SUSHISAMBA, please adopt me

So…Saturday in New York. What to wear and what to do.

Wear whatever the hell you want. But if you’re in New York make sure it’s like stylish and organic. And Vegan. And there is a word Converse somewhere in your outfit. I’m pretty sure those are prerequisites of the city life. I didn’t make them.

Take a walking tour of the Brooklyn Bridge. Because it’s free, beautiful, and can easily qualify as a form of exercise that will make you feel less guilty about eating a cheesy hot dog afterwards. But seriously who doesn’t want this in their Instagram feed?

Am I right or am I right?
Am I right or am I right?

Also, if you’re a couple, make sure to grab a pair of earphones. Because you will need to tie them to the bridge as a proclamation of your eternal love. Because I’m pretty sure that’s how love works too. You might want to grab a pair of old, nonfunctioning ones because you’re obviously not going to be using those anymore. Or if you’re fancy, and rich buy a pair of brand new ones. Extra points if they’re a fleshy bright color.

These earbuds represent my love to you. Said no one ever.


Once you make it across the bridge, you automatically find yourself in Manhattan. Because that’s just geography. Reward yourself, and stop by at the Jeremy’s Ale House and eat that cheese hot dog. While staring at the bra stapled roof.

Talk about questionable décor.
Talk about questionable décor.

Then decide to walk 45 minutes to the West Village. Regret it about half way through. Throw a mild tantrum, have an espresso at Ground Support Cafe, then a beer at Fat Black Pussycat. Purely to confuse your body. And then decide to listen to some live jazz. Because same as stylish, and converse, you’re supposed to want to listen to live jazz in New York. Even though you could care less about jazz otherwise. Or might even go as far as to hate jazz in real life. Because it seriously sounds like some elaborate instrumental noise put together. You still need to want to listen to jazz. You get the idea.

And then see a celebrity, or two. Which I totally did. I saw Sarah Silverman, and Louis C.K. And they were just randomly on the street saying bye to each other, and then Louis was going down into the subway. It doesn’t get more Manhattan than that, people. I totally freaked out, but kept walking passed them, while staring full frontal, and hissing to my special other ‘Look! Look over there. That’s Sarah Silverman and Louis C.K.’ I did not build enough courage to approach them. So, no photographic proof. But I immediately twitted about it, and you can’t put stuff on internet if it isn’t true, so you have to believe me.

Our original destination for live jazz was Small’s but the two times we tried to get in they were all full, and the wait time was 20 min. And who waits for live jazz 20 minutes? No one. Also, consider this a bad review, Small’s.

Zinc saved us in our search for live jazz. We got in. And listened to some. But call it a mediocre night because jazz band they had that night was really mellow, and almost put us to sleep. No offense to the musicians, they seemed very talented, but also very boring. But no offense.

My favorite part of the whole day was this place Sushisamba. It’s a Brazilian/Japanese place. Talk about 50 shades of confusing, but the drinks they have there are just killer. Fair warning: the prices are killer too. But oh so worth selling your ovarian eggs (that’s if you’re a female. Not sure what you can sell as a male. Maybe just try working?).

We had a proper night ending and took the subway home. It started raining and catching a cab when it’s raining, in Manhattan, on a Saturday is simply suicidal. And we’re not suicidal, we’re smart. Also, maybe a tad bit cheap. But mostly smart.

Hope your weekend was smart.

I love you, Sushisamba. Please adopt me.
I love you, Sushisamba. Please adopt me.


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