Mel Mel Puff

One Thursday, it was shortly before the end of my work day when I received a text from Charlie Kelly. He said that he had an extra ticket to see a Sublime cover band on a booze cruise that night. Actually, in a couple hours. Usually I am not one to like a last-minute, hastily put together plan, and this was clearly a desperation invite, since someone had probably bailed at the last minute. But I decided that I would go anyway since I had no other plans for my night, besides standing over my kitchen sink eating an entire carton of blueberries.

So a couple of hours later, I met Charlie Kelly at the same pier where I had met the Playboy on the booze cruise a couple of months earlier. And I of course once again brought my sailor hat to wear at an appropriate moment. The passengers on this cruise were... interesting. In other words, there were quite a few slonkeys. Not surprisingly since this was a Sublime cover band after all. We sat on the upper deck for awhile, to escape the crowd inside. Charlie Kelly pounded drinks like they were water but I knew I had to take it easy, since I had to work the next morning. I'm sure he was not very pleased with me since in lieu of paying for this ticket I was supposed to buy him drinks. However I was unaware that the boat was cash only and he was forced to pay for all of ours. He did not let his annoyance show though and after a few we took some scenic shots of us in my sailor hat in front of the Statue of Liberty. We then headed downstairs to watch the band, where I'm sure my lack of enthusiasm was apparent.

Afterwards Charlie Kelly wanted to keep drinking, and since it wasn't that late I agreed. We headed to the Lower East Side, since he was going to be meeting some friends there later. He had been talking up how cool this place A Lounge was, so we headed there. We entered to this scene: absolutely no one in the place except two guys at a booth in the corner, both on their cell phones. On the small stage at the end of the room was the most ridiculous performer I had ever seen. She was dressed in a Lady Gaga-esque outfit, of bright neon and embellishments everywhere. There were props on the stage around her, with smoke billowing and a girl taking her picture every few minutes. She was singing along to electronic-type music. The bartender was laughing and looked grateful to have us there. Charlie Kelly took his drink, lowered his sunglasses and started dancing around. The singer loved this and when her song ended (which she had introduced as going viral) she screamed that her name was Melody Joy aka "Mel Mel Puff" and told the bartender to get us some shots. Charlie Kelly danced through her next few songs, one of which was called "Why You Mad Bro" and I stood entranced at what was going on around me. Here is a sampling: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBfY_ahDzoU

After her performance she and her friend came over to greet us. We thanked her for the shots and she thanked us for coming out to see her. She turned out to be from Pittsburgh and was now trying to make it big in New York. She was actually very nice and normal to talk to and even let me try on her boondoggle sunglasses! She also seemed to take an interest in Charlie Kelly which I chuckled at. They had to pack up and head out thought and we did the same. We grabbed another beer at the bar next door and I then I headed home before the friends showed up and I made a night of it.

Making a night of it would be for a couple nights later. On my recent trip back to Syracuse I had run into a family friend at Port Authority. He was heading back to Cuse as well and he saved me from having to sit next to a smelly fatty on the bus. He also shared half his sandwich with me and we had amusing convos. For this I had scored an invite to his bday party, which was being held this particular Saturday. I took Atl along for company. He lived in Chinatown and apparently had his own rooftop. This was correct and was huuuge, and almost right next to the Manhattan Bridge. In the corner he had set up a grilling station and some lawn chairs. I had joked to him that I was going to bring some boxed wine with me, but I had no idea how difficult it would be to find. Like it's a precious commodity or something. So I settled with Sutter Home and drank that while he grilled up some food for us. Every 5-7 min the R train would speed by on the bridge and Atl and I amused ourselves by waving to the people on the tour buses.

We ate a delish meal and Fam Friend regaled us with stories of living in Chinatown--how the old ladies in his stairwell always glared at him and how he had never seen so many people spit in his life. We also told him about our favorite phrase "swamp donkey" aka slonkey and we all discussed that for awhile. After eating more guests arrived and I hit the Sutter Home pretty hard. Not such a good idea, it turns out. We had plans to head to a bar in the LES which I called the Roach Bar, as I had seen a giant roach there with GF last summer. We all trucked through Chinatown to get there. My memories here are a bit fuzzy. I know Atl and another girl ran to a bodega to buy Fam Friend a bday pre-packaged muffin. We all took a shot. He then made friends with a larger black girl and Atl began to yell "boob shot, boob shot". It happened, followed by the most ridiculous group picture where Atl is basically holding me up. I know we stayed for awhile, I know I eventually grew bored and ended up texting with....the Playboy. We had been texting the past few weekends but hadn't met up. I hadn't seen him in probably a month, so this seemed like the perfect night, when I was blackout drunk.

I persuaded Atl to leave and I hope I said bye to Fam Friend. I'm sure he was less than impressed with me, since I was too drunk to be any fun, let alone social. Ehhh. I had our cab drop me off at Playboy's apartment. I stumbled up to the entryway (thank god the doorman wasn't there) and tried to ring his bell. Except I was very drunk and must have been pushing the wrong button, multiple times. A few minutes later, a mean-looking old man appeared in the doorway. He asked what I was doing there and who I was there to see. I ignored him and tried to make my way through the door. He was having none of it and pushed the door shut in my face. What a dick. I finally had to call the Playboy so he could come down and let my drunk ass in. I had a good chuckle about what had happened, but he was less amused, because he has no sense of humor whatsoever. Even in my state, I once again refused to have sex with him and then promptly passed out after making out for awhile.

In the morning I was disoriented and not feeling great, obviously. I tried to sneak out without waking him but that was a fail. We had some strained convo while I got dressed and then I saw myself out. Luckily I didn't run into the mean old man. Besides the playboy I had just left! Not my finest showing in New York, but what can you do.