Party Report: There is a bar on the block where I work themed after the movie Porky’s. The clientele skews fratty and most Friday mornings I’m greeted at the front door of our building by the contents of some clubgoer’s stomach. Always the same mix of semi-digested pizza or some rice dish with the deep burgundy hue of four or five too many vodka cranberries. Shit, for all I know it could be the same person every week. A serial puker. Lately the NYPD has been doing a bangup job policing the street after last call so now the puddles of vomit have been replaced with giant clumps of neon green horseshit. Against better judgment I ate there one day after staring at a computer screen for 8 hours, too hungover to do much else. The place was completely dead save for myself and Mrs. Disgusting Things I Have Eaten and they had a 25 cent wing special. Surprisingly enough the food was quite tasty.
