Monday, April 28, 2008

But is there an Irish Bar?

I have a major problem.

I am moving to the Upper West Side for a ridiculously cheap (Manhattan-style cheap) rent of $680.

One wall is slanted. The closest is in an inconvenient place. But it’s $680 and the living room and kitchen are basically the size of my entire apartment now. $680. In Manhattan. It’s like the jackpot. (I would say with monopoly money, but we are talking Manhattan where my teeny apartment that has become too small for myself alone—because my roommate lives with her b/f—so therefore, real money and we’ll go with the dollar, but not the Euro because it’s a slanted wall and not perfect.)

But there is one problem.

“Is there an Irish bar your friends can go to?” my boyfriend asked me.


Baker Street: Irish lady yelled a me for not drinking, always thought I should hang out there, but I never do.

No idea what he’s talking about.

“You know, where you’re friends can go late night?”


Yes. Well, no. I don’t know yet. I should have checked the neighborhood before I said yes!

Can I really move into a place that doesn’t have an Irish bar with in walking distance that my drunk college friends and the drunk Freakazoids (aka Freakazoid , Bazarama and Aggie-but not Aggie because she has only been there for car bombs on New Years Eve with a certain St. LouA-natic—yeah I know that spelling is wrong) can go to in their pajamas?

I have already said yes. But oh my, I hope there is one, and I’m frightened there’s not!