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Let the video posted above be a cautionary tale to you as I recount the last 36 hours in detail…

Where do I begin? First off… iLose. I left my wallet on a commuter train. Sucks to be me right now. I can only imagine how all my legitimate identification is being misappropriated.

When I got to the event on Friday evening there was some fugazi character at the door hating on the iNTERNETS CELEBRITIES so we didn’t get inside. How ironic would it have been for me to be swilling free booze on Puma x Yo! MTV RAPS tab after I told them to kiss my ass? Instead the i.C. sidewalk pimped with all the folks stranded outside until we were the only ones left that didn’t get in.

Then the i.C.’s followed the flashing lights to the ‘Feast of San Gennaro’. I think San Gennaro is the patron saint of the zeppole truck. What is banana head about NYC is that every corner you turn on there is something else provacative and exciting going on.

The following videos are dark not because of he content, but because I don’t know how to manage the CyberShot camera. Let’s look at how too many nights in New York City end up… With someone laid the fuck out on the sidewalk.

I fell through an old NYC watering hole hoping to make amends for my poor showing at the Puma sneakers event. Down The Hatch was the Friday after work popoff for a year or two, but not so much anymore. Drunk fratboys have taken over the pool table and the bartenders refused to serve me by literally ignoring me at the counter. WTF is this about?

This is a brand new day in NYC when I’m treated like the shit beneath someone’s shoe, but there it was for me to digest. I left the bar without exchanging any words with any of the bartenders. I didn’t need another drink anyhoo. My cup already runneth over at GABEROCKKA’s birthday party (more on that later).

I continued to walk the streets and resumed my sidewalk pimping. Not sure what I would find when I turned the next corner and there was a gang of drunk Staten Islanders at the corner of Sixth and West 4th. Not too much sidewalk pimping here.

And there’s some more of that nonsense…

When your night ends with you on the courtesy couch of an FDNY ambulance you did not finish off Hip-Hop. You overdosed somewhere along the line. I think I have to rewind my story so that you can see how I came to stumble around Metropolis at four in the morning…