out in bushwick/williamsburg at stud country and ray's
my night started *gay* and ended soo soo straight
I’m getting so excited for my hour of stand up, PowerPoints, and crowd work (flirting) next week at Union Hall on Saturday, March 22 at 7:30pm. Tickets here.
And I’ll be in LA on Thursday, April 17 at 7:30pm. LA Tickets here.
Day of the Week: Thursday
Neighborhood: Bushwick/Williamsburg
The Crew: My friend since I did a summer theater program at sixteen, Andrew, and later, celebrating the very silly comedian, Isa Medina.
The Fit: A body-con dress from She*n with sheer tights and tall black cowboy boots. Honestly, I was really bloated by the end of the night, and you could see everything...you better believe I cropped the photos below. The vibe was day-to-night 90’s lady.
Home by 2am
FIRST GAME: Stud Country at the Brooklyn Monarch
My old friend, Andrew, is not only an absolute sweetheart, but also the line dancing Prince. I’ve accompanied him to Stud Country, a sexy weekly queer line dancing party, pretty much every time I visit him in LA, but I hadn’t been to the new location in NYC at the Brooklyn Monarch in Bushwick. With him in town, we had to check it out.
Brooklyn Monarch is a huge punk rock venue that obviously I had never set foot in prior. Me…in the mosh pit? But I’m so smol. Only once because my ex-boyfriend with untreated depression made me go to Punk Night at Brooklyn Bowl, and I watched him knock into other 30-year-old guys in skinny jeans, and that for some reason was not a turn-off. We had done a little molly…that’s probably why…and I loved him :(
Anyway, Brooklyn Monarch is HUGE. I cannot overstate that. Stud Country lives and dies on having enough room for the queers (said only with the utmost love and respect) to take up space and hoe-emphasis on hoe-down. It’s actually homophobic if the venue is too small. With the logo on every screen and the party lights going, it was a vibe (Aesthetic: 9/10).
The intimidating thing about Stud Country is that if you don’t know the dances, you will in fact ruin it for everyone else. You’ll sashay the wrong direction, run smack dab into someone (all) genders with a mullet, and fuck up their steps. In that way, it is also homophobic to go and dance poorly.
Luckily, you can practice by either attending weekly and learning two new dances a night, by taking their drop-in classes (schedule available on their website), or by watching pre-recorded videos on your own time that live in this google drive (you’re welcome). The fact that I’m sharing this is worth a paid subscription alone! That’s a treasure trove of choreo.
When you get 400 of Bushwick’s hottest baristas stomping and booty-shaking at the honky-tonk, it’s so much easier to forget the hellscape outside (Shaking Ass Factor: 9/10).
Though a portion of my night was spent holding Andrew’s Modelo so that he could shake ass (my beautiful boy knows every dance and is the hottest person on the floor!!), at this point I know a good bit of the songs as well! My favorite little number is a surprisingly slutty take on Ed Sheeran’s Shivers. The first time anyone has called Ed Sheeran slutty. Sorry, but the choreography involves like a very horny and addictive humping move, find it in the drive and see for yourself.
On one such break, holding Andrew’s drink while he devoured the choreography, I made friends with three gay besties by saying “look that’s my friend eating!! Isn’t he eating!!?? No crumbs!” They agreed —then I introduced them to Andrew—yeah, I’m a good wingwoman. None of them were dating each other…or had even hooked up…curious.
There was not a single straight man in the building. He would have combust into flames and good riddance. There were, however, hundreds of the sexiest lesbians you’ve ever seen, doing partner dances. Somehow NYC SC leans more sexy lesbian and LA SC leans more sexy gay. Someone straight, obviously, will have to take a census to get to the bottom of it (Husband Material: 5/10).
I have only ever had a blast at Stud Country, and it gets a huge recommendation from me. Bring your silliest group of girls, gays, and theys, put on cowboy boots + teeny denim shorts or, even better, a flouncy lil miniskirt, and go full yee-haw. It might fix you, at least for a night.
After I was reasonably sweaty, I had to leave to head to a birthday party (likely story), I took a tequila shot for the road (Yummy-ness: 5/10).
SECOND GAME: Ray’s Williamsburg
My evening started *gay* and ended soo soo straight at Ray’s, famously the “fake” dive bar owned by Cousin Greg and Justin Theroux. More specifically at their second location in Williamsburg, the site of Isa’s bday party.
I say “fake” dive bar because they’ve done everything they can to style it like a real dive… pool table, kitschy lights, leather booths, wooden paneling…but it’s all a facade. It’s the rich kid’s Disney version of a dive. Not that I hate that. Please! Vegas is my favorite place in the world —I love artifice. I eat artifice up. Yum yum yum. Sometimes the costume of the thing is better than the actual thing. And in Ray’s case, it’s the Epcot version of your fave dive, with matching Epcot prices (Aesthetic: 6/10).
I have seen Cousin Greg there once in the LES location —he was tall and talking to fawning 20-something girls so it was definitely him. But who cares about Greg. The man I really wanted to run into is my surgeon.
Late last year, I needed to get a lipoma removed. A lipoma is a benign ball of fat (yes, this newsletter is educational). So yeah, I have a medically certified fat ass xo. When choosing who to perform the surgery, I scrolled ZocDoc for the hottest surgeon who takes my insurance. Yes, any app can be a dating app if you believe.
From stalking, I realized he is divorced (public record in Kings County, babe), and in my appointments, I flirted with him every chance I got. He was nothing but professional, but I think I did start to break him, and ultimately, he was inside me (when he took out the lipoma).
At my first appointment, he told me I was his funniest patient of the morning. “You mean…of all time,” I replied. Okay, he’s obsessed. And at my follow-up appointment, after I prompted him, he told me my lipoma removal was his favorite of all the surgeries he did that day. Aww. “I’m glad it was enjoyable for you ;)”
Anyway, he’s no longer my surgeon so I decided to follow him on Instagram (chaotic), and he followed me back (okay!!!!!!). It’s actually a HIPPA violation if he didn’t —that’s doing me harm.
Now, I watch his stories, sometimes in the first 3 minutes of him posting which is so embarrassing, but he already knows all my personal details like my weight so whatever, I’m allowed to know how often he surfs (a lot). He’s literally always at Ray’s or The Nines or on a motorcycle (Surgeon with a God Complex who thinks he’s above death…toooooooooootally…but also…hot).
So I think that tells you everything you need to know about Ray’s…sexy, divorced, stylish, employed SURGEONS, go there! But he wasn’t there for Isa’s bday (Husband Material: 8/10).
A super fun array of some of Brooklyn’s best (& hottest, not a requirement, but just LOOK at the photos) showed up for Miss Isa to eat an unbelievably delicious strawberry shortcake and talk shop (Shaking Ass Factor: 0/10).
After a tequila shot prescribed by the Birthday Girl (she’s also a doctor), I was in a mood to impress my girlfriends so I told them “I’m going to talk to that table of guys!” Then I made them watch me as I beelined to a group 30-something recreational soccer players still in their uniforms after a game. Literally with the same energy as a kid who is like “MOM! Watch me do a somersault.” Girls, watch me!
“Did you guys win?”
“No, unfortunately.”
“That’s what I told my girlfriends. It seemed like you lost :/” as I pointed to my comedian friends, watching open mouthed, at the bar. Stuck the landing!!!!!!!!
We chatted for fifteen minutes or so, until I was bored so I sat next to a Frenchman at the bar and asked him where he was from, then eventually to buy me a margarita. He did. Parfait. (Yummy-ness: 7/10).
Unfortunately, I was having more fun being sparkly and charming than actually interested in anyone I was talking to, and isn’t that how it goes? I’m a party all on my own.
Where should I go next!? Leave a comment, email me, or send me a DM, and I’ll wait in lines, try the cocktails, and honky-tonk for you!