Booze. Brooklyn. And A Drunk Jesus Imposter.

December 18th 2013

Story originally written and experienced: December 14th 2013

The only thing better than booze and Brooklyn –

Is Booze. Brooklyn. And A Drunk Jesus Imposter.


  I’ve never declined a spontaneous adventure.

 Drunkenly locking myself in a public park at 1am

 Getting engaged and sleeping in an orphanage all in one evening and –

 Pretending to pass out to avoid a hook up in attempts to be the world’s greatest wing woman

All included.


  After the last impromptu endeavor Charlie and I took into the unpredicatable jungle of Brooklyn…

 I was a bit interested and slightly intrigued as to where this rogue Saturday afternoon might take us next.

 “Do you want to come with us, Olive? To the party in Brooklyn?” Katie and Charlie asked me on the subway home from brunch.

I looked at them with mild class and said


“Where are we going exactly?” I inquired as I    t o s s e d   off my floral blouse and traded it in for a grungy tee, oversized snow boots and a contemplated ponytail.

Fuck that.

Yeah let’s not.

“We’re meeting friends at a bar called 4th down. Right off of Bedford Ave. It should be fun. They’ve got fooseball…and snacks.”

You had me at snacks.

You had me at snacks.

And so we were in route. >> Hipster attitudes and PBR’s on the mind, battling the relentless snowstorm that proudly landed on the anniversary of the infamous Santacon.

An annual event where mass amounts of rogue santas

Screen Shot 2013-12-18 at 1.48.50 AM

One of these is not like the others…

sTuMbLe around the city, inflicting unexpected presents

Naughty or nice? I just don't know.


While Gingerbread men catch cabs



And off-duty St. Nicks can be found face deep in a Budlight with Geoffrey Beene

Hopefully Rudolph has his shit together #dd

Hopefully Rudolph has his shit together #dd.


After battling the masses in Manhattan, we slyly ducked into the discreet Brooklyn bar to hide away from the festive herd, investing in fantastic company, 6 for $20 PBR tallboys


 A lifesize Jenga.

Brb. Never.

Brb. Never. #mindblown


I played a round. And then I played 8 more.









My pride one slab of wood at a goddamn time #ladylumberjack

 And that’s when I heard it. An Australian accent. And then 8 more.

 “Hey mates! We’ve got heaps of booze ova heh!” One said.

“Hey look! A massive Jenga!” Said another.

 “I’m not sure how we got heh…” said the 4th, 5th, and 6th.

 They were drunk. All of them. Which was quite convenient. As everyone else at the bar was too.

Get on our level.

Get on our level.


One game of community Jenga segued into a bar wide flip cup and ended in conversation about their former whereabouts.

“Like once or twice a ye-ah.” they began to explain “a bunch of our mates get togetha and do what we like to call the ‘Williamsburg shuffle; wheh we just bah crawl around Brooklyn and just drink for no rayson. So. heh we are!”

 And there they were.

 But not for long. Moments later the shuffle was back in session.>>>

 And this time.

We were invited to join.

 To which we were like


And headed on our way.

 But first.

 To officially initiate us into the “Williamsburg Shuffle” they told me

“You can only come if ya moon dance out of this very bah”

 And I did.

 (Footage was too spontaneous to capture. Please see a mediocre re enactment below)

Passable, Mike.

Passable, Mike.


The diverse lot of us frOLIcked in the snow – Whiskey town bound and  ready for an unexpected evening that was soon to take a



 About the equivalent of 8 snowcones to the face later #hailtotheface we had finally arrived at our semi-final destination.

Olive and whisky together at last.

Olive and Whiskey – Together at last.


We were drenched. And remedied our chill with a few pickle back shots and Budlights.


 I looked to my               right.

 And saw an Australian in distress.

An Australian in distress.

This Australian = in distress.


“What happened? What’s wrong?”

 “I just tried to drank that candle. And tha wax fell on mah face.”

Screen Shot 2013-12-18 at 2.19.50 AM

The culprit.

“….And why…would you do…that?”

“Because I’m babay Jaysus. And babay Jaysus can do anything.”

And then everyone was all like:


But what?

His claim was wildly incorrect…but entirely too entertaining to ignore.

So naturally, we shortened his new found name to “Bay Jay” and witnessed as he spent the remainder of the evening drunkenly embracing his new identity (and other innocent bystanders as well)

Not rape.

Not rape.


Whilst he prompted for the “authentic shirtless approach”

Debatably everyone's treat.

Flashback to J’s teenage years.

And whipping out his credit card and screaming


Where he indeed treated his “fellow disciples” (us) to…water that unfortunately never quite turned into wine…

Annyyyy second now Bay Jay.

Annyyyy second now Bay Jay.


The Williamsburg shuffle swiftly changed into a A Christmas Pregame where a spontaneous Q&A ensued with Bay Jay himself.

 “Your birthdays coming up Bay Jay! Any big plans?”

 “Nothin big, just singin some hymns.”

 “Bay Jay! Over here! What’s your dad like?!”

 “Mah dads a great guy. There’s a book about him, ya know. It’s called the bible. Or as I like ta call it: Parts one and two…old and new.”

 “Thanks again for the round, Bay Jay!”

 “What can I say, I like to make sacrifices.” make...sacrifices...noted.

Likes…to make…sacrifices…and still no wine. Check.

Eventually the shuffle was back in action

 Only stopping to pound a slice of “blinking robot cake” we drunkenly admired on the way out

“It’s my boyfriend’s birthday cake!” the sheila in the booth told us

"It's my boyfriend's cake!"

Thanks for the update.


“When he was younger, his mom got him a robot cake but wouldn’t let him eat the silver frosting…which was the entire thing. So. At 25. We ordered him a new one. And here we are.”

 We laughed.

 We cried.

 I ate 4 slices.

And alas the lot of us shuffled over to an establishment called “The Charleston” that offered free pizza with every beer purchase.


The bar was chock full of…Santa Bunnies playing Buck Hunter

The amount of questions I asked = none.

The amount of questions I asked = none.

Taking selfies with temporary strangers

And going into in depth detail with a local as to why oh why he ripped off half the sleeve on his leather jacket.

Meet Glenn and Pat.

What’s up Glenn and Pat.






Answer still pending.

Answer still pending.

And that’s when I saw it.

 Right before my very eyes.

Fellow Australian herd member, Byron became overwhelmed by Bay Jay’s imposterous ways and went forth to claim the title for his very own. To show his true…diaper…and claim his territory with a sharpie marker in hand.

Screen Shot 2013-12-18 at 10.23.41 AM


Dancing happened. A dual between the buck hunting playing Santa bunny and baby jesus happened. Playing ski ball challenge against baby J. Definitely happened.

I won.

I won.

And after a strangely religious, pizza-filled evening splashed with Australian flair and questionable morals – Charlie, Katie and I decided to bid adieu to yet another strange episode in the strange Brooklyn jungle.

And it really wasn’t until we witnessed this sight on the subway commute home.


Tis the season…

And took an impromptu picture with a giant snack in the neighboring station.


Suddenly a little hungry.

 Did we realized that

 This was far from the last time something like this would ever happened again.

 And that we were potentially going to hell #skiballgamble

Happy Holidays Everyone.

 Keep adventuring, Keep loving and Keep living.

 It’s what Bay Jay would do.