Fuck me yesterday was weird.

Met up with the great Gabi, who's come a few days to New York after being in some kind of corporate bootcamp turned drunk college fiesta up in Canada. Had a walk around Bedford and took some pictures, waiting for my new tat session.

A few days ago I saw a small tattoo parlour near  the apartment, and having been ridiculed by all the small girls with massive sleeve tattoo's that live in NY, I decided it's time to get the new one. I walked in and was greeted by a nice Polish girl (this is the Polish area of Greenpoint) who tells me the tattoo artist is in the back. I meet him, check out some of his work, and all seems good. He looks like an Americana devotee so it sorta seems right. I show him the design and he tells me he'll sketch it up and I can come in a few days. I pay my deposit and leave.

A few days pass and I return. I'm wearing my Fred Perry and a decent sized hangover. I walk in the shop and see two massive guys sitting down. One has the same shirt as me, which we both remark. They tell me the other guy can't do it, but they can help me out in a couple of days. I breathe and start to notice small details. Small details like the crudely tattooed 'SKIN' on the centre of my tattoo masters forehead. Or like the various Iron Crosses that adorn his arms and neck. Or the fucking 'SKREWDRIVER' cd that's playing. Great...I'm getting a tattoo from White Power Bill.

But alas, yesterday they fucking cancelled again. I call Andy 'Chiefmag' and he's hanging at the park with Alanna from the Ninjasonik video. I get my bike and ride down there. The sun is finally fleeing and the air is cool. We sit on the grass and Andy offers me a beer. With yesterday's aftertaste of tequila in my mouth I crak a can open and take a sip.

"Yo put it in the bag" Andy tells me.

True, no drinking in public here, put usually a paperbag is passable, and what the fuck, we're in the Park. Lovely Alanna gets up to go to the toilet, and Andy and I chat about random bullshit and most probably ladies. Then I feel a dark presence looming, and as I look up...Whoosh!  The first police bycicle circles us, then  the second. Balls.

The motherlovin' Po Lice.

"Whatcha got there boys?"

"Errrrmmm...beer Sir, is there a problem?"

"Get on the ground now! Hands where I can see them!!"

That last bit is fake.

But they did check up on us for a while, called a cop car, checked on us for another long while, tried to intimidate us, gave us a 25$ fine, and let us finish our beers. Baffling.

Yesterday was also myfriend Nicole's birthday. She was turning 28, so she obviously celebrated her birthday at Chuck E. Cheese, a fine establishment which caters for the entertainment needs of 4 to 12 year olds, providing them pizza and games where you win tickets, with which you get prizes worth less than the amount you paid for your tickets. In conclusion...ermmm not sure yet. Andy, Nicole and I all worked together in Italy so we spllit from the park and head toward Atlantic Ave. on our bikes. On the way there I saw death, once again, in the form of a Portorican in a blue sedan flying down a side street, and my 20$ stolen bike. But, once again, fuck you death!

We arrive at Chuck E Cheese and are approached by some 14 year old hoodlums. 

"Yo, you need to pay a fee to get past here"

"Fuck your life"

Quick and easy.

We enter this joint and it's all kids screams, running around, coloured fucking plastic balls, ping dings, and lit up machines. Andy also informs me they don't sell beer. Two employees at the entrance look us down, waiting for us to run away like the pedophiles we look like. 

"What can we do for you?"

Strong on our moral grounds of not going under 14 we tell tell them we are attending a party and I do a sort of wavy thing with the birthday card we picked up on the way.

Inside I feel like all this joy is bringing me more, quick, sugar filled death.  Good to see Nicole though, but baby, next time it's a BAR! I also bump into the hoodlum again, who continues to piss me off prompting more cursing from me and worried looks from parents. He informs me he's going to Fuck me Up (tm) outside, and at some other point asks me if I don't like him cause he's black. I tell him no, just cause he's an asshole. I love fighting 14 year olds, they are soft and maleable. Old ladies are pretty good for kicking too. 

We finally left and came back up to Bedford, where we met Alanna and Lin, two bubbly, drunk honeybabies. One drink turned into lots and it seems I'm marryin Lin sometime soon. You're all invited, open bar and nakedness assured.