March 14th, 2009

Me

Jack Haringa Lives!

I know because I saw him myself! The venerable mssrcrankypants came to New York City with his wife and son (who I swear is getting bigger by the second!) and I had the pleasure of seeing them last night. We met up for a delicious, authentic Japanese dinner at Village Yokocho, a great restaurant where he, lupa, the_black_radio and I hung out the last time Jack was in town, for the Shirley Jackson Awards fundraiser at the KGB Bar. Jack's wife is from Japan, and he speaks fluent Japanese himself, so I let them order and was not disappointed in the results, which were far from the usual sushi, sashimi, tempura and teriyaki one sees at average Japanese restaurants around the city. Now if only I could remember what everything was called, I'd be sure to order those dishes again!

Anyway, after eating nonstop for an hour and a half, we dropped his wife and son back at the hotel in midtown and headed out for a night on the town. The first bar we hit was McFadden's, which turned out to be a meat market, complete with shot girl, the shittiest songs from the 1980s being blasted at ear-rupturing decibels by the DJ, and a crowd so young I could have sired any of them. We left and hit the much quieter and nicer Perfect Pint, a four-story Irish pub, where we had a few more and discussed literature, women, and everything that's wrong with the horror genre. Of course.

And then. And then, dear reader. We went to a pub called Keat's.

For karaoke.

I won't reveal what happened there. That's between me, Jack and the drunk, fifty-year-old British woman who tried to seduce me by running her fingers through my hair. But I will say this. If Jack ever claims he didn't sing "Jesse's Girl" in Vincent Price's voice, he's lying! LYING!