LIGERS, PHOENIXES, AND COYPUS, OH MY!!

So, the long-anticipated post has arrived.
Mood: On cloud 10, because it’s way more exclusive/kewl/clean/phat/expensive/puresex/that’swhat’sup/thecat’smeow than Cloud 9. duh.

Sunday the 14th was Polina’s birthday, so of course she had called together a meeting of the minds in the Four Seasons (where else) in Buenos Aires on Wednesday night to collaborate and plan the world’s best birthday weekend in just only 24 hours (and longer time amount would just be too easy). Of course, though, she had her own vision–and that was Saturday night’s White Liger Pyramid. But before I embark on the task of making a literary legend out of that singularly spectacular spectacle, I must detail the sequence of events leading up to the bonanza.

Thursday night began Thursday afternoon at 4, when, before I settled cozily into my tranquil bed for my afternoon siesta, I heard an abrupt rap rap a tap on my door, number 404. A little agitated, I arose to answer the beckoning call. Upon opening the door, any previous agitation fled and was replaced with utter joy. Polina popped into the door frame, Andy Samberg style, with large plastic bags filled with glass bottles, and a chicken Caesar salad sans the “Caesar dressing” (more like mustardy-liquid). We grabbed glasses, popped the corks to 2 bottles of Brut, summoned Mike, of I-chew-your-hair-and-make-you-uncomfortable-fame, and took the noble dive into what would be the single-most UNbelievable weekend of our lives (until my Birthday…December 31st, ahem, ahem.)

By 7 pm, we decided what would be best for us was a pub crawl around Buenos Aires (check out pictures at http://www.bapubcrawl.com). The pub crawl began at 10, about 4 hours earlier than any normal BA outing, so we had to get ready (party-attire) fast. Getting ready…well…after a more than adequate amount of champagne, was a challenge, to say the least- comparable to a potato sack race whilst one of your legs is tied to your childhood front yard tree and the other to your semi retarded black sheep cousin. I’ll equate the shower process to Nastia Luiken trying her hardest not to throw some bows when the Chinese girl stole her gold medal. One of those one’s where you just have to sit down because all the water flying at your head is too much to handle. Nevertheless, after an hour or two, I went to fetch the lady of the hour, Polina. To my dismay, she answered the door looking like the Joker. I told her to wipe off her make-up and start anew, but unfortunately, the second try wasn’t much better than the first. But I thought, hey…it’s her party, she can cry later when she sees the photos if she wants to. So we (Polina, Mike, Sharon, Matt, Julia, and I) left to meet up with the exceptionally good looking crew that hosted our soon-to-be-infamous pub crawl…The itinerary was set: we would go to 3 bars around Plaza Serrano, a free shot at each location, followed by drink specials, even a tango lesson?, and then on to Club Arroaz/Lost for the wrap up of the night. The details following our arrival to the first bar are relatively inconsequential, considering Polina only made it to the first 15 minutes of the third bar before I had to take her home. These are the only important things you need know: when we received the speech from the crawl leader with the usual, “don’t be that guy, puking on the sidewalk,” Polina energetically raised her hand shouting “Me! Me! Me!,” when I was sitting next to the birthday sweetheart, she accidentally poured an entire vodka drink into my lap. When I said, “Polina, you just poured an entire vodka drink into my lap,” She responded by smiling widely and pouring another drink directly all over my face. She “claims” she doesn’t remember- (“SOOOORRRRRYYYYYYY I REALLY DON’T.”-Polina)

Friday morning I awoke to immeasurable pain. My body hurt in places that don’t even exist. Somehow, some way, though, I was able to gather my senses, my thoughts, and my walking skills, much like a struggling newborn, and go to brunch and the zoo with Mike (Polina has still yet to get a cell phone, so she went before we did, and never found us). I had vegetales del Wok (stir-fry, an interesting and mentally unfounded choice), and Mike had the most beautiful steak and eggs I’ve ever seen. The zoo had almost all the animals I wanted to see (no Pandas) and all the animals I surely didn’t want to see, namely coypus/nutrias, incredibly large glorified sewer rats free roaming around the zoo grounds so you could feed them. Other animals of interest: vacunas–I need one, NOW. Albino wallabees–perhaps the most unfortunate-looking animal alive. White tigers–got me pumped for Saturday night’s festivities. Kangaroos–I don’t think I had ever actually seen one in real life. Hyenas–truly terrifying, but I kept imagining hearing them speak like Whoopi Goldberg-a la The Lion King. Anyways, after an incredibly long day at the zoo (how did that happen?), I went home to sleep/regret last night’s decisions/wonder how in the world I would be able to go out a second night. Well, I did. And we *tranced*all*night*long. The evening began with late drinks at Bar Bizarro Mundo–a kind-of-cool-in-a-way/slightly creepy place with a 1950’s American burlesque theme, red mood lighting and all, and was then followed by a major dance party at Club Niceto. The DJ was probably 47 from a recently bombed village in the outskirts of Beirut or Jerusalem, with gray hair, but he played the MAYJA’ jamz. Approximately 46% of the NYU kids were there, and we collectively danced off 17 pounds by the end of the night. The highlight of the night was witnessing a revolving disco-glass studded camel above the entrance. I may or may not have stolen it. Well, I didn’t, but I definitely wanted to. I’m getting an inside man to finish the job. Not really, but I’ve got elaborate plans to do so.

Saturday was museum day. We went to Museo de Bellas Artes (B-e-SH-as), an incredible place with some of the most fascinating pieces (if skittle vomit on a canvas or the epitome of what you would see if you DID do mushrooms is your cup of tea.) We played “if you had an infinite amount of money, which paintings would you buy and what room would you put them in.” So…hypothetically, I have a very well-decorated mansion, beach house, ski chalet, and woodsy lodge/ranch with rooms such as: the mud room, the beach towel room, grandmother’s bedroom, dark lair, room for crafty objects, psychadelic music listening room, and so forth. I’m also worth several billion dollars- Bill Gates bought my used painting plasmas that change in each room cuz I wanted the newer updates and he was scaling back his budget. Now will you date me, George Clooney?…A delightful day at the museum quickly turned into a large family-style Italian dinner-a la Olive Garden. Just kidding, we didn’t go to Olive Garden, but I bet there’s one here. Dinner was at El Trapiche, a restaurant recommended to me by my brothers’ friend. It was my second time going, and it only got better. I had a mixed salad and raviolis and the Latitud 33 Chardonnay. And. The tiramisu. And. Champagne. We celebrated two birthdays, Polina’s and Natalia’s. Both now 21 years of age. We got lots of cute pictures, but I was wearing a trapese top with skinny jeans, and since we’re sitting down in the majority of the pictures, it just looks like I’m pregnant. I guess I can’t look better than everyone else all the time….And, as could be expected, our lengthy dinner soon turned into a lengthy line waiting to enter the Liger Spectacular. As mentioned before, Saturday was the big night, the climax of the birthday weekend blowout. Polina had her creative team choreograph a show so incredible, so awesome, so marvelous that even Martha Stewart, Britney Spears, Zach Effron, Oprah, and the Beatles had to be turned away because there weren’t enough seats–sold out in 1.7 seconds. Really. I have the internet receipts to prove it- if i have these how have we still not been able to conceive a paper trail for the electronic election machines? Below are the details of how the show unfolded….

I’ll begin with the liger pyramid. And this liger pyramid was just not any liger pyramid. These ligers (half lion, half tiger, powerful lasers in the middle of their head) stacked, one on top of the other, to form a three-dimensional pyramid, 85 feet high, and in the center of the pyramid was…Polina. At their cue, the pyramid opened at it’s top to a central pillar of ligers on their hind feet, lifting Polina into the air. Then all the ligers sang happy birthday to the birthday girl in 14 different languages. Yes. 14 different languages. (She had them linguistically trained by Lupe’s–one of two women who run the maxikiosco on the corner of Ecuador and Viamonte, where I buy my Bueno Bars–friend, Pablo, from Peru- cuz he needed a job and Polina was kind enough to take him onto the creative team, world renowned for their work with Madonna on her Confessions on a Dance Floor tour and Britney’s I’m A Slave tour) Of course, this was all amidst a huge laser light show featuring the joint efforts of the Ligers’ lasers and huge oversized Phoenixes flying across the glamorously decorated stage–continuously rising from the ashes and awing the audience of over 1.7 million people (at the arena we had built in just 17 hours). Once the flame spewing jefe phoenix rose to his intended destination of the highest perch above the crowd, approximately the size of Luxembourg, he ceased his volatile morning-after like breath of fuego, opened his cavernous mouth, unrolled a purple velvet tongue, and made way for Kanye West to non-chalantly sache, both fearlessly and finesse-fully down the stair way of mucus which was actually a mixture between congealed diamonds and Cristal…and casually began a song set comprised of Flashing Lights-Addiction-New Workout Plan (quite the throwback)- Harder Better Faster Stronger- Love Lockdown (world premiere performance- The Good Life- Jesus Walks- and a cover of Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing. Everyone was in awe slash the ligers froze in a downward dog position before climbing one another’s backs to form a furry escalator for Kanye to descend to the floor on. Then Kanye kissed Polina on the cheek and said “HAPPY BIR-DAY GURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLLLLL- remembaaaa what dey say, Everything they told me not to is EXACLLLLLLLLYYYYYYYY what I would.” Gold flakes rained down on everyone and then house trained magic vicunas put 17 million dollars in everyone’s pockets as they filed out.

So, Sunday rolls around, and what is it to behold? Why only the best fucking brunch ever created in the cutest fucking restaurant in Buenos Aires. I’m talking, I probably spent at least 4 hours here, just ogling. Olsen, a Scandinavian-themed restaurant is so quaint that I thought little bunnies in pink sweaters were going to serve me my food. I had the plato del día, a smörgåsbord, literally. A sopa de cebolla (butternut squash soup), a little green salad, the most delectable seasoned potatoes- Paula Dean eat your heart out- and some kind of meat topped with cranberries that actually melted in my mouth. The wait staff was good looking. There were flowers cascading down the heated walls. There was a tiny little wooden bridge. The bathroom was a jungle. Really. It was decorated in jungle fashion. I recommend this restaurant to any and everyone. Mainly because there really are little bunnies in pink sweaters, but they don’t serve the food, they’re the bathroom attendants and they give you little lollipops on your way out. Maybe that’s just the girls’ bathroom, but surely they wouldn’t be sexist bunnies–Scandanavians wouldn’t do that.

Saludos, mundo. Ten divertido.

Liger Pyramid