How to nearly kill yourself in eleven days.

Part I:
Party yourself sick with Miss Overindulgence.

9/14 – Rollerskating at the Roxy. Fuel up on margaritas and Mexican food. Lace up skates, skitter onto the rink and aim to take an innocent skater down with you on first fall. Feed the tank with two more Coronas while watching perfect coworker “shoot the duck.” Find inspiration in an Alicia Keys song and allow ballad-stimulated stylistic overconfidence to take you on a scathing ride on the wooden slip-n-slide. Medicate any injuries with Corona, without regard to the inevitable morning hangover.

9/15 – Kick off CMJ w/ The Billy Nayer Show @ the Knitting Factory. Meet up with German festival companion and metal connoisseur extraordinaire. Get balls (literal or figurative, whatever’s available) blown off by The Billy Nayer Show’s freakish rock fables and Dr. Seussian proclamations of love. Wish for dad who either plays the Autoharp or is willing to grow out a six inch long black beard. After drinking a few pints, allow embarrassing lack of stamina, still in the growth stage, to force exit before headliners Of Montreal take the stage.

9/16 – CMJ: Coco Rosie, Supersystem and !!! @ S.O.B’s. Confront early feelings of exhaustion and illness with The German. Opt not to drink any beer. Decide to establish a Franco-hip-hop cult in Coco Rosie’s honor. Vow to figure out what exactly this means the next time there’s liquor in the system. Graciously award extra rock-cred points to all those who make it to the close of !!!’s super-late, super-sweaty set. Follow greasy set with greasy food, no matter the time.

9/17 – CMJ: Rock n' roll poster show. Cream pants while approaching Jermaine Rogers, Justin Hampton and EMEK at their exhibition in the CBGB’s gallery. Chat with Hampton about New York pizza and Jermaine about the “awesome” interview on his website. Resist temptation to smuggle EMEK's Distillers poster , Jermaine's Morrissey and Hampton's QOTSA from a wall covered in a dizzying array of kick-ass prints. Miraculously escape the gallery purchaseless. Reward willpower with Hold Steady show at CBGB’s main stage. Glimpse glowing beacon of Hampton CMJ poster(just like the one he’s selling next door for $30) stapled to the club’s overpapered walls. Revel in good fortune and poster-collecting sentimentality while pulling an authentic Hampton screenprint off the walls of the most famous punk rock club in the city. Drink about six beers waiting for the Hold Steady to bore your tired ass to death. Drunkenly leave prized poster on floor of the club and curse the Yuengling gods.

9/18 – Mets vs. Braves at Shea. Secure third free bobblehead of the season (Willie Randolph, SCORE!), but still don’t get to see Pedro pitch. Watch the Mets run over the Braves in just over two hours, but forget to put life on the line with jumbo stadium hot dog. Tempt fate with raw bar and three-course seafood dinner at pop’s expense instead.

9/19-9/21 – Work crappy job. Try to speed-read book for book club. Do laundry, scrub the tub, gym obsessively and watch a lot of Iron Chef. Attempt to take a quick breather before…

9/22 – Dinner at Blue Smoke. Begin drinking at 6:30 and continue drinking upscale BBQ joint’s fine house ale until the close of the meal at around 10:00. Sample 60 percent of the appetizers on the menu and 40 percent of the entrees. Calculate later that you have consumed almost an entire pig in one sitting. Follow said gorge with requisite brownie sundae. Roll home to retire with intense pain from block of meat in stomach. Contact the rabbi and consecrate yourself a newly Kosher Jew.

9/23 – Kick off New Yorker Fest w/ readings by Stephen King and Michael Chabon. Note correct pronunciation of Michael’s last name for uninhibited use in future conversation (shay-bawn). Wonder how King’s mousy voice is so effective at churning your guts in terror and suspense. Simultaneously gag and beam at the King/Chabon mutual love fest, prompted by inevitable “influences” question from the audience.

9/24 – Orgasmic Insanity: The Pinnacle Day.
Start with the New Yorker discussion forum on “Anarchy in Animation.” Instantly fall in love with the voice of Aqua Teen Hunger Force’s Meatwad. Watch a ten-year-old-boy flabbergast the panel with the most intelligent question of the afternoon. Silently take back criticism of parents who allowed ten-year-old son to attend a forum featuring the dirty mouths of Trey Parker and Matt Stone. Vow to never again miss a new episode of Southpark and to watch The Iron Giant along with anything above ten-year-old might suggest.

Join line of indie nerds in Times Square for “Stage to Studio” discussion mediated by the New Yorker’s pop encyclopedia Sasha Frere-Jones. Hide head in hands every time the nebbish journalist flashes Wu-Tang sign at the RZA (3-4 x’s). Nearly piss yourself as the RZA nearly pisses himself over Steve Albini’s producer-as-gynecologist metaphor. Ignore Ani Di Franco. Go home. Order the Wu Tang Manual on Amazon. Move Ghost Dog to number one on your Nextflix list. Buy the new RZA/MF Doom single on iTunes. Try to find a pair of the RZA’s boxers on eBay so you can fall asleep at night with even the ass-sweat of the genius Wu Master under your pillow.

Wave goodbye to opening act Brendan Benson and the Shins as you struggle to pull together last minute crew for overpriced White Stripes concert. Use lollipop sticks to hold up your eyelids on the train out to Coney Island. Smoke for the first time in two months while running on fumes. Trip out Woodstock-stylee. Climb inside your skull and reevaluate your entire life against the soundtrack of raw blues riffs and considerably improved drumming. Snap out of coma to acknowledge Meg’s ever-adorable, if atonal solos. Try to avoid pushy, explosive drunks fist-pumping to “Seven Nation Army.” Curse the day the White Stripes became a full-fledged stadium act. Click heels together and repeat, “There’s no crowd like an indie rock crowd.”

Ride train directly to Blue and Gold and take advantage of the sales like mama taught you (pitcher=cheaper than pint). Drink until Jack White appears to you in fringe and fedora, telling you to “run along home little doggie.”

9/25 – Beginning of the end. Welcome yourself to at least a week of recovery. Miss Overindulgence: “Has your liver ever tried to eject itself through your esophagus? It isn’t pretty.”

Part II:
Casualties of War: When overplanning kills your plans.

Wallace and Gromit (9/25): Curse of the Were Rabbit Premiere: Fell to the illness/Red Sox. Detox was crucial at this stage in the game and baseball on (the Sox were on ESPN?). W&G joins Corpse Bride, The Beat My Heart Skipped and Broken Flowers on the “if it will eventually go to DVD, its sadly not a priority” list.

Deerhoof at Northsix (9/28): Fell to the illness. Best way to beat the chills isn’t in a crowd full o’ hipsters.

Katherine’s Birthday Bash (9/30): Fell to the Red Sox. The Red Sox, a medium-rare blue cheese burger, and many, many pints of Sierra Nevada. Sometimes these things are beyond human control.

Across the Narrows (10/1): Fell to the illness/Red Sox. Resisted Brooklyn-fest because of lingering sickness. Exploited the liver for Varitek at neighborhood frat-fest instead. Should have been sitting on the Green Monster for the ridiculous price of the Coney Island ticket, or at least somewhere where the view of both TVs wasn’t blocked by un-tucked button down shirts and Yankee caps.