What I Learned: July 3rd

This week, we travel to NYC Pride 2015, Brooklyn to a Basquiat exhibit and a bar where my useless knowledge got me free booze!

Saturday: Murakai x Vans launch.

I’ve never been to Barney’s. I’ve lived here my whole life and I have never set foot in any one of the high end stores on Fifth Avenue (except Tiffany’s and even that was weird) So when I found out there was a launch with an artist I admire and a sneaker I like to wear I wanted in.

I also forgot that this was the same day as the Kanye West Yeezy Boost 350 release.

And the launch of the Shattered backboard high dunk.

I work in an industry that requires me to remember that and still somehow managed to forget it. Go figure. I had a camera on me to boot. SO. I’m there, with a camera and a fucking double sneaker launch and I didn’t have a crew or the sense to film any of it.

It’s not a roshe run. promise

Vans x Murakami and they don’t come in women’s sizes. the fuck

Halloween special amirite?

I don’t do sneaker launches to be honest but I wanted those damned vans. SO. I went. First of all, kids are strange, the flip culture is bizarre and the wildest part are the grown men who’s wads of cash are clutched in their fists while they wait around for a pair of sneakers they hope to flip into bigger profits. I had a kid tell me he bought his $200 Yeezys and flipped them immediately for $1200. On. Sight. The guy with the cash basically said, ‘say no more’ and immediately bought them before it could be a missed opportunity. Look at the sneaker. They’re basically the Nike Roshe run (an equally meh sneaker but I have a pair in blue suede that I didn’t spend a shit ton of money on) with Kanye’s nickname on it.

In any case.

I didn’t get the Vans, they were only apparently available in men’s sizes and the smallest size, (once I landed at the register) was 8.

REALLY?!

First world issues aside, work flies by and I’m out on time. I have no idea what to do with myself on days like that.

Sunday:

My fat trap and need to be a contributing member of the production society got me in the middle of Christopher Street on Sunday with my small crew covering the Pride festival. It was decidedly eye opening and for my most recent foray into the world of serious producing, not bad.

http://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2015/06/new-york-city-pride-man-on-the-street-video

Monday: Honestly? I can’t even remember Monday. I’m fairly certain I did something pretty decent, I didn’t flail and crying in the corner. nope. Oh. Wait. I ACTUALLY HAD THE DAY OFF…but I spent it planning and plotting. I wound up in a bar on Bleeker Street conveniently named Bleeker Street Bar where, whist wearing my team USA soccer jersey, I failed to watch the actual match because of course I didn’t watch it. I basically allowed my terrible joke appreciating, movie knowing self get me into trouble. I devour the ever-loving shit out of a Baconator from Wendy’s and a spicy wrap, hate buy stuff from Strand and wind up at home before 10pm.

Tuesday: More of the same. A day off. Which is welcome despite my past track record. I did stuff for work but honestly? I’m kinda in a terrible place where I’m like, ‘girl, you need to fix your life but OMG this pizza’

Wednesday: I’m in Brooklyn for work and it’s awesome. I meet Bilal (who is delightful) set up an interview in a tough to get into exhibit (Basquiat: The Lost Notebooks) take a foxy as fuck picture of the KAWS statue in the lobby and basically marvel at my ability to adapt. This must be what it feels like to be a ghost. I leave late, walk all the way over to a comic shop I know is still open (and isn’t Midtown Comics) and buy a shit ton of books I’m far behind on.

Thursday: FIRE SALE EVERYTHING MUST LAUNCH. THERE IS FREE PIZZA AND IT’S DELICIOUS. I send back something I bought for Waffle because it was awkward when I said that I had it and then I wound up feeling like an idiot. I spend most of the late evening in the office where I wrap out work, watch Team America World Police (America FUCK YEAH) and am handed a peace offering of a Cuba cigar. It’s delightful because I just don’t get anything and there it is.

Friday: I drive mom around which is amazing considering a week ago, she had a pacemaker set into her chest. We go to Target where I basically dismantle their (still ingrained in me) system and wind up saving about $5 bucks courtesy of all the coupons I hoard. I’m supposed to go to my brother’s but I have more work to do (super blessing) and wind up at the liquor store, uncarded buying Jack Daniels Whiskey Rye Mash, do more work and wrap out by 10pm. I drink sour mash rye whiskey and hate watch a rom-com called Two Night Stand with the adorable Miles Teller while wondering why two full day have passed since Waffle text me and I contemplate the feelings of absolute aloneness I am combating. I buy $100 worth of groceries (booty not eaten) and wonder what it is I’m doing with myself. I’m doing big things I guess which absolutely beats the bullshit jobs I was running a year ago.

I admit I have a hustler’s mentality, a gambler’s heart and a drunk’s luck.

I’m a strange barrel of fun.

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