Way" said it best...

"Dumb move, man. Dumb move."

A few calls were made after he slept it off, and found out that all of his stuff was being stored at the apartment where the party was! It was said that he was in such of a drunken stupor, so for his "safety," his things were put away. Excuse me for my harsh language, but I have to call Bravo Sierra on this one. With my five semesters of college experience, I smell a prank, especially if a fraternity is involved. If he was in such a bad sate, why not keep him there? Let him sober off, and send him on his merry way. After hearing their story, he actually BELIEVED them!

I was heading back to Sleepy Hollow, so we hopped on the Q train back to Manhattan. He got off on Canal Street back to Chinatown while I continued my trip to Grand Central Terminal so I can go home. When I arrived, I called to see if he got back to Brooklyn safe and sound. He did, with all of his possessions in tact. If there was one good thing to come out of this adventure of his, I'd say this...

At least his asshole wasn't sore when he woke up.


***Random funny pic***

I'm kinda feeling T-Pain, and I should be beaten for it

Yes. It's true. I hate to admit it, but when I hear it on my XM or play it at a gig, I find myself nodding my head to the beat and on some occasions *gasp* singing along. This is wrong at so many levels, I really don't know where the hell to begin.

I first heard about this "Rappa Ternt Sanga" (you see what he did there...he changed the spelling because it was the dope, fresh, chill thing to do) in February of 2006 when I was driving down the Las Vegas Strip to my hotel on the way back from a clothing buyers convention.

"I'm In Love With a Stripper" was the song that was playing. If you have never heard the song, I'm pretty sure you can find the video on YouTube or something like that. I heard the hook and thought, "Alright, it's something different, and Lord knows my affection for Bambi at Lace Gentlemen's Club in Nanuet."

Sorry...that's a different blog for a different day.

When the next verse came up, I realize that he's the only one on the song. His "voice" has a very robotic, twangy sound. It's a cheap knockoff of Roger Troutman, the guy that sings the hook to 2Pac & Dr. Dre's "California Love." You can tell that the voice has been over processed in the studio like Paris Hilton's atrocious attempt at recording an album (I promise that, this will be the only time I will EVER refer to that hose-bag in any of my blogs). If he started to sing because he stopped rapping, I'd hate to hear this guy spit lyrics. Actually, I would just for the cringe factor. Who knows? Maybe he has the skills of a Rakim or Big Daddy Kane. Then again, he may have the flow of Deion Sanders.

After a little research, I found out that he was signed by Akon (birds of a feather...you know the rest) after hearing a remix of "Locked Up" with "I'm Fucked Up" (creative, ain't it?) He indeed does write his lyrics. Here's an excerpt from a gem that's out right now, "Bartender"


[An excerpt of Verse 1]
Broke up with my girl last night so I went to the club (so I went to the club)
Put on a fresh white suit in a Mini coupe sitting on dubs (sitting on dubs)
I'm just looking for somebody to talk to and show me some love (show me some love)
If you know what I mean... Uh-Huh...

[Hook 1]
Oooo she made us drinks, to drink
We drunk 'em, (Got drunk)
And then I think she thinks I'm cool
She gave me a wink, I winked back
And then I think that, we headed out something proper like...

[Chorus]
I like the bartender
(Oooo If you're lookin' for me)
I'm at the bar with her
(Uh-huh, Ok)
I like the bartender
(Yeah if you're lookin' for me)
I'm at the bar with her
(Oooooh Uh-huh, Ok)


Deep, isn't it? I'm calling Deion Sanders on this one. Allow me to break it down...

[Verse 1]
"Broke up with my girl last night so I went to the club (so I went to the club)"

Well, he got over that chick quickly. I take at least two days to get over a girl.


"Put on a fresh white suit in a Mini coupe sitting on dubs (sitting on dubs)"

Who the hell puts big ass rims on a Mini?! Most rims these days are so big, it might be taller than the Mini itself. Maybe this hip hop thing is passing me by, but this sounds a little too hood rich for me

"I'm just looking for somebody to talk to and show me some love (show me some love)

If you know what I mean... Uh-Huh..."

Looks like Mr. Pain wants to get a lil' saucy, but leaves it up to our imagination on what he wants to do. I'm guessing The Samoan Piledriver.


[Hook 1]
"She made us drinks, to drink"

This bartender must be a special gal, since the drinks she made were for him to drink. I usually prefer to snort my Grey Goose.

"We drunk 'em (got drunk)"

Of course he drank them. What hip hop act doesn't drink booze in their songs? The last song I heard any mention of a designated driver was Montell Jordan's "This Is How We Do It." Let's not forget the usage of past tense and past participles of the word "drink." Mr. Allen, my ninth grade English teacher would be proud.

I'll spare you the rest

If he's going to survive in "the game," he should stick to singing hooks and choruses, written by somebody else of course. I didn't mind him on "U & Dat Booty" from E-40. This would the best way to utilize his "talent." He's a modern day Nate Dogg, if you will. Sure, you'll sing along with him on Warren G's "Regulate," but are you the owner of his CD catalog?

Now, with all of this, I have no damn clue why when his current songs are played in a club, the crowd (myself included) is rockin' to it. If the song were to be playing right now, my dumb ass would be bobbing my head, singing just as off key as T-Pain is. Is it because people are accustomed to the simple lyrics in "hip-pop" today? Since the mid-nineties, the "playa movement" has dumbed down the music I love. It's made me go more towards House music these days for the more soulful lyrics and vibe. Don't get me wrong, there is some really good, intelligent hip hop out there, but I don't think the fellas are going to be grinding to Dilated People's "Spit It Clearly" with some chick on dance floor.

Until then, I'm gonna pull up on a shawty and sing "Buy You a Drank" to her. Maybe I can get in on some of that Samoan Piledriver action.

What makes you think I know better?

That's an easy question...

I don't.

I just wanted to find a way to express my feelings about things that are going on today. It'll mostly be about music, sports, and what ever else is going through my mind. I'm not the political type, but I may drop something once in a while if I think it's important.

Just who the hell am I?

I'm E.J. from Sleepy Hollow, a New York City suburb.

I'm in the family business; I work in the Bronx with my pop and bro. We have two clothing stores. It's geared to older gentlemen (sexy, isn't it? **blech**).

I'm a party/club promoter and part time DJ for the extra cash and for fun.

I love hip hop, house music, neo-soul, and anything with heavy percussion like samba, afro-cuban and all that good stuff.

HUGE Yankee fan, but not one of those douche bags that always say, "Twenty-six championships! How many do you have?" I'm an intelligent baseball fan who knows that they're up shit's creek this season, and the only thing they have got going for them is the Wild Card (maybe.)

I love the Kansas City Chiefs. I've been a fan since the Christian Okoye days and always will be. I do hate Herman Edwards as the coach. I had to deal with his crap when he was with the Jets. Great motivational speaker, crappy game manager.

I listen to the Opie & Anthony Show and Ron & Fez Show on XM. Check them out. Don't bother if you're easily offended.

I also love the WWE and UFC. I like scripted and non-fictional violence.

That's it for now, because Monday Night Raw is about to start. I'll have something up very soon.


Next Blog:
I'm kinda feeling T-Pain and I should be beaten for it...