Sunday, July 22, 2007


Why, hello there, gentle reader.

Welcome to the PAGATSURVEY (pronounced: Pa-GAT). Pagats is the only survey dedicated to the various bars and establishments that Patrick Garrigan went to Friday.

As you are probably aware, Patrick is uber-posh and the spots he frequents only serve to reinforce his "poshie-ness." However, it has long been Patrick's belief that everyone should be able to experience "poshie-ness," even if only living vicariously through crappy restaurant summaries. Incredible, right?!

Read on, friends who knows maybe you might end up at an establishment like...

Rudy's Bar & Grill

627 9th Ave, New York, NY
Phone: 212.974.9169

This upscale bistro is only for the truly cultured. Not unlike the 21 Club's tacky lawn ornaments, Rudy's features a dignified life-sized pig to mark it's place in the streetscape of culinary greatness.

FOOD: There are free hot dogs, that may or may not be made from the lips and hooves of pigs/cows. Delish!
DECOR: Life-sized pig available for inappropriate photo ops. Duh!
SERVICE: One of the guys that works there has a shaved head, wears a tie and calls you "chief." Rudy's rules!

Bamboo 52 OR Is This A Gay Bar?
344 West 52nd Street
, New York, NY
Phone 212.315.2777

Patrick does not know if this is a gay bar or not. All's he knows is that decor is very tasteful, there are frequent Sound of Music sing-a-longs and most of the people there are guys making out. You be the judge.

FOOD: Girlfriend, the Bamboo 52 sushi rolls are tast-ay, okay?! The delightful pieces of caviar are a taste explosion! (Patrick fears have caught "the gay" here)
DECOR: They have lots of potted bamboo plants that Patrick used to reenact scenes from Wild America.
SERVICE: The Newcastle flows like a nutty brown font of deliciousness.

Absolutely 4th
228 West 4th Street, New York, NY
Phone: 212.989.9444

Absolutely 4th? Absolutely. The bar's website touts the establishment as, "Greenwich Village's (who calls it that?) Favorite Sexy Bar & Lounge." Upon arrival, Patrick declares, "This is my favorite sexy bar and lounge! Sexy! Sexy! Sexy!" He is then kicked in the shins and is asked to 'simma down'.

FOOD: By this point in the evening, Patrick has taken to carrying around a box of Goldfish. When the bouncers ask him to get rid of them he pleads, "But it's snacky time...."
DECOR: Fun window-style openings at each booth allow Patrick the opportunity to conduct mini puppet shows, while "preserving the illusion."
SERVICE: Very attentive cocktail waiter is called Josh, Joe, Jeb, John, Jehosafat, and Jibly Bibbly by Patrick during the course of the night & he responds to them all.

316 Bowery, New York, NY
Phone: 212.253.8644

Not many people know this, unless they are in-the-know (ITK), but trendy nightspot, mannahatta, has a very strict dress code:
Luckily, Patrick brought them all. Hollerrrrrrrr!!

FOOD: Yes, please.
DECOR: Patrick spent the entire night calling out the page numbers of the IKEA catalog from which each decor piece was ordered. When the waitress attempted corrected him, he began singing the Swedish National Anthem.
SERVICE: Patrick says he saw a little "servicing" on his way to the bathroom. Followed by a series of lewd gestures.

Rennaisance Diner
Under Patrick's Apartment, New York, NY
Phone: 246.9873

Enter the home of late night eats for theatre trash & assorted drunkards. It is here that Patrick enjoys his staple BLT, chocolate milkshake & pickled pigs feet.

FOOD: "Hello, mommy."
DECOR:"This place got a crapper or what?"

Aknowledgements -
PAGATSURVEY would like to thank a lot of people for their contributions to the survey. Unfortunately, these same people have threatened legal action if Patrick mentions their names or shows their images. So thaaaaanks!


Editorial Note: Next week is the big move to Astoria, Queens, so I'm taking an Asoriatus. Good news, no posting means you have my permission not to go to work next Monday. Phew, that worked out well.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Tear Down This Wall!

"Mr. Garrigan, tear down this wall!" These were the immortal words I spake to myself July 14, 2007. But first, we must begin where it all, started -at the beginning.

The year was 2005, I was a young chap back then, busying myself producing sphincter-rattling marketing initiatives during the day and performing as a bit player in the Philadelphia premiere of Tullamore Dew & Me: One Man's Tale of Big-Timing & Stumbling into Parking Meters.

One day, while working in Philly, I was overcome with the revelation that I needed to cut loose. But not just a little loose. Totally loose. St. Lo(ose)uis.
Yet, even as this realization washed over me, there were a lot of unanswered questions. Where was St. Louis? What if I could only cut sorta loose? Why did iced coffee cost so much more than regular coffee? And most importantly, what would happen to my "room" in the bedroomless section of the (1) bedroom hovel penthouse that I shared?

Then it dawned on me. I would build a wall.

After building the wall I decided that I would "sublet" it while I was away. Subletting is a lucrative practice wherein European tourists or recent college graduates are tricked into paying someone money to live in that person's place while they are away -only to be kidnapped & sadistically tortured by an underground, secret society of Manhattan socialites.

For the next few years, I used the wall to make my 1BR a 2BR. Therein allowing the freedom to torture tourists & grads when I was away; and do bumps of coke off strippers asses, while cultivating my flourishing handmade doilie business, when home. It really was ideal. But this, like all good things, had to come to an end.

About (2) weeks ago, I visited my management company to chat with my landlord, Mr. Yee (who may or may not be a ninja). Evidently, there had been a lot of tenant complaints about the screaming & strippers coming and going at all hours.

However, Mr. Yee & I had a rapport. He would bark in Mandarin while waving his nunchucks at me, and I would smile and nod like I understood what he was saying. I'm a people person.

What I got from our conversation was that he didn't want to kick me out, but they would have to make a colossal raise in the rent in order to bribe the tenants not to go to the Housing Authority.

The rent hike was far more than I could afford.

He was tough, but fair. I told him I would have to move, hit him in the head with a green-striped tube sock filled with flour and we engaged in Mortal Kombat -you know, for old times sake.

After splitting a traditional piece of boston creme pie with Mr. Yee, I went home to survey my wall. I knew what I had to do. I assembled my cabinet to give the speech of my life. Then I realized I had no cabinet, so I simply said...

"Mr. Garrigan, tear down this wall."

And it was done.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

iGot An iPhone!!!

Omigod, you guys! Omigod! I got an iPhone! Did you ever watch the last episode of Dallas, you guys!? An iPhone! Could you just die?!! Omigod!

It was like a dream. I totally wanted to tell you about it when I got it last week, but I didn't want to make you jealous. I know how you get.

Last Friday, I waited in line for (4) hours in the morning and it was crazy exciting! When I arrived there were (10) people in line. When I lined up and took my position as #11, I immediately felt a kinship with the people out there. You know, like we got each other, ya know?

Just then, the manager came out and said that he was cutting the line and that there were only (10) iPhones available and I was #11!!! I then caused a huge scene pleading my case that I had reserved #10's place in line when his "McGriddle (the official breakfast sammy of yours truly) wasn't sitting so well"! It was an outrage!

I had the solution. We would settle our little drama the way I always did. I then produced a bottle of Popov & a revolver (because I never leave home without them) from my knapsack and settled the dispute with a good 'ol fashioned game of Russian roulette.

I didn't die, so I got an iPhone! Weeeeee!

All the rumors you have heard are true. No, not the ones about me touring the country as back-up dancer for a drag queen, the ones about all the features this phone has!! Telephone calls, the Interweb, E-mail, Text messaging, iTunes, iMovies -but really that's just the tip of the iceberg.

My fantasy came true! A while back I had requested a taser from you, my readers. BECAUSE I COULD DIE AT ANY TIME! Well, luckily Steve Jobs loves me more than you do, because my iPhone has a taser! Furthermore, if I see any of you selfish bastards on the street, I will iMaim you and it will iHurt, iGuarantee it.

The thing that is really great about the technology behind the iPhone is that it was all tested by the military and despite the cries from the Defense Department ("ooh, citizens shouldn't have access to Tomahawk missiles, boo hoo"), they kept the features on the phone! YES! I can launch missiles from my phone!

On Tuesday, I gave new meaning to "The War of Northern Aggresssion". Sorry, Tennessee.

iBidet (accessories)

When I told my dad I was getting an iPhone he says, "well what does it do, wash your butt?" While the iPhone doesn't, the iBidet (an upgrade to the outdated, laughable iDock) does. The iBidet syncs up with all of my other iProducts, so that I might enjoy them all with the certain knowledge that I have a clean ass.

The feature that I have found to be the most useful is the iEgo function. Essentially, iEgo involves highly sensitive sensors that gauge the ego needs of the user and provides a quick compliment or pick-me-up. Let me just tell you with my ego, this puppy's working overtime! To be honest, I use the iPhone most of the time to have a computerized, dreamy Rose McGowan tell me how big my biceps look. ...and if I'm having a particularly off day, she shows me her tittays!!! God bless technology!


I woke up and realized I actually have a Nokia circa 1997. Dammit! It's enough to make you want to shoot JR yourself!

GWGG Capitol Recap
- Paying Attention So You Don't Have To

The latest Congressional bill as presented by Rep. Robert Ingersol (R-SC), courtesy of my collegeues at O-SPAN. Democracy works, man!!

Sunday, July 01, 2007

A Tale from the Road

Throughout my days as a performer, the road has been my only home. My home? The road.

It's a tough life. Living out of suitcases, eating in fine establishments, bangin' skanks, ya dig?

On the road you have lots of crazy adventures. Like the time I inadvertently became a participant in a Tijuana donkey show. (I've never looked at livestock quite the same.)

...or the time I killed a clown in Reno, just to watch him die. Unfortuantely, my lawyers have advised me not to discuss that story. Oopsie!

Along the way you meet a lot of famous people. I have heard. I do not know this first hand. I have met a lot of people who have met famous people however, and that should impress you. For instance...

TRUE STORY: When I was on tour with Titanic, I always went out of my way to be supa nice to my dressers. First and most importantly, I am always impeccably dressed and so I depend on these people to make me look foxy for the ladies. Meow!

Secondly, they always have the best gossip.

Beloved film icon, Mickey Rooney, was touring with the Wizard of Oz. The tour played some God-forsaken place and he was assigned the star dressing room on the 3rd floor.

Being a man of some years and the idol that he is, he was catered to by a team of (3) dressers. During the course of the show, the theatre's elevators were reserved exclusively for Mickey.

After tirelessly working to get Mr. Rooney whatever his little heart desired, it was these dressers' job to make sure that he made it to the stage to facilitate his entrances.

At one such performance, after dressing him in his multi-layered emerald attire, they escorted him to his awaiting elevator. On the way down to the deck Mickey clenched & gruffly proclaims, "Teeeeeaaaaaahhhh! Motherfucker! Awwwwwwwww shit! Take me back up, I messed myself." Which they did -and the show was held for (30) minutes while the poor dressers cleaned the stinky-stinky out of Mickey's trousers.
Now, I know what you're thinking, "Patrick, you hateful bastard, of all your travels you choose to tell us a story about an aged national treasure dumping in his munchkin costume?"


I do this, frankly, because I like stories where adults stankify their britches.

Like once, when my sister and I were in college, she doody'ed her pants while we were painting and I retell this story whenever the opportunity presents itself -like now.

Bottom line, I like dick & fart jokes. What?!!

EDITORIAL NOTE: I apologize for the crass nature of this post. The summer heat has made me sweaty, and in turn my standards have reached all new lows. I'd like to tell you I promise to improve, but I have no real sense of journalistic integrity.


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