My roomie D and good, old friend Ana (half Serbian, and, though we didn't know it 'til we got there, totally fluent in Serbian) went with me to Baci Vini (a hole in the wall under Anzu) to celebrate the New Year this past Friday.
Gotta be honest. I wanted to report back to you all today with lots of new words for your lexicon. But alas, though Boris, (my Serbian friend of a friend) and his friends were throwing lots of Serbian phrases at me, I remember little. The only one I remember is actually the one that'll come in most handy, though. Ladies, take note:
Yasm Damma!
That's right-- "I'm a game/challenge," biatch!
Sorry for the cursory knowledge with which I am reporting back from my travels. At one point in the night, I knew how to correctly say, 'Happy New Year', 'Where's the bathroom,' 'I love champagne'... but alas, Yasm Damma is the only thing that stuck. Freudian, if I do say so myself. It's not so much that I can't pronounce the stuff. I can. I was classically trained in voice for years. I can mimic most sounds pretty well. Remembering them is a different thing, though. You see, there was lots of champagne flowing, and we were at the bar two maybe three times for my personal fave: the Vodka, Cranberry, Orange and Pineapple -- scream that to a bartender three times fast-- with Belvedere, please.
We didn't stay at Serbian New Years. I mean, Ana did. But D and I, with a new respect for the immigrant in America, fled out of Baci towards Anzu where we danced around there to the music with **English** lyrics (yea!). Not that we're ethnocentric or anything, but spastic techno in Serbian is... well... draining. Back to Anzu: we were two chicks dancing drunk and by ourselves, so there were interested jeerers and leerers... *big deal* they were excited about the prospect of drunk ass (seen 40yo virgin, anyone?). What creed or color were said jeerer/leerers?-- we didn't care enough to check, P. We were out of there after our first drink.
We ended the night at Steve's Bar Room because it's my fave place right now. I know, creature of habit... but the bartenders are (usually) hot and the atmosphere is fun, and I always end up on the bar somehow (this last time, to spank one of the bartenders).
All in all, a fun night had by all... in new places, learning new things, meeting new people.... it was fun. It's going to be my mini-challenge for the rest of the year: try new places. Perhaps go out one night without hitting up Steve's... (the horror!)
5 comments:
[snicker] Stretchna Nova Godina sounds like a skin disorder.
Hehe. Yeah. But where is this Nova Stretchin-a? tee hee.
So yes, alas I have finally read the much talked about blog phenomenon that has reached me with the same lightning speed as I discovered what an amazing gift text messaging is for one's phone (embarrassingly only a few months ago). When I read over the description of our serbian new years eve celebration, i realized that the night might not have been as horrendous as I remembered it to be...i think i forgot about how much fun we had between my 3rd vodka, cran, pineapple, orange, my 3/4? glass of champagne, and trying to flag down a cab for over a half our that would take me to our humble abode 5 minutes away...since when did DC cab drivers started to be so discriminatory against frizzy haired single women in need of some transportation?!?
Anyways, i believe this is a lot longer comment than im supposed to give so i will end here in hopes that in the near future, roarsavage and her roommate (aka me, her partner in crime :)) will both a)learn more serbian so we can understand what other people are saying about us and b)end the steve's bar room obsession...until next time..
The end of Friday was definitely WET!
And I'm not sure what the deal is with the cab situation these days. I have had to beg and plead before. They want to know, after I tell them our address, if it's NE or NW, cuz they won't go that far cuz they're about to be "off duty." Well guess what, dude, you're NOT off duty. Pardon me if I'm wrong, but I think it's against the law for a cabbie in NYC to refuse a passenger. That and the confusing dome light thing on cabs, I think really make being a DC cabbie way more of a cush job than being one anywhere else.
And honey, you NEVER have frizzy hair. Fuzzy, max.
PS-- Had loads of fun that night with you, too, babe!
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