Last Saturday, Joel flew out to New York to hang out with me and to enjoy the STONE STREET HISTORICAL DISTRICT OYSTER FESTIVAL that he's been hearing about for years. He had pawned his Nordic Track, refrigerator and his chimp servant's chimp-sized ATV to afford a plane ticket on such short notice. But he felt it was worth it to finally try the festival's famed FRESHLY SHUCKED OYSTERS and PERFECT PINTS OF GUINNESS. Joel had taken an extremely early flight to give him enough time to land, get his bearings, and cab it to the financial district by NOON, which was when THE FUN BEGINS.
And sure enough, he met me and my co-worker Barry between the two hosts of the event, ULYSSES' and HARRY'S. Crowds were starting to form already between STONE STREET AND MILL LANE– police had to cordon off the area to allow more foot traffic. Greta, a friendly woman in her forties, collected our $30, checked our ID's and gave us wrist bands. We thanked her, but she was too busy singing along to CHRIS BYRNE'S SEANCHAI & THE UNITY SQUAD, who were 10 minutes into their unique punk/funk Celtic hip-hop set.
Band website
A flip of a coin, and we three entered Harry's to start off with some CHAMPAGNE AND RIESLING. The main bar was too crowded, and no tables were available, so we huddled by the Golden Tee machine and toasted to the good life. A smelly dude with the teeth of a pirate was playing the game and seemed irked by where we were standing. Barry's elbow kept brushing against his, and it was affecting his drive. The dude intentionally spilled Barry's RIESLING.
The two eventually got into a shoving match while Joel ordered a round of HARP & SMITHWICK'S. Joel diffused the situation by eating the guy's dick, which gave Barry enough time to go outside and cool off. Barry was upset but also shocked at seeing Joel's knack for eating cock. I explained to him that Joel has changed a lot since Portfolio Center.
We went over to ULYSSES' to get our first dozen oysters and to check out MILO Z and LUNASA. They totally blew ass, so we decided to go back to HARRY'S and brave the hostility of the smelly dude. It was 1:30 by this time, and we hadn't eaten a single oyster yet. Only Joel was full (cock).
A harried waitress plopped platters of FRESHLY SHUCKED OYSTERS at the table we had finally snagged, and the feasting began. Joel spilled cocktail sauce all over his camo cargo shorts. Barry was on his third platter after 20 minutes.
Then the band started. In a predictable twist of plot, it was the smelly Golden Tee dude singing on stage! He turned out to be DAN DONNELLY, and he totally fucking sucked. Barry, Joel, and I booed all through his set, throwing oyster shells at his eyes and fingering his girlfriend (that wasn't me).
We drank and harangued and pissed ALL NIGHT. Barry lost his wallet in the women's toilet, and I found a lantern. Score!
Dan Donnelly's shitty website
7 comments:
busy body.
boom shaka laka.
Bizzy Bone.
who you calling a bone? bone-e-estoye? you heard it right. all this talk about commies and blight. oh baby. it's on. and it's off. it's all over the place. just like pamela anderson's face. up and down. round and robin. estoye is out of it but in it all the same. big man fast man bright man. yes mam! maam. how the heck you spell mam mamm? when z wedding? or do i already know. already! no!!!! yes sir E bob.
give a gal a rhythm. give a guy a hug. give a man some advertising. show that girl some love.
I don't like oyster shells being thrown at my eyes during shows. Not cool, guys.
a first. someone from OVER SEAS writes a comment. oh wow. now we're in da big leag. boo ya boyz.
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