A Vampire’s Grub Street Diet

You probably know Guillotina Vincente from her acclaimed reality show Brooklyn After Dark, but she’s recently gained a presence in the fashion world. Her macabre designs have been worn by the city’s edgiest undead, earning her the title of “couture’s architect of terror”. This week, she soared through the night on a sugar-free Red Bull high and indulged in a little drunken street food (we all do, no judgment). She’s adventurous when it comes to her culinary choices, but is happy with Dunkin Donuts, too. Read all about it in this week’s Grub Street Diet.

Thursday

I woke up earlier than usual, around 6 pm. The sun had completely gone down (thank you autumn!), and as soon as the bleariness of waking up had cleared, the need for caffeine hit me like a fucking brick wall. I hauled ass over to Blue Bottle in Park Slope, somewhere I’d never been before. It’s rare that I’m conscious early enough to get to the fancy coffee shops before they close down for the night, so despite my distaste for “being awake”, I was happy to be up early enough to try something new. I’m not a coffee snob, but I love shit that’s trendy. You know what I mean? People won’t shut the fuck up about Blue Bottle, and I want to be one of them.

They close at 6 PM, so I waited around back for someone to take the trash out around 6:30. A guy with a topknot wearing an apron over his white overalls walked towards the dumpster, and when I bit into his bearded neck, he yelled “N-no, wait! I’m on your side! I voted for Hillary!!”

I’m not afraid to be honest – not sure I know what all the hype is about with this place! It’s a bit pretentious for my taste, and a bit sour for my palette. I’ll stick with Dunkin Donuts.

After that, I was ready to get some work done. I’m currently developing a line of fingerless leather gloves, and after answering a few emails back at my apartment, I went to look at some samples my manufacturer had ready for me. Her name is Dralyla, and she’s unbelievably talented. I met her at her studio in Carroll Gardens, and we went through the collection. I’m kind of going for a Morticia Addams BDSM vibe, and so far they’re really hitting the mark.

I was ready for lunch at that point, but wanted to keep things light. I was meeting up for drinks with my friend Kiki later, and I knew there would be snacking involved.

I headed to the Whole Foods on 3rd, which was about to close, but I got there just in time to see a woman with an enamel pin on her bag that said “Powered by plants” loading up on chickpeas at the salad bar. Perfect! I followed her onto the street, and tackled her into an alley. She was surprisingly spicy! Kind of unsatisfying, too, but I love getting tipsy on a nearly empty stomach. I popped into a bodega and grabbed a sugar free Red Bull, my favorite nonalcoholic beverage. I just love the fizzy, jizzy taste!

Kiki and I met at this little underground spot called ‘Freakeasy’ in Red Hook where we’d heard they have amazing cocktails. I had a drink called the Angellus that was two parts pig’s blood, one part sweet vermouth, one part orange blossom gin, straight up. Actually, I had, like, six of them. I don’t feel the need to justify this.

Just as things were starting to get a bit raucous, we decided to get something to snack on. We ordered the gourmet children fingers plate, with fries of course. The dipping sauce was unfuckwithable. So good. I think it had anchovies in it. You can’t swing a dick without hitting some anchovies in a Brooklyn establishment these days, but I’m here for it.

We were ready to call it a night at that point, and the sun was about to start coming up, so we called an Uber and headed home. We took it as far as 7th, and I just got out and walked the rest of the way because I was feeling a bit peckish and wanted to grab a snack along the way. I hadn’t had much to eat that day, and the children finger plate wasn’t enough for me, so when a rat ran by, I couldn’t resist. Sometimes I just love gross street food when I’m drunk – sue me!!

Friday

I woke up around 9 pm with a hangover. I’m one of those people that feels the need to repent for their hangovers, even though I’ve had close to 75, 688 in my lifetime. I slipped on my sneakers and went for an 8 mile run around Prospect Park, sweating out all my regrets. And by regrets, I mean pigs’ blood.

Afterwards, I was ready to crawl back into bed, but when you’re a vampire, you can’t waste the night. I went for Dunkin Donuts this time, and it really hit the spot. Fuck you Blue Bottle!! I caught a guy eating day-old maple bars from the dumpster behind Dunks, and he went down pretty easy. I headed home with the intention of doing some work, and promptly fell asleep on the couch for 2 and a half hours. Fuck you Dunks!!

I rose around 1am and realized I needed to eat something immediately, lest the sun come up and I starve for 24 hours. Luckily it was Friday – a playground for the living in the City That Never Sleeps! I was in the mood for something a little salty and naughty, so I took a cab to Williamsburg and got out in front of the Commodore. It was super busy, so I had some options. I saw a pretty drunk guy stumble out of the bar licking nacho cheese from his fingers, and before he could light up his American Spirit, I worked my tits, grabbed him by the arm, and led him down the street. We ducked underneath the Williamsburg Bridge, and right when he thought I was going in for a crotch grab, I sunk my teeth in. Yum!

I was super full after Mr. Nacho Cheese, so I headed home and binge watched Season 1 of Succession. I am a total perv for Kendall Roy. I fell asleep on the couch around… I wanna say 5am? And was rudely awoken when the sun shot through the curtains and burned me on the face around 11. I crawled into my coffin after that.

Saturday

On Saturdays, I always meet up with my friend Thelonious to go to the “farmer’s market”. There’s an evening ceramics class in Park Slope that lets out around 8:30pm, and it’s always full of the ripest, most self-important organic produce. We met at 8:15 to catch up before we started browsing, and I grabbed a. sugar-free Red Bull on the way because I didn’t get a chance to stop by a coffee shop after waking up. When the class let out, we kept our eyes peeled. People seemed to be leaving in small groups, and unfortunately, almost everyone was wearing a big, bulky scarf around their necks. (Cute look, but possibly the worst thing about colder weather.) We managed to whet our appetites with a young virtuoso who was unironically wearing a bowler hat, but we needed something a little more substantial. We had plans to catch a live comedy show at the Comedy Cellar that started at 10pm, so we hopped on the F train, with the plan to grab something on the way.

The train was delayed, some asshole was trying to retrieve their AirPods off the tracks and shut the whole thing down, so we were running a little behind schedule and didn’t have time to grab anything before the show. With a two drink minimum at the club, I was drinking on a nearly empty stomach again, which you know I love. I had probably 4 double tequilas on the rocks. (I heard it has less sugar and doesn’t give you a hangover!)

We were pretty trashed afterwards, and didn’t want to go far to find food. We headed down the street to Ben’s, which is always busy when a show gets out. Sure enough, there was a wobbling guy who reeked of Tangerine Dream slamming slices on the sidewalk outside who was calling our name. We let him finish his pizza first, though. I’m not a total monster!!

Thelonious and I hopped on the train back to Brooklyn and parted ways. I went home to Kendall Roy, and spent another glamorous early morning falling asleep on the couch.

Sunday

Woke up hungover again. But so did the rest of New York City! The beauty of Sundays, am I right? I was feeling shamefully lazy this evening, so I just popped down to the bodega and snagged a guy who was stacking milk cartons in the back room. I washed him down with a – you guessed it!! – sugar free Rude Bull. Gimme that fizzy jizzy! After that, I was pretty much down for the count. Fuck you, person told me the thing about tequila not giving you a hangover!

After polishing off the rest of Succession, I decided to order some food in, which is actually quite an indulgence for me. It was around 4 am, so my options were somewhat limited. I went with whatever was closest and open, which was the 24-hour diner in my neighborhood. I ordered their pancake platter – even though I don’t eat them, I am a sucker for the smell of bacon and maple syrup colliding. I used Seamless to have it delivered to my apartment. I do this little trick when the delivery person gets here where I “have to go grab my wallet, just one sec” and then shout “can you close the door behind you so the cat doesn’t escape?” And then scootch back and dig in. Slurp! So naughty. It was straight to the coffin for me after that.

Monday

I was determined to bounce back from my mildly self-destructive weekend with vigor, but the sad truth is that now, as a woman of 278, my hangovers tend to last two days at least. Even so, I had work to do (“work to do”… I work for myself, I could’ve taken the day off if I wanted, but I didn’t feel I’d earned a three-day weekend, necessarily). I responded to some emails, and then took a conference call that lasted a bit longer than expected. By that point, I was starving and in major need of caffeine. I popped over to the Dunk’s dumpster and grabbed a jaded late-night employee who was smoking a Kool out back.

After that, I went on a stroll and ended up in Gowanus. When I walked by Dinosaur BBQ, I knew I needed something salty and fatty to soak up the lingering tequila and soothe that SFRB comedown. A 300-lb smoky, sweat-soaked pitmaster sounded mouthwateringly delicious.

After allowing myself some time to digest, I met up with Kiki to work out. She’s been into these group fitness classes, and when we were drunk the other night, I agreed to go to one with her. Today it was Tomb-a, a group dance class, which made me feel like a complete fucking idiot. Something about dancing in a room with a bunch of vampires when you know you’re not gonna get laid… it just seems like a waste to me.

I was determined to eat healthy for dinner, but unfortunately because of the hours I keep, it can be hard to find nutritious choices at 4 AM. I tell myself every Monday that I’m going to stock up so I can keep myself fed throughout the week, but as New Yorkers all know, the ongoing issue with this is – say it with me – fridge space. It’s easier to just grab as I go when it comes to meals, but this doesn’t really work out when I’m feeling lazy. Maybe I should subscribe to one of those meal services – HelloFlesh, or whatever. I headed down the 24 hour Planet Fitness on Flatbush and hoped for the best. I managed to snag a smoothie-slugging beefcake who was getting his flex on before the crack of dawn. I got some vitamins, a little protein – altogether could’ve been a worse dinner!

I finished off the day with a hot lemon water (for my health), and hit the coffin. Anybody have a recommendation for a show that is exactly like Succession?

Tuesday

It was my birthday on Tuesday! My 278th started out with a leisurely wake up, and a stroll over to Dunk’s. I treated myself to a plump NYPD officer who had a fistful of Munchkins and a bellyful of blueberry coffee, extra cream. I love a little something sweet first thing in the morning. Back at my apartment, I Facetimed some faraway friends and family and got into the Amaro while doing so. To digest, naturally.

After that, I met up with some friends to do what we do on my birthday every year, which is go bowling at Archaic Arcade. It’s dorky, but we have a great time, and it’s been an ongoing tradition for about 68 years. We drank cheap beers and snacked on hot, salty toenails, and then my friend Alastair surprised me with a magnum of Veuve Cliquot. We popped it in the alley, taking swigs straight from the huge bottle. I nearly chipped a tooth doing this, which is something I have to be especially careful about. A chipped tooth means lopsided blood sucking, which isn’t fun for anyone involved.

After that we headed over to The Ten Bells on the Lower East Side for some fine wine and self-righteous sommeliers. We downed a couple bottles of Georgian Cab, some effervescent Zafa red, and countless other bottles I can’t quite recall. I twirled my hair and asked the somm to take me down to the cellar and pick out a reserve bottle because it was my birthday, and managed to have a little snack. I love a dark, damp cellar. So comforting.

We walked home over the Williamsburg Bridge and stopped by my favourite little all-night dive bar, The Vein, for some very regrettable tequila shots. I made it home after that, and fell asleep in my coffin with my platform boots still on. Happy birthday to me.