One Love Will Feed the Fire
Apr. 16th, 2007 05:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amalthyaThere are certain constants in life. For example, women's bathrooms in strip clubs will always be immaculately clean and fresh-smelling.
You hope that these consistencies will balance out the inconsistencies. So that when you find yourself at 6 am on a Sunday in the 24-hour diner in the Taj Mahal, Atlantic City, eating corned beef hash and poached eggs out of a bowl, you can somehow rationalize that there was a perfectly logical way that you ended up there.
Saturday started off perfectly normally. I woke up somewhat early after a late night of Columbia Games Club to meet![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
astralina downtown for our bi-yearly haircuts at Deva Chan Salon. And, as always, I left incredibly pleased, since their specialty is curly-haired people.
As Rachel and I wandered through Soho, I was reminded of so many trips from our youths, until I recoiled in horror seeing the absence of Canal Jeans and its replacement: Bloomingdale's?!?!
There also seemed to be a lot of tourists on the streets who had come to New York to shop at Bloomingdale's: Soho and American Eagle Outfitters. Rachel and I reveled in our snooty New Yorker-isms and laughed at their Mom Jeans™. I headed uptown to get ready for my Of Montreal concert, and Rachel prepared for the Building Manager's Ball.
As I headed downtown I realized that it would take me 1.5 hours on the L train to get to my concert venue, and I became sad that I was going alone. Additionally, considering my Saturday night schedule, it seemed inordinately far away. So... I didn't go to the concert.
Instead, I helpedhotstudboi427 (Fred) set up his new beautiful television and flopped exhaustedly on his sofa. hmasturbator 's birthday party was at Lucky Cheng's , within walking distance of Fred's new place, so he decided to come with and we walked down around 9. The party was mostly finished, though we did get to see the cake and I knew my haircut was good since the drag queens seemed to love it.
People piled out into the street and walked/moseyed over to another bar about 10 blocks away. It became the amusement of the night after I spotted Susan Sarandon's Daughter. We managed to get her to kiss Tim for his birthday, and her friends tried valiantly to get me to check out their band's MySpace page.
The bar was getting full and there seemed to be a dearth of seating. Standing outside with Nick K and Tim, somewhat antsy and bored, Nick suggested that we go to Atlantic City. And for some insane, madcap reason, it seemed like a good idea.
I went inside to ensnareinfd and Danielle X, the former of whom definitely teetered on the fence of "yes" before saying "no" and the latter of whom is as keen for adventure as I am. So, we paid our tab, said our goodbyes, and waked over to Nick's car.
And suddenly, we're driving towards the Holland Tunnel. We're all (with the exception of Nick) still mostly drunk, and laden with Tim's ridiculous 30th Birthday gifts.
Which included:
It was, after all, midnight when we decided to go.
As we're pulling into the line for the Holland Tunnel, we haven't yet gotten past the stage of going "Atlantic fucking City.. WOOO." Things are still madcap and adrenaline-filled and Tim is opening his containers of lube and putting them in Nick (the driver's hands) and suddenly rolls down his window and squirts lube towards a car to the right of us. It arches elegantly, illuminated by the headlights of traffic, and hits the car square on the hood. The driver's window is open too and I'm not quite sure that they didn't get the spray.
We attempt to pull away in a feverish manner, but of course we're in Holland Tunnel traffic. I swear, this is how horror movies begin.
Thankfully, I don't think they knew it was lube. They probably presumed it was water.
In our own car, however, we were quite aware it was lube because it was everywhere. All over the steering wheel, and our driver's hands, and Danielle's hands and iewe. In the back seat, we busted open the package of Depends and started cleaning the car with them.
Diapers Used Count: 1
What's funny about a spontaneous plan like this one (in addition to having a car full of sticky lube) is that during the 2+ hour drive out to Atlantic City, you have to actually keep that manic energy up. Of course, SoJo is sort of dead, it was pouring rain and there was NOTHING on the radio.
We told funny stories, and talked about who knows what. And then there was another hour left, and it was past 1 am and we were insane.
So, we put a diaper on the sheep.
Diapers Used Count: 2
Then we took photos of it. The sheep had acquired a Ronald Reagan face from Susan Sarandon's Daughter's Friends' Band's Peeps. Because Tim is a veterinarian, and was oft-photographed with his hands in places you're imagining but I won't say, this was a special sheep. And if it wasn't grotesque, I'd also make a count of the number of times the phrase "Ronald Reagan Rimjob" was uttered in our car.
We stopped in a rest stop about 3/4ths of the way there, and I still wasn't sure that we'd make it. But, we peed and continued on our way. I think at a point everyone was asleep. Aside from Nick that is. Tim took horrible photos of Danielle and me sleeping on the sheep. Oh, and I also tried to get in touch withnocturne2615 , who I know often deals in AC, but alas, he was AFL (away from Life [and Phone])
But at around 3:15 am, we had indeed arrived in Atlantic City. Oh, the big bright shining lights. And Donald Trump's face. Everywhere. More widespread even than Danny Gans.
We started at the Taj Mahal. You'd never imagine that it was 3 am. There is no time in a casino. There is only money, or the lack thereof. Everything shines and sparkles and is made of neon and boobies.
We started at blackjack, I think. Tim fronted me some money, and while Nick went out early and Danielle started drinking early, I was actually up about $70. We played slots too, and managed to win $0.75. Hot.
When you haven't really slept and you're in Atlantic City, things seem like sort of a blur. And it's a blur that glitters. The Taj has the sort of "subtle" elegance that whacks you across the face with a bat made from Swarovski crystals. And when it suddenly became 5 am, we were hungry and tired and wondering what in the world we'd gotten ourselves into.
Hunger came first, and we found The Bombay Café, a 24-hour Taj diner. Despite it being nearly 6 am, the breakfast buffet was not yet open. So, we ate breakfast anyway. The chandelier over the café was blinding, and I wondered whether it was possible to add any more flair to it. When hotels in Uganda are looking understated by comparison, you know you're in a one-stop Tacky Shop.
Unfortunately, the food wasn't up to the standards of the decor. Nick's blueberry pancakes were probably grown on the same brownberry tree as Danielle's mutant orange slice. My eggs came in a bowl, and they'd neglected to bring me my meat. We talked about finding a hotel to sleep in, sleep being impending regardless of food. We'd seen a sign for a hotel with a jacuzzi in every room, and I was gunning for it.
Nick and Tim thought perhaps we should have hit Babe'sGirls, Girls, Girls [most of the neon in the sign was dysfunctional] and eaten at their breakfast/dinner buffet. I, however, wasn't too keen on any buffet served at a strip club, and decided that there were things I'd much prefer to getting chlamydia from the home fries. Which got everyone laughing in that way you can only laugh because it's 5 am and you're incredibly punchy and some sort of wiring has disconnected in your brain. While Nick texted home-fry-chlamydia to people, Danielle made some joke about the hot tub while I drank water out of a bottle decorated with Donald Trump's ugly face in front of a volcano, and I ended up sporfling water all over the table and myself. Now with a wet lap, a pocket full of $5 chips, and a stomach full of Bowl-Eggs, sleep was required.
We figured we could get a room at the Taj, but they didn't have any pay rooms available. There were comps rooms available, but we didn't have enough points yet and they wouldn't let us pay for comp rooms.
So, into the car we went and drove around looking for a hotel with a bed. Maybe 2. We found one very dodgy looking hotel and they offered us a single [double] bed for $70. Did I mention that AC is expensive?
I was wet, and wasn't really sure that spooning 4 to a bed was the solution.
So, we kept driving when we found the HoJo's of SoJo. Howard Johnson's was willing to give us a room with two double beds for double the price, and were less-than-happy when Tim lied to them about the number of occupants in the room. Because of their strict NO UNANNOUNCED VISITORS policy.
Wondering how many men would really register their prostitutes at the front desk of HoJo's, I felt more secure about the presence of crabs in the sheets/mattress and actually slept under the covers. The front desk guy did spite us, and when he discovered that Tim had 2 extra guests, he took Tim's key and put us in another room. Which was, "accidentally" at the end of a long open hallway full of rain.
It didn't matter, we flopped and slept and woke up around noon after a solid 5 hours of sleeping. Having been inside most of the evening, we missed the bulk of the Nor'Easter that was coming through, but once we woke up, wow, it was WET. Everyone aside from me took a shower and laughed at the presence of conditioner but no shampoo. And I stole a box of tissues from the bathroom. We wandered down to the hotel restaurant and ate a second breakfast, hobbit-style before deciding that we'd hit Babe's Girls and then another casino, and then home.
Of course, it was Sunday at 1 pm and stripclubs are (and should be) closed. We didn't know that when we got into the car, and were hit with a barrage of disgusting wet fog. The back window of the car was hopelessly misted, so I busted out another diaper and cleaned it off. I've gotta say, I've seen the inside of some gross diapers, but one covered in the black dirty soot of Car Grime was really very bad.
Diapers Used Count: 3
So, we went to the Bally's WILD WILD WEST CASINO, which smelled suspiciously of mildew. It had stopped raining temporarily and we took a walk on the boardwalk. The AC boardwalk is stunning and perhaps I just love boardwalks in general. The surf was tempestuous and the wild whipped us around too. I bought a $6 sweatshirt to keep myself warm. Since, after all, I was wearing the same dress I'd been wearing on Saturday morning when it was dry and sunny.
I also bought some souvenirs, like the Titty Tray for Tim's smoking. (Yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. A boob you ash in).
Danielle bought salt water taffy too and we kept playing games in Caesar's Palace. I didn't fare as well, and we actually went and sat down for some $1-2 Texas Hold'Em. I played incredibly tight and went all in with second-top pair on the flop (10s). Of course, I ended up heads up against Tim, who rivered a flush. He'd "bluffed" me with a Q-3 suited. Jackass ;)
We did play The Pink Panther slot machine, and got ALL PINK PANTHERS. Wild and ecstatic, Tim and I were screaming and dancing, thinking we'd somehow won the biggest pot ever. The Pink Panther's heads were flashing pink (of course) and it took us a good minute to realize that it just meant we were getting some tiny bonus, which ended up being 50 credits ($12.50). I cashed out gratefully, up $10. We'd been down to our last 3 spins, so Tim and I decided just to go all in and were glad for it.
Around 5 pm, we'd had enough although it was nearly impossible to pull Nick & Tim away from the blackjack table. Despite being exhausted and hungry again, Tim was determined to have Birthday Girlies and promised us food at a strip club. Sans home fries, of course.
Babe's Girls was closed, but Go-Go-Go was open. We went in, and it was completely empty, but they actually offered food. So we ate and drank and watched the bartender girl wander around and drop trou. Tim needed a birthday lapdance, so we finished eating and then Nick had his go.
The strippers were all just playing trivia and bumming around at the bar, and the stage was empty, and the bar was empty. I was feeling emboldenedby Yuengling and asked one of the girls if she'd teach me how to spin around the pole. So, I got on stage in my 2-day old stink dress and had a hoot of a time. Tim came over and gave me my First Stripper Dollar™ which he later wrote all over and insisted I keep for all time.
Finally around 7 pm, we got back on the road towards home. No one slept on the way back, but we did listen to some truly awful radio stations. Including a song that I can't find anywhere online but had the line "One love to fuel/feed the fire" over and over again. If anyone knows it, feel free to tell me. Google holds no answers for me.
It was absolutely DISMAL weather - it rained so much that Nick and Tim couldn't smoke in the car without getting doused with water. I felt bad for Nick too, who'd done all of the driving without reprieve. We finally made it back into the city around midnight. I'd missed Dresden Files entirely. Butxoder and shoujo_mallet gave me clean dry clothes and hot cocoa. Yummy!
I'm still feeling totally ragged. Despite waking up initially before 8, I fell back into a deep sleep until nearly 2. I'm not sure what our wild impulsive AC trip signified as a benchmark for Tim's 30th birthday, other than perhaps we are nearly Too Old For This Shit. I've gotta say, though, one of the best stories ever, and definitely one of the most exciting weekends I've had in a long time. I've got a pink chip, a stripper dollar, a Very Ugly Sweatshirt, and not a regret in the world.
I mean, after all, we've got 15 diapers left to use. It just prompts a return trip. hehe.
Atlantic Fucking City -- Wooo!
You hope that these consistencies will balance out the inconsistencies. So that when you find yourself at 6 am on a Sunday in the 24-hour diner in the Taj Mahal, Atlantic City, eating corned beef hash and poached eggs out of a bowl, you can somehow rationalize that there was a perfectly logical way that you ended up there.
Saturday started off perfectly normally. I woke up somewhat early after a late night of Columbia Games Club to meet
astralina downtown for our bi-yearly haircuts at Deva Chan Salon. And, as always, I left incredibly pleased, since their specialty is curly-haired people. As Rachel and I wandered through Soho, I was reminded of so many trips from our youths, until I recoiled in horror seeing the absence of Canal Jeans and its replacement: Bloomingdale's?!?!
There also seemed to be a lot of tourists on the streets who had come to New York to shop at Bloomingdale's: Soho and American Eagle Outfitters. Rachel and I reveled in our snooty New Yorker-isms and laughed at their Mom Jeans™. I headed uptown to get ready for my Of Montreal concert, and Rachel prepared for the Building Manager's Ball.
As I headed downtown I realized that it would take me 1.5 hours on the L train to get to my concert venue, and I became sad that I was going alone. Additionally, considering my Saturday night schedule, it seemed inordinately far away. So... I didn't go to the concert.
Instead, I helped
hotstudboi427 (Fred) set up his new beautiful television and flopped exhaustedly on his sofa. hmasturbator 's birthday party was at Lucky Cheng's , within walking distance of Fred's new place, so he decided to come with and we walked down around 9. The party was mostly finished, though we did get to see the cake and I knew my haircut was good since the drag queens seemed to love it.People piled out into the street and walked/moseyed over to another bar about 10 blocks away. It became the amusement of the night after I spotted Susan Sarandon's Daughter. We managed to get her to kiss Tim for his birthday, and her friends tried valiantly to get me to check out their band's MySpace page.
The bar was getting full and there seemed to be a dearth of seating. Standing outside with Nick K and Tim, somewhat antsy and bored, Nick suggested that we go to Atlantic City. And for some insane, madcap reason, it seemed like a good idea.
I went inside to ensnare
infd and Danielle X, the former of whom definitely teetered on the fence of "yes" before saying "no" and the latter of whom is as keen for adventure as I am. So, we paid our tab, said our goodbyes, and waked over to Nick's car. And suddenly, we're driving towards the Holland Tunnel. We're all (with the exception of Nick) still mostly drunk, and laden with Tim's ridiculous 30th Birthday gifts.
Which included:
- A sheep for sexing
- A package of Adult Depends diapers
- Tiny containers of sexual lubricant
It was, after all, midnight when we decided to go.
As we're pulling into the line for the Holland Tunnel, we haven't yet gotten past the stage of going "Atlantic fucking City.. WOOO." Things are still madcap and adrenaline-filled and Tim is opening his containers of lube and putting them in Nick (the driver's hands) and suddenly rolls down his window and squirts lube towards a car to the right of us. It arches elegantly, illuminated by the headlights of traffic, and hits the car square on the hood. The driver's window is open too and I'm not quite sure that they didn't get the spray.
We attempt to pull away in a feverish manner, but of course we're in Holland Tunnel traffic. I swear, this is how horror movies begin.
Thankfully, I don't think they knew it was lube. They probably presumed it was water.
In our own car, however, we were quite aware it was lube because it was everywhere. All over the steering wheel, and our driver's hands, and Danielle's hands and iewe. In the back seat, we busted open the package of Depends and started cleaning the car with them.
Diapers Used Count: 1
"I'm not sure what's worse... that your steering whee is covered in lube, or that you're using an adult diaper to clean it off."
What's funny about a spontaneous plan like this one (in addition to having a car full of sticky lube) is that during the 2+ hour drive out to Atlantic City, you have to actually keep that manic energy up. Of course, SoJo is sort of dead, it was pouring rain and there was NOTHING on the radio.
We told funny stories, and talked about who knows what. And then there was another hour left, and it was past 1 am and we were insane.
So, we put a diaper on the sheep.
Diapers Used Count: 2
Then we took photos of it. The sheep had acquired a Ronald Reagan face from Susan Sarandon's Daughter's Friends' Band's Peeps. Because Tim is a veterinarian, and was oft-photographed with his hands in places you're imagining but I won't say, this was a special sheep. And if it wasn't grotesque, I'd also make a count of the number of times the phrase "Ronald Reagan Rimjob" was uttered in our car.
We stopped in a rest stop about 3/4ths of the way there, and I still wasn't sure that we'd make it. But, we peed and continued on our way. I think at a point everyone was asleep. Aside from Nick that is. Tim took horrible photos of Danielle and me sleeping on the sheep. Oh, and I also tried to get in touch with
nocturne2615 , who I know often deals in AC, but alas, he was AFL (away from Life [and Phone]) But at around 3:15 am, we had indeed arrived in Atlantic City. Oh, the big bright shining lights. And Donald Trump's face. Everywhere. More widespread even than Danny Gans.
We started at the Taj Mahal. You'd never imagine that it was 3 am. There is no time in a casino. There is only money, or the lack thereof. Everything shines and sparkles and is made of neon and boobies.
We started at blackjack, I think. Tim fronted me some money, and while Nick went out early and Danielle started drinking early, I was actually up about $70. We played slots too, and managed to win $0.75. Hot.
When you haven't really slept and you're in Atlantic City, things seem like sort of a blur. And it's a blur that glitters. The Taj has the sort of "subtle" elegance that whacks you across the face with a bat made from Swarovski crystals. And when it suddenly became 5 am, we were hungry and tired and wondering what in the world we'd gotten ourselves into.
Hunger came first, and we found The Bombay Café, a 24-hour Taj diner. Despite it being nearly 6 am, the breakfast buffet was not yet open. So, we ate breakfast anyway. The chandelier over the café was blinding, and I wondered whether it was possible to add any more flair to it. When hotels in Uganda are looking understated by comparison, you know you're in a one-stop Tacky Shop.
Unfortunately, the food wasn't up to the standards of the decor. Nick's blueberry pancakes were probably grown on the same brownberry tree as Danielle's mutant orange slice. My eggs came in a bowl, and they'd neglected to bring me my meat. We talked about finding a hotel to sleep in, sleep being impending regardless of food. We'd seen a sign for a hotel with a jacuzzi in every room, and I was gunning for it.
Nick and Tim thought perhaps we should have hit Babe's
We figured we could get a room at the Taj, but they didn't have any pay rooms available. There were comps rooms available, but we didn't have enough points yet and they wouldn't let us pay for comp rooms.
So, into the car we went and drove around looking for a hotel with a bed. Maybe 2. We found one very dodgy looking hotel and they offered us a single [double] bed for $70. Did I mention that AC is expensive?
I was wet, and wasn't really sure that spooning 4 to a bed was the solution.
So, we kept driving when we found the HoJo's of SoJo. Howard Johnson's was willing to give us a room with two double beds for double the price, and were less-than-happy when Tim lied to them about the number of occupants in the room. Because of their strict NO UNANNOUNCED VISITORS policy.
Wondering how many men would really register their prostitutes at the front desk of HoJo's, I felt more secure about the presence of crabs in the sheets/mattress and actually slept under the covers. The front desk guy did spite us, and when he discovered that Tim had 2 extra guests, he took Tim's key and put us in another room. Which was, "accidentally" at the end of a long open hallway full of rain.
It didn't matter, we flopped and slept and woke up around noon after a solid 5 hours of sleeping. Having been inside most of the evening, we missed the bulk of the Nor'Easter that was coming through, but once we woke up, wow, it was WET. Everyone aside from me took a shower and laughed at the presence of conditioner but no shampoo. And I stole a box of tissues from the bathroom. We wandered down to the hotel restaurant and ate a second breakfast, hobbit-style before deciding that we'd hit Babe's Girls and then another casino, and then home.
Of course, it was Sunday at 1 pm and stripclubs are (and should be) closed. We didn't know that when we got into the car, and were hit with a barrage of disgusting wet fog. The back window of the car was hopelessly misted, so I busted out another diaper and cleaned it off. I've gotta say, I've seen the inside of some gross diapers, but one covered in the black dirty soot of Car Grime was really very bad.
Diapers Used Count: 3
So, we went to the Bally's WILD WILD WEST CASINO, which smelled suspiciously of mildew. It had stopped raining temporarily and we took a walk on the boardwalk. The AC boardwalk is stunning and perhaps I just love boardwalks in general. The surf was tempestuous and the wild whipped us around too. I bought a $6 sweatshirt to keep myself warm. Since, after all, I was wearing the same dress I'd been wearing on Saturday morning when it was dry and sunny.
I also bought some souvenirs, like the Titty Tray for Tim's smoking. (Yes, it's exactly what it sounds like. A boob you ash in).
Danielle bought salt water taffy too and we kept playing games in Caesar's Palace. I didn't fare as well, and we actually went and sat down for some $1-2 Texas Hold'Em. I played incredibly tight and went all in with second-top pair on the flop (10s). Of course, I ended up heads up against Tim, who rivered a flush. He'd "bluffed" me with a Q-3 suited. Jackass ;)
We did play The Pink Panther slot machine, and got ALL PINK PANTHERS. Wild and ecstatic, Tim and I were screaming and dancing, thinking we'd somehow won the biggest pot ever. The Pink Panther's heads were flashing pink (of course) and it took us a good minute to realize that it just meant we were getting some tiny bonus, which ended up being 50 credits ($12.50). I cashed out gratefully, up $10. We'd been down to our last 3 spins, so Tim and I decided just to go all in and were glad for it.
Around 5 pm, we'd had enough although it was nearly impossible to pull Nick & Tim away from the blackjack table. Despite being exhausted and hungry again, Tim was determined to have Birthday Girlies and promised us food at a strip club. Sans home fries, of course.
Babe's Girls was closed, but Go-Go-Go was open. We went in, and it was completely empty, but they actually offered food. So we ate and drank and watched the bartender girl wander around and drop trou. Tim needed a birthday lapdance, so we finished eating and then Nick had his go.
The strippers were all just playing trivia and bumming around at the bar, and the stage was empty, and the bar was empty. I was feeling emboldened
Finally around 7 pm, we got back on the road towards home. No one slept on the way back, but we did listen to some truly awful radio stations. Including a song that I can't find anywhere online but had the line "One love to fuel/feed the fire" over and over again. If anyone knows it, feel free to tell me. Google holds no answers for me.
It was absolutely DISMAL weather - it rained so much that Nick and Tim couldn't smoke in the car without getting doused with water. I felt bad for Nick too, who'd done all of the driving without reprieve. We finally made it back into the city around midnight. I'd missed Dresden Files entirely. But
xoder and shoujo_mallet gave me clean dry clothes and hot cocoa. Yummy! I'm still feeling totally ragged. Despite waking up initially before 8, I fell back into a deep sleep until nearly 2. I'm not sure what our wild impulsive AC trip signified as a benchmark for Tim's 30th birthday, other than perhaps we are nearly Too Old For This Shit. I've gotta say, though, one of the best stories ever, and definitely one of the most exciting weekends I've had in a long time. I've got a pink chip, a stripper dollar, a Very Ugly Sweatshirt, and not a regret in the world.
I mean, after all, we've got 15 diapers left to use. It just prompts a return trip. hehe.
Atlantic Fucking City -- Wooo!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 09:49 pm (UTC)I love your entries...and all the links = fun on teh Intrawebz.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-17 04:44 pm (UTC)I will hereafter patrol your ass for Mom Jeans. You'll just have to ask yourself every morning
"Is it long? Is it flat? If so, change!"
no subject
Date: 2007-04-17 09:44 pm (UTC)But what if my ass is flat naturally? I don't do long, but sometimes I can't help the flat.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-16 10:56 pm (UTC)Wow. So much freaking fun it sounds like you guys had.
WHOO!!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-17 04:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-17 03:32 pm (UTC)Excellent weekend!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-17 04:45 pm (UTC)Err, no, scratch that. Some things are better in smaller quantities.