Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Dirty 30th

“I don’t need a birthday cause I buy myself all the presents I need. And because of my drinking, they’re often a surprise.”

So, obviously, I'm back to drinking. Been back for awhile but nowhere as extreme as I used to be.

Except for the weekend of November 28th.

I turned 30 and figured I would drink a little more than usual. I planned on making it a small affair (vastly different from my 29th birthday Drink Debacle where I talked to people I didn't remember and gave a speech on the merits of soup). That plan kinda worked out.

What I didn't plan on was the friends I invited. They are my usual NYC drinking pals. Let's just call em Darth Fader (Lord of the Fifth), Shots, Drink King and Drink Twin.

About how many beers later and random tequila/patrons shots later, I was being dragged away from an unattractive girl in a club that I didn't remember, almost losing a 20 in the subway and passing out on my cousin's inflatable air mattress.

So, the usual. Good times.

If you want to see pics, hit me up or go to my Facebook page and look under my 30th BDay Night.


Saturday, November 28, 2009

my 30th birthday

I obviously need to update this with past stories. Will do eventually. In the meantime, I'm back (sorta)...

Monday, October 19, 2009

Saturday, August 8, 2009

What I hear...

...after I've been drinking heavily and am going home alone and just think to myself.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Coming back hard on all fronts....

in the meantime between time....

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

It's coming...

Got posts ready in my head but have yet to put them down, including my friend's going away party and yesterday's shenanigans. Until then let these 2 snippet I took yesterday afternoon and about 2 weeks ago tide you over.

UPDATE- I apologize for the crappy quality of these vids. Got an actual camera so the quality should improve moderately. Still, I think the grainy work gives it some emotion.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Erin Go Bleargh Blog

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!!!
Or is it Merry St. Patrick’s Day...I can never tell with these holidays.

Whatever. Welcome to another day where you have an excuse to get drunk.

Lucky you.


St. Paddy's Day has the distinction of being my 4th favorite yet most hated drinking holiday. Before I come to how it accomplishes this miraculous dichotomous existence I guess I should give a quick run-down on my Top Three.
My number one with a bullet drunky holiday is New Year’s Eve. Basically, a day to drink and forget about everything in the past year.

Yes. That’s correct. You are socially allowed to black out and be an ass for a night. Cheers.

My third favorite is Artbor Day. Drinking and trees just go together. But only wine. Drinking beer on this day is pretty low-brow, folks.

My second favorite holiday is Cinco de Mayo. It’s great strictly off the ignorance factor. Most people really don’t know what it is about and just use it as an excuse to drink.

I’ve heard that it is Mexican Independence Day. WRONG. That’s September 16th.

I’ve been told it’s a scam to move those extra bottles of Coronas. WRONG.
Well, kinda wrong.

Cinco is actually an observance of the Mexican army beating the French at the Battle of Puebla in 1862. I know you are thinking "Big deal. Who hasn't beat the French? They haven't been hard since Napoleon, son."
Well, the Mexican army beat them while hugely outmanned and outgunned. So it’s basically a party to celebrate Mexico’s version of 300. With sombreros.

Leonidas is Mexican and the Persians are the French. Work with me.

This is also one of the reasons why I like St. Paddy’s day. NO ONE (except the random official Irish people that you CANNOT understand). All right. I’ll tell you.
It’s a celebration of St. Patrick’s death. He was the patron saint of Ireland.
Why? I don’t know. I’m only Irish after 1 am, people. Anyway, it’s a celebration death day and feast day in his honor. We are having a giant drunken wake for the patron saint of Ireland.

HUUUUUGGGGGGGEEEEEE Boozehound. Like Mother Teresa

I also have this day as one of my favorite days because of drunk Irish girls. Excuse me. Lasses. Gotta love redheads, even with the pale skin.


Okay, let’s be honest here. I LOVE all drunk girls.

Now why do I hate this day? Simple.

These dudes.

Every single year it seems I get into a fight/shoving match/altercation with Bostonians.
Not that I have problems with Boston folks. One of my closest pals in college was from Boston. We get along fine most of the rest of the year, outside of baseball season. I even respect their comic dedication to their sports teams. It’s ridiculous but kinda cute.

But like clockwork, every year on the 17th I meet some dude that pronounces bar like “bah” and says “wicked” a lot and we get into a dust-ups.
Hell, it happens even when I’m somewhat sober. I was on my way to the strip last year to meet up with Spin, Lazer, Rhinox, Maubz and Darth Fader, Dark Lord of the Fifth at the fabulous Imperial Palace. On my way there I got into a minor shoving match with this loudmouth Southie. The only thing that saved him was this small Asian man shaking his head at me, telling me to move on.

Like Egg Shen. Without the booze and lightning.

On the plus side though, me and Spin did accomplish a day goal of killing a Heineken mini-keg.

We carried it like a boombox at times.

I realize this will probably happen anywhere I go. I’ll probably run into a random Boston dude in Dublin, Ireland saying car like cah (I mean I met a Brooklyn guy randomly in Tokyo-“Dude, I’m from Park Slope.”)
The worst year was the one where I was almost stuck in Boston. Let’s not even start that trip down memory lane.
Maybe it’s because I’m a black guy with an Irish name. Maybe that’s just asking for a fight? I don’t wear stupid buttons, hats, etc. though. Why do Celtics fans have a mad on for me on this day? Is it the “gravy-face”?

Maybe I just need to work on my swing.

Anyway, have a great St. Pat’s Day and drink one for me.

As for me, I’ll be at Mcmullan’s Irish Pub just up the road for a few hours after work. Gotta get my nachos on but you can come for the Guinness and Sangria.
My time there is dependent on if it is filled with crazies, if it is too smoky, if Vu-2 (an U-2 cover band) is performing or if I get involved in a Bean Town brawl.
My money is on the latter but maybe I’ll enjoy the luck of the Irish this year.

Erin Go Bragh, biatches.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Fiesta de Aniversario

It’s a random Thursday in a month so that can only mean one thing- Up All Day Art Show time. YAY!!!!

Really, this is one of the few times in the month I get some actual g-damn culture in this town. There is like a vacuum of intelligence here that I only experience outside of the circle of my friends. I’m still trying to figure out if that is it just being a by-product of this being a tourist town or do people actively go out of their way to remain ignorant.
Don’t get me wrong- I experience this in many places but it seems much more prevalent here for some reason.

Anyway, so, art show means Caramel at Bellagio- Home of the Four Dollar Sprite. I invite M. Santos to roll with me because he wants to hang out with grown-ups and have real convos and you WILL NOT get that almost at all at my house but I don’t hear back from him. His loss. This night is going to be worth it just for the about 30 minutes I experience in the middle of the evening.

I greet UAD2 at the door and run into UAD1 on my way in. It’s pretty sparse at this point at Caramel because I made it from work in record time. The only soul I recognize is Capt. Sparrow, who is getting his Peter Parker on. We stand around and look at art and talk. I feel very hip and grown up at that point. Highly classy.

The last time I was classy.

As more people came in, I doodled on some paper, gave my greetings and drank my tasty non-alcoholic beverages. Good slow sober times.
Eventually I bump into KITTYKAT engaged in deep conversation with this young woman. KITTYKAT introduced me and then went to “find UAD1.”


I turned and proceeded to make small talk with this young woman who I will call Sharer. She is a decent looking woman and seemed very nice. She said she appreciated having a conversation with someone and liked that I was willing to communicate.
This is when my 30 minutes of “What the Frak?” happened.
I call this woman the Sharer because she proceeded to share everything with me.
I mean EVERYTHING. I was learning shite about this woman I didn’t even ask. Likes, dislikes, personal history for the past 8 years. I felt like a potential employer. My contribution to this conversation was very little, if at all.

KITTYKAT had set me up.

This chick was not just talking but also suggesting. Like, when someone tells you they always wanted to do something with someone, the “someone” is, 90% of the time, you. Yeah. That kind of suggesting.

But it wasn’t happening cap'n for a number of reasons, not the least being I was sober and don’t get involved with married folks. I played the gentleman and walked to her car and promised to look her up on one of the social networking sites online, which I did. (Hopefully, she is reading this and knows that we are cool if she is a bit talky)
I return to the party and KITTYKAT is laughing. I was fooled yet again by the midwest charm, donchaknow?
I say in the back of my head “A blood feud was begun that day, woman....”

Let the Kumite begin!

I also learned that I might had met her at an earlier event but I was drunk and occupied with making another friend at the time who is at this event tonight as well. Eventually a few more people, like Spin, Smashley and Smoove had shown up and we are off to The Bank.

I had been to The Bank maybe two previous times and both times are a haze of porn stars, liquor, fake boobs, dancing with brides-to-be, protecting their bride’s maids from being roofied and losing my friends for the night somewhere in the process. This time would be different.

We arrive and immediately are ushered to the VIP section above the dancefloor. You know, away from the peasants.

Dance, plebes! Dance!

It is at this point that I make the sober connection that I had also been here when this place was Light about two years ago. I don’t admit that to anyone until now.
The VIP is nice and we get a bottle and like 2 rounds of shot. I get more cranberry juice. Gotta stay regular.

Don't touch, Sean....

I eventually get bored of not dancing (my main complaint about any VIP) and make my way downstairs to the main floor.

Plus, I spotted potential vics...

As I’m standing there swaying to the beat, I realize something- I kind of hate clubs. As I said in an earlier post, it’s pretty much the same shite with just different window dressing.

I also realized that when you are sober the potential people to dance with is whittled down. Pretty girls aren’t dancing with you (I mean, not me but definitely you) because they are either taken, having a “girls’ night out”, waiting for someone to buy them high-priced drinks or just playing games.
Oddly enough the unattractive ones are doing the same thing except for waiting for someone to buy them drinks. (This reminds me of a funny story with two of my boys hanging out...e-mail me so I can tell you) I get bored standing around refusing to lower my dancing/dry humping standards and make my way back to the VIP.
I run into UAD1 and Kittykat who are leaving. It’s about midnight at that point I think.* I go to their car and get my jacket. I decide to walk home and see if I get stop by cops or asked for drugs.

Normally where it starts.

I pass by Diablo’s and I like the music so I go in to use the facilities. You know, the bathroom with the lil stick figures with horns.

That's Spanish and evil for "place to pee."

Unfortunately, the upstairs is closed for the night but I enter the bathroom anyway and encounter dude breaking a Man Law in the bathroom- using the center urinal in a row of 3. I take his man card and tell him he can apply to get it back in 45 business days.

Tough love. He’ll learn.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Drinkin' from DIXIE's Cup (The Dichotomy of Drinking pt. 2 of 2)

(Apologies but shite has been real in the field for a minute for me- I got more coming this weekend)

I was bored two Saturdays back and had no clue as to what to do besides hit McMullan’s. I had a friend in town but he was equally clueless about the next move and his actions were dependent on the movements of a larger group. Besides, last time we hung out, we ended up at a club, I hit on a mother/sister combo at a hotel restaurant and I ended the night looking like this {ref pic}
Needless to say I feared for my sobriety and the innocence of moms and daughters in Vegas for fun. Irregardless, I had to get out of the house so I twittered and hope for the best.

My friend UAD1 was going out to the grand opening of the club/bar at the Hooters Hotel/Casino. I had been there maybe three times and all I remember is
1)I ALWAYS lose my signal as soon as I step through the door (this may be purposeful)
2) The bartender made powerful drinks
3)That was the half-way point of the night of my old roommate’s birthday celebration where I spent a lot, got wrecked and tried to fight everyone on the southern end of The Strip.
Good times, good times.

UAD1 and his wife, KITTYKAT, scoop me up and we navigate our way through a labyrinthine route to the parking garage. We get on the elevator and I immediately think “Projects. I’m back on a PJ elevator.” Bare walls, fucked up ceiling and I’m just searching for the familiar smell of urine. I am literally transported back home during the harrowing 3 floor ride down to the casino proper.
The whole time we were praying we made it down safely I thought “Man. My brother would like this joint.”

Don't let the scarf fool you, he's hood.

We get to the ground level where your vision is assaulted by the familiar orange glow to everything that is Hooters. We make our way through the slot machines and meet up with Smashley, her boyfriend and the late arriving Roberto Suave in front of Dixie’s Dam Bar.

Why Dam and not Damn? Because fuck ‘em that’s why.

As everyone makes their last minute wardrobe adjustments I prepare my fifty to slip to the bouncer in front of the long line at Dixie’s. I mean it is the opening night, right?
We get our wristbands and that’s when I realize there is an open bar.
As I raise my clenched fists to the skies, I scream “Curse you, Lords of Kobol!” (I’m a geek-sue me)
Suave asks what I’m up in arms about and I tell him my year long goal of being booze free. He looks at me like I’m from another planet and we enter the establishment.

Everything is wood and new. I mean, I really expect to see sawdust on the floor. There is some chick in “the Beer Garden” with a mic trying to keep the beginning party pumped.

I'm pumped. You pumped?

There is no DJ, just one of those newfangled jukeboxes. (I’ll get back to the error of this as pointed out to me by UAD1 later)
I immediately head to the bar to get some soda. Somewhat packed but the bartender is nice and doesn’t give me a quizzical look like I normally get when I just order the mixer part of a REAL drink. She got a good tip for that.

I get my drink and stand in the dance area just enjoying the scene. Such a smorgasbord of sights to bear witness to. There are the black people who we’ll just call The Inkwell for now, in their corner of the room. There is the SUPER drunk guy and his mildly embarrassed wife. He is dancing and I’m encouraging. There are the guys who belong here, ie drinking beer and keeping it real hill-billy. There are the douchebags because there are ALWAYS douchebags. There is the short dude who looks like Dog the Bounty Hunter with a stupid ass hat.

I would be remiss if forget to mention the Elvis twins- one guy is obviously an Elvis impersonator in a gold suit, his pal is a black guy in a very similar suit.

I decide to call the black guy Jerome in my head for the remainder of the night in honor of the member of The (motherfuckin’) Time. You know, Morris Day's manservant?

Dude on the right. Singin' Jungle Love.

They somehow have a drunk groupie following them-this older brunette- and at some point Jerome and I lock eyes. We look at the chick and he winks at me.
I am sure an old, dry, disgusting Devil’s 3-Way is poppin’ off later with Elvis keeping his glasses on and saying “Thank you very much” a lot- shudder)

Sorta like this but nekkid. With a sweaty black guy.

My two favorite moments in Dixie’s though occur when the servers/dancers dance on the bar. (I have to pause and say I blame Coyote Ugly-the bar and movie- for this ubiquitous bar behavior. I mean, I enjoy it but is it necessary? Just serve me my drink) They are dress like a mix of NASCAR drivers/wrestler/super-heroes/strippers and for all I complain, it is AWE-SOME.

This could bring about world peace.

My favorite is the blond who looks like a character in a comic book. (To be fair, the one I do want to see dancing doesn’t- guess she is the boss superhero/stripper lady) They have the routines down and it’s a good diversion from getting bored.

Especially, when we are watching the redhead dancer grind on the bar. She always keep most of her face covered. Me and the crew spend the better part of the even trying to figure out if she is a post/pre-op tranny, a straight up dude or just an ugly chick. KITTYKAT swears she sees the tell-tale sign of a package. I can neither confirm nor deny the validity of this. I hope I have vid of that on my phone. Gonna have to check it.
I think I would have liked the whole “wild women dancing on the bar” thing more if I was drunker but I would also have probably did some crazy shit as well, like dance wildly, so there you go. Which brings me to my second favorite part there...

For the majority of the time we are there, the Jukebox is playing a combination of country songs/’80s hits and generally music I, as a black man, shouldn’t know according to society’s prejudices.
Fuck that, son, and fuck society.
I’m shaking my ass and belting out the hits. I’m getting curious glances from The Inkwell and a few good ol boys, particularly when Kid Rock comes on, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m enjoying myself and my friends are enjoying the spectacle. Suave even joins me and he is a pretty damn good dancer.
Then it happens.

Me, UAD1 and Suave put in a request for some hip-hop and r&b earlier. I guess some of the members of The Inkwell did too because suddenly Play by David Banner comes on and the whole dynamic of the venue SHIFTS. The people who were just shouting out lyrics a few minutes ago melt into the sidelines and the floor becomes predominantly black, with a few sprinkles of larger white women (because, well...that’s just how it is).
Me and Suave continue dancing and I turn around to talk to UAD1. When I turn back Suave is gettin’ his grind on with a member of The Inkwell.
I’m beaming at this point and just enjoy the next 2 or 3 songs before the music changes again and we leave.
This is when the observation that a DJ is vital because they can gauge the mood of the whole party and not just factions. The DJ's role is to keep the whole party rolling and having fun. This jukebox bullshit only works at pool halls.

As we go to return to the project elevators, we make a pit stop at the bathroom. That’s when I notice the two framed collections of Hooters’ Girls. I go through them with KITTYKAT and we start inventing backstories for each of the ladies. Strangely a lot of inappropriate touching and Daddy issues in my tales.* I also learn what names NOT to give my future daughters.

Smile if you had a creepy uncle.

We leave the hotel of hot wings and I request to get dropped off at my Irish version of Cheers before returning to home and potential noise. As we are driving back, we notice an exchange between cars. First thought, drug deal. KITTYKAT agrees and I think that that might be a slick way to get around the cops if I’m ever forced into that line of work.

I say adios to the Dynamic (Married) Duo for the night and enter McMullan’s. I order my final Sprite of the night and take in the remainder of a rugby game. Excuse me, rugby MATCH. I really want to play that sport one day but first maybe I should gain a few pounds.
There is also a new smoking hot bartender trainee there. Need to get more intel on that front....not that I’m going to do anything but it’s just good information to have.
I leave and enter into the emo-fest that is my home. I shoot the shit for about five minutes before I decide I’ve had enough of watching Call of Duty.

I crash with the haunting visions of gold Elvis love hurting my brain before a blond superhero/stripper rescues me. She is quickly knocked out of orbit by her redhead she-male archenemy who proceeds to give me a lap dance. I wake up in a cold sweat.


God. I could use a cold brewski right about now.

* Don't get me wrong. I'm sure most of those girls are there just making a living and have NO issues. Or just REALLY like hot wings.

It’s TAO Time (The Dichotomy of Drinking pt.1 of 2)

Thursday night rolls around again and I’m at home about to enjoy a phone date (and yeah, it’s EXACTLY what you think). It was a good one but I also just wanted to get out of Emo-Ville for awhile. I see a twitter alert from two buddies- UAD1 and Capt. Sparrow- about a straight shot into TAO for the night. I’ve been to TAO before and remember it, kinda, being a good time so I’m like “Bet. I’ll roll.” Plus, I know UAD1 is also taking a break from the liks so I’ll have someone to be sober with.

They pick me up in front of my local pub and we are off.

We arrive at the Venetian and the line for TAO is LOOOONNNGGG. Real long. Luckily, the worldly Capt. Sparrow has an in so we just pick up the remainder of our party, including Smoove, and slide right in with drink tickets. He is such a good guy that he proceeds to grab about four girls and take them to the entrance as well. Truly, a gentleman and a scholar.

We go upstairs and hit the bar for delicious water and Red Bull. I’ve been at this place before but this is the first time I actually notice the second level with the frosted doorways- that I’m assuming is for VIPs.

Now, how did I miss that before?
Ahhhh. That’s right. I was bent.

I stand around for a bit with the crew at the bar before I decide to hit the dance floor. This place was CROWDED and hot. Plus, and I can’t believe I am typing this, but there were too many girls. It’s blasphemy to say, I know.

I didn't mind this girl though. HEH.

As I’m standing in the middle of the jam-packed dance floor trying to maybe move my arms and not contemplating that maybe this is how my forebears felt on the Amistad, I begin to realize that you truly do see the EXACT same people every time you go out.
I don’t mean necessarily the same folks (unless you live in a small town) but the same types. These are the different types of people I noticed on Thursday night....
(ignore the grainy pics- they don't relate at all to the topics- just what I snapped there)

DRUNK, GIGGLY INDIAN GIRLS- This is a group of roaming Indian girls all holding hands. There are usually between 3 and 5 of them and they are all drunk. One girl is always drunker than her friends. This it the one who will try to grab you and dance with you while her friends calm her down. Don't be fooled. You have a 3% chance of actually succeeding with this group(there are rumors of success in Upstate New York and New Jersey but a citation is needed). This is a girls night out. Avoid it.

BACKPACK/DJ TYPE DUDE- This guy looks either like he really doesn't belong in the spot or is working too hard to be there. Easily spotted, he might be wearing a Kangol or some sort of BAPE attire. Basically, he looks like either Kanye/Pharell/Lupe or one of them dudes. He also says "Excuse me" or "Pardon, brother" when he is trying to get through the crowd.
Warning- DO NOT ENGAGE IN SMALL TALK OR "BUILDING". This will eat up your WHOLE night.

These are people who are a little too old to be in the club. They usually end up there because they are staying at that hotel and got free entry. They won't stick around long- usually only for two drinks. Dancing with these awkward groups of people can be fun though. They are sillier on vacay and willing to buy rounds. FUN!!!

It's like Where's Waldo for adults tonight.

RANDOM WOMEN PLAYING GAMES- Not talking about guy-girl games. I'm talking about actual contests. Most of the time it is a bridal party trying to spice up the night to combat the liquor and Chippendale glitter on their face although I did encounter 2 single girls who were engaged in this at TAO. Or I'm going to assume they were involved in some sort of picture scavenger hunt since they dragged me into a picture with another black dude. Hope I got them some extra points....

COUGARS- Not gonna even go into this one. Suffice to say they are attracted to me for some reason. I have NO IDEA why they think I'm good prey. Maybe because I look young or like I need someone to buy me sneakers. Who knows?

BLACK "GUY NOD" GUYS- This guy appears in all clubs but more so in two situations-
a) when there is a large amount of drunk women
b) when cougars are on the hunt and dance with either you or him
The nod is a subtle way of either saying "Yeah. WE GOT THIS, SON!" or "Wow. She is nuts." Sometimes it's a combination of both those things. Either way, we are enjoying the evening at this point.

BLACK GIRLS WITH ATTITUDES- They only exists in clubs that are primarily filled with Caucasians and their numbers are decreasing annually. They direct their attitudes towards black guys and white girls dancing together. I've had anger directed at me that particular night for no reason other than just STANDING next to a white woman. Not talking. Not dancing. STANDING. DOING NOTHING. I just laughed.

Quit eye-fucking me and just come over and talk. Literally, five women stared me full in the face and placed a hand on my chest as they walked towards the bar. I mean, that's cool but if you want me to talk to you, SPEAK UP! Being coy ain't cute.
Neither is eating just salad but that's another post.

ANGRY DUDE WORKING- Mostly black guys fit into this category. Basically, they are pissed that they have to pick up cups and glasses you left around. I understand their rage because I wouldn't want to pick up people's cigarette butts. BUT, that's your job, you know the club is packed and why are you surprised that drunk people act like asses?

This is the mother hen of the group. She has the best interests (somewhat) of her friend in mind. She is trying protect her girls from slimy guys, which I'm fully in support of. The problem is that she is usually way TOO gung-ho about this task. The protection she lays out sometimes comes from jealousy as well and this is not cool. She is willing to shut down dudes for you because no one is talking to her. (The linebacker subset is for the larger ladies who just push you away- literally)
But she is a necessary evil to combat the next type.

Another category that I won't get too deep into. You know exactly who I am talking about. You will encountering at least 3 of these guys in the course of your evening.
Guys tend to meet the subset of the "Trying to Be Your Pal" Guy. They pop up with frequency when you share even one word with an attractive female. You can be asking her for the time and the next thing you know you have a guy at your elbow trying to snake his way into her heart. No, not heart. Pants.
What's really bad is this dude isn't friendly and won't acknowledge you as his in.
Word of Advice- If you are this guy and you see me out, DON'T ATTEMPT IT. I will shut you down and say I don't know you at all. You will be embarrassed and have to ask Mystery what went wrong...

RANDOM GAY COUPLE- Always a random gay couple in a "straight" club. Normally, not even an issue, particularly with lesbians. You notice but keep it moving and focus on your night. Only time there is an issue is when one or both of the people in the couple get under the false impression that they are about to become Milk for the night.
Listen dude/dudette, I don't give a fuck what you do. Have fun. Life is short. Enjoy yo'self. Don't lecture me. Get a drink and back down.

GRIND AND MAKEOUT AT BAR COUPLE- May be my favorite type in the club. They are enjoying themselves fully and you have to applaud that. The only time it is a problem is when they are blocking you from getting a drink. Most of the time they are cool though and will either move or order for you. Long as they aren't too drunk. Or humping.

SHOTS!WHOO!VEGAS! (or whatever city you are in)- This phenomenon only occurs in places people visit a great deal. Las Vegas is the Mecca for this behavior. (Mecca, oddly, never has this happen there)
Basically, you have people getting drunk and misbehaving because the people that know them are FFFAAAAARRRRRR away.

Oddly, there were two types of people I didn't see that night. I saw no MINOR CELEBRITIES. This is rare because you can't go to any bathroom and not run into Wilmer Valderrama, some chick from Dannity Kane or a wrestler. Also I didn't see and DRUNK MAKING OUT WITH MULTIPLE DUDES CHICKS. To be fair, I did leave early....

That about sums up the sights and sounds of the night. (outside of the group of short Mexican girls about to get in fight with a dude pushing through the crowd with a lit cigarette- he was an asshole)

Someone is about to get cut in this crowd.

Another short, easily remembered night made longer by the absence of alcohol.


Stay tuned for the second half where I recount my Saturday inside Hooters Casino at the grand re-opening of Dixie's. Should be up tomorrow or tonight.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

My Favorite Fictional Lush Today- Hank Moody

When I wrote the Starbuck entry, I received some good feedback and suggestions for future entries to this category of my blog. (please leave comments, folks) One was from a Twitter friend and she nominated a character from a show I had never watched- Californication. She usually has good taste (except for liking LOST but, alas, we can't all be perfect like me) so I went to learn more. I rented the first season from my library and sat back to enjoy.


Besides her character choice being perfect, the show itself was damn good. Good character development and dynamics in their relationships. They were flawed like real people and I was actually engaged by what was going on. (By the way, Hank Moody might be based on Henry Bukowkski, an alcoholic German American poet and author, who wrote a fair bit about Los Angeles)

So off of Knitwit983's recommendation, I present to you the bullet points on Hank Moody.



Birth Name:Henry "Hank" Moody
Birth Date:Sometime in the 1960s
Birth Place: New York, NY
Occupation:Author/ Dad/ Philanderer/ Drinker

Californication revolves around Hank Moody. He is a writer and novelist who has had some success and even a film made out of one of his books. He, of course, hated the movie. Hank also happens to be a heavy drinker, sex addict and is suffering from writer's block. The writer's block has been going on for years since he moved out to the hedonistic paradise of Los Angeles.

Already I like Hank. Can see where if I didn't take steps and/or continue to take steps I could be Hank in the long run. But get to the nitty-gritty of Hank's "finer" points, antics and actions. I don't condone them all but it makes for good television.

- Continues to engage in hitting on his ex-girlfriend Karen while she is engaged to another man. Sometimes directly in front of dude (To be fair to Hank though, they have a kid together, her fiancee is a stiff, she only half-heartedly fights off his advances and she looks like this...)

Hot in a vaguely Eastern-Euro, rocker mom sort of way.

- Is actually a good dad to his daughter and will bend over backwards for her. While not lying to her about the realities of the world, he is protective.

- Pulls off that whole "white guy using sassy black guy/gal" talk very admirably. I usually am not a big fan of it but Duchovny actually sells those lines. I actually cracked up when he told his agent to "Kiss my black ass" and thanked the aforementioned fiancee by saying "That's mighty white of you." Good stuff.

- Sleeps around. A LOT. But isn't a complete asshole about it and is usually honest and upfront about it.

That's just how he rolls, yo.

- Had sex with a 16 year-old fan who punched him in the face quite a bit during the lovemaking. He didn't know how old she was and it turned out she was the daughter of his ex's new fiancee. Small world.

Gotta check I.D. like club bouncers, fellas.

- Saves aforementioned teen from a pervy schoolteacher. Okay, it was a set-up but he went to protect her anyway.

- Performed in a Devil's Threesome to help his pal get some from a lady while he was estranged from his wife who was having a lesbian affair with his assistant. That's a wingman for that ass.

- Reunited the same guy with his wife at the wedding of his ex and her new fiancee. Very painful but Hank pulled it off.

- Also, stopped the teenage daughter from ruining the day in her own drunken fashion and got punched in the process. (He did deserve it but still...)

- Writes a blog about his life and the deficiencies with society at large. KINDA familiar.

- Punched out a guy for calling his ex a "cunt" at a party after her fiancee did nothing. Maybe my favorite Hank moment.

- When his daughter had her first period, Hank fought with a couple in the middle of a store to get the last box of tampons. Hilarity but I nominate him for Father of the Year for that one. (He'll lose to Liam Neeson's character in Taken but he'll still get a nod from me)

Sure Hank has his flaws. He's a bit of a womanizer, snorts blow off a hooker's ass, forgot while he didn't call a woman back, became a pedophile (by accident) and can be so honest that it hurts. But he is trying to change and make things better for the people he cares about and is fiercely loyal. Hank may stumble along the way but he will ultimately attempt to do the right thing.

He is like Batman. Just drunker and with less gadgets or a homo-erotic relationship with a sidekick. (Then again I haven't seen the second season yet...)

He's the hero we deserve, but not the one we need right now.

So It Continues...

For the fifth or maybe it's the sixth night/day, my roommate's drinking and eating and not giving a crap about the general reality of affairs continues. I find it amusing that I can leave the house in the morning or afternoon and come home to a completely new female face sitting on the couch. Plus, I sometimes get free food out of the whole she-bang.

All of this is inspiring me to work harder to get out of the spot.

I mean he is nice enough but this depressing behavior even when he does have fun can seriously harsh my sober life buzz. Additionally, he gets pissy with others (not me) and that quickly annoys.

So, I hope he enjoys this time of drinking, having fun and being unemployed. It usually doesn't last but maybe he is one of those people that has figured out how to keep it going.

Me? I have to deal with this thing called adulthood and reality.

The 24 packs in my fridge yell for me.
They say "Come. Drink us, brother. Forget your problems for a mere marvelous, miraculous moment." (like the alliteration?)

But I continue to resist their siren song. I would like to think I'm better for it.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

No Lyin', Just Cougars, I'm Clear, Oh My....

Three day weekend. Well, really a two day weekend for me since I work on Saturdays. Either way, an extra day to pretend like you are going to catch up on things to be done but really an excuse to sit around and accomplish nothing or go out and party for an extra night. Most likely, with mass quantities of alcohol consumed.

I mean that's what Abe Lincoln and the rest of the crew were all about, right?


So, here I am, sober, with a three-day weekend. Not planning on leaving the house, my Valentine's is far away and I'm ashy. Plus, I have worked to be accomplished. I think the old white men who ruled this country would want me to get some stuff done and I'm pretty sure the black guy we got now would as well.

I missed my friend's party for her birthday on Friday (sorry, Red) and I was committed to getting things done. Had just came back from work on Saturday and was actually busting some good stuff out. During the night, as I was slowing down, my roommate asked if I wanted to go to the Yardhouse with him and a lady friend. Mind you, it's Valentine's Day and the last thing I wanted to be was a third wheel to a couple.....
But, free food. I was in.
His girl comes home and we go out.

This is the part of the story where I tell those unfamiliar with the place a little about Yardhouse. Nice place. Food is good if a lil pricey at times. Hot 20-30 year olds roam the place and the older ladies come down to drink a beer or three before they go upstairs to Blue Martini aka The Cougar Den.


Oh. Did I mention this place has the world's largest selection of draft beers?

Some of that WORLD beer.

I still went because a)free food and b)knew this would be a challenge I would need to face. I remember the last time I puked came when I went to this place to begin my night and Irish car-bombed myself into oblivion.

I had to face down this demon. This oh so delicious demon....

My roommate orders food and spends most of the time complaining how he is the only one drinking because I'm not and his friend is driving us. He is drinking some Sam Adams Cherry Wheat which just smells good and has a name that makes me think of dessert. I want a drink but stop myself and my roommate continues to drink as he repeats
"I'm Samuel Jackson and this is my beer! Mmmm-mmm, bitch!"
That helps the sobriety go down easier.

One of these guys looks like my roomie. Guess which one?

We go home, he gets emo and another Saturday is liquor free. Yay, me!

Sunday rolls around and I stay in the whole day as my roommate takes another girl and his friend to the 'House again and a few other spots. I'm sleeping when they arrive home but wake up quickly from the ruckus they are causing. Normally, on a Sunday night I would get up and say "Shut the FUCK UP!" but it is a three day weekend and everyone sounds like they are in a good mood so I let it ride. I turn over and pass out.

Monday rolls around and I'm up and everyone is in a good mood except the roommate but whatever. I'm trying to do some work (really just watching this over and over) when I start to hang with the roommate's friend, M. Santos.* I get along good with this kid and we can shoot the shit for awhile. He is waiting for my roommate to drop him off on the way to an interview. The girl is waiting for her older friend to pick her up.
A friend who has told her, after meeting me for maybe a total of seven minutes, "I want to bone him."

This friend is 40.

Yeah. This is familiar.

Now, don't get me wrong. There is NOTHING wrong with an experienced lady. I have "hung out" with a few in my time and enjoyed myself. And she wasn't bad looking.

But I wasn't going to do it.

There are numerous reasons for this (one more important than the others) but I'll share three with you.

1) She was coming to pick up her 19 year-old friend. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with this. If said 19 year-old is very mature for her age, I can see it. This is not the case. On top of that, you are forty and still living at home? Ehhhh. I really shouldn't be one to judge but that isn't in my gameplan.

2) She said "I want to bone him." That's what she said. Verbatim. Not as a joke either. For some reason, that is very rarely a turn-on phrase for me. Only works if you say it in a joking manner-not seriously as you eye-rape me.

3) I was stone-cold sober. Okay, that shouldn't be a factor but I have realized that being tipsy has impaired my judgment greatly in the past. I have done asinine things before because of booze or as a result of using booze as an excuse to act like an ass. I knew if I went forward with this a)I would causing myself a big headache in the longer run and b)I wouldn't have the flimsy excuse of liquor to fall back on.

My liver thanked me, my penis hated me and my brain and heart said "Good Job."
My male friends (mostly) looked at me incredulously and my female friends (mostly) said I made a good move and that's when I had that epiphany on Twitter-

Men understand when you do something and women get when you don't do something.

So, I guess I'm learning a little something by not drinking. And, as Martha Stewart says, "That's a good thing."

Then, again, maybe I shouldn't quote that woman.

*Fake name, of course.

Friday, February 13, 2009

V.D. Is Becoming A Pandemic- UPDATE

(this is another one that could potentially go in my other blog but as it concerns drinking and is more lighthearted I’ll put it here)

Didn’t go to the Las Vegas Twestival this Thursday (but it was for a good cause) and I’m debating going out for my co-worker’s birthday. I would but these are the problems with being sans vehicle, broke and not really wanting to hang out with roommate and one of his girls on Valentine’s Day Eve.

Which brings us to the topic at hand- Valentine’s Day.


Valentine’s Day (for those of you who missed the Hallmark inspired class about it in 2nd grade) is the traditional day on which lovers express their love for each other by sending overpriced cards (here, to help you poor, cheap, funny, procrastinating chumps) , spending money on flowers that don’t last or offering treats to fatten up your loved ones so they have no one else to go to. Maybe I’m just cynical. Who knows? It is really supposed to be a day of being with your loved one/ones and is full of joy and happiness.

It sucks. Actually, it has the dubious distinction of both sucking and blowing.

Now, it doesn’t necessarily have to suck. If you are in a relationship/ dating/ hooking up with a regular bus station skank, then this day can be awesome for you. It is full of long glances, hand holding and taking a fun-filled trip to the free clinic to pick up your meds to treat the special case of “love” you received from the aforementioned bus skank. Truly a beautiful day.

If you are single, it’s another tale entirely.

Usually you spend the day either commiserating with fellow losers…ehhh, I mean, loners who are also by themselves on this day. This can be fun if said loners are your pals and you are funny and/or confident enough to deal with the cheesy lovey-dovey things you are going to encounter.

Unfortunately, 7 times out of 10, your friends have the maturity and ability to actually convince and/or trick some poor soul into being with them. If this is the case, then you are going to have the bittersweet pleasure of either not hearing from that pal for the whole day or you will be witness to what you can’t get because of some deficiency in your stunted social skills. The worst, of course, is when your friend sucks worse than you and somehow manages to snag someone. Either way, sucks for you, buddy.


What does this have to do with drinking?

Simple really. Valentine’s Day is the day when the most alcohol is consumed. [citation needed] It’s a stone cold fact.

Think about it. Couples are sipping crates of champagne and other assorted boozes. Lonely people are having their“We Are Alone and (Angrily) Happy About That” parties with PLENTY of liks. Then you have the bar goers either drinking to forget their pain and find a hook-up or looking for people drinking their pain away to hook-up with them.

I, as you should all know by now, will be sober. Roommates are hanging out with their ladies. Not trying to hook-up and won’t drink.

So,if you are in a happy relationship, have a good time….lucky bastards. If you are single, drunkenly hook up with someone in my name. Just don’t find me if the person you thought you went home with isn’t the person you wake up with.

Oh, it happens.

Besides, you don't have to go back to work until Tuesday so just do as Ludacris does and keep it moving.
Fun times abound on a three-day weekend.

UPDATE- was told that maybe I was a tad negative and bitter in this one.
Well...Yeah. I was. Sue me.
Was tired after work and didn't exactly look forward to being alone on V-Day when I was missing someone.
Anyway, here's something more upbeat if you want. Enjoy yo'self!