Ahem, do to some unforeseen technical difficulties that we here at The Scene had (cough*Kid*cough), we are now pleased to (finally) bring you….

NATURAL PHENOMENOOOOOON (with extra “o”s to emphasize that it’s written phonetically, as if it were said by a greasy announcer for a pro-wrestling tournament)

_Seeing as how 2012, a movie about the destruction of the Earth due to natural phenomenon is #1 at the box office, it’s time that we talked about these occurrences. There is one in particular that seems as far reaching as the possible destruction that will occur at the end of the Mayan Long Count Calendar in 2012. That’s right, we’re talking about the Drinking Game Phenomenon.

_It has occurred to us at The Scene that everything that stopped being cool when you turned eleven becomes an amazing drinking game when you turn 21. I know that this might sound like a conspiracy theory, but the truth is out there. Think about it. Look deep into your life and you will come to see it too. What did you do when you were ten on Halloween? You went around dressed up fancy looking for treats. What did you do on Thanksgiving and Halloween? You played board games and trivia and sang songs poorly with your family.

_And here’s the part that brings it all together. What do you do now that you can drink on Halloween? You go around dressed up fancy looking for treats. Alright, so the nature of those treats might have changed, but that’s besides the point. And when do you play board games and trivia or sing songs poorly now that you can get wasted? Well out at bars of course. Many bars in many cities offer Trivial Pursuit Nights or Trivia Nights and how many Karaoke bars are there in America? Thousands.

_That’s right, it’s been right under your nose for so long but you didn’t want to realize the truth. The Government isn’t going to tell you the truth and you know you’re not going to learn about it in school, but it’s true. You see it every day, you see it all around you. The truth they don’t want you to know is that we as legal drinkers are living out our childhoods as drinking games.

_Don’t you wish every conspiracy theory could be this much fun?

- Kid

Dear Diary,

       This past weekend myself, along with a few of my most favorite co-workers engaged in a night of drinking and dancing! As we pre-drank our way through metro Vancouver we decided to make a stop in at our favorite place “Roxy Burger”! As the wind and rain pelted our decadent do’s and marvelous makeup we were greeted at the door by two men. One of which was clearly an employee and the other looked rather down on his luck and derelict. After the standard ID checks, the unfortunate looking fellow yells to us: “Hey look at this bunch of cougars!! There are a lot of young men inside!!”

     Now, as my ego was crumbling quicker than Lindsay Lohan in a heroin house, we decided to flip this scenario around! We as a group would feel sorry for this poor, old, and obviously oblivious hobo. As we took our seats near the window we took it upon ourselves to have a little ego boosting session with the table of vagrants next to us. “There was an old man outside that called us cougars – US can you believe a hobo would call US cougars !” They weren’t able to have a direct sight line to the man in question but as we ordered and started to put our little name calling incident behind us – guess who resumes his place at the table next to us!

   Harry the Hobo! It must be a misunderstanding – I almost yelled! But we quickly realised that Harry was in fact with them and was the proud poppa to the young men he wanted us to “hunt”. Oh diary, I couldn’t contain myself! My bravest friend Miss Penner - forged bravely ahead as to not let on to our obvious gawking and sputtering!  And what gems did she discover! A travelling family of convenience store clerks from Saskatchewan in town for the annual convenience Store Convention!! ! Oh diary – my heart was overjoyed that this man actually had, not only a job but, was a small business owner! Think of the benefit package!!

    Well diary I have never seen shots as well as mixed drinks consumed so quickly! My friends and I did not mince words – we downed and dashed over to our other most favorite place the “Roller”!  But diary as always I like to keep you wanting more – so I must tend to other matters! Until we meet again!

with love and respect my diary & confidant,

xoxoxo Miss Singleton

A Top Ten Lips

More tips and changes from your Functional Alcoholic Slurperson (FASe). You know how you’ve put back a couple and are ready for the next one but everybody starts giving you dirty looks as soon as you make a step towards the fridge? What follows are ten comments you can make to diffuse the moment and get off scotch free…

From the juiced-box: Chris Norman – Just Another Drink

1. “My ice cubes are lonely.”

2. “There are sober children in Africa.”

3. “That beer isn’t gonna drink itself.”

4. “This’ll give me something to talk about at AA.”

Paris Hilton Drunk & Slipping

5. “Because doggie bottles don’t exist.”

i'll Take One To Go

6. “I’m the kinda guy who’ll take one for the team.”

7. “i used to be an alcoholic but my tolerance went up.”

Non-Dairy Breakfast Whiskey!?

8. “Friends don’t let friends drink alone.”

9. “What would The Hoff do in this situation?”

The Bar None's Patron Deity

10. “Is it sober in here, or is it just me?”

Age: 27

Hair: Curly Dark Brunette

Height: 5′4

Method: Catchin Up

Advancement: Vodka Cranberry

I met B while I was at bartending school a few years ago. We bonded over a 40 hour week of making Malibu Baybreezes, Alabama Slammers, and Incredible Hulks.  She was my hipster fantasy, leggings under a cute dress, a penchant for indie rock, and quirky as all hell. But I had a girlfriend. This was even in decline of the relationship. But, despite my best temptations, I didn’t cheat or end the relationship over her. I just pined.

And then I got single, and she got relationshipped. Rinse and repeat this pattern for a few years, but we kept in touch. We finally hung out yesterday for the first time in a few years. We reminisced over our teacher yelling at us, over her busting my balls, over the weird kids in class. It was a fun time. Unfortunately, nothing really came of it. I think the window on that one is a little closed, but she was/is a cool girl and an always enjoyable person to spend the night drinking with, or even just making drinks with.

I know I mentioned weening off the drinking before my surgery before, but last night I was taught quite a lesson! I am blown away by how low my tolerance has become after just a few months of eating healthier. I went to a happy hour with some work friends to congratulate a girl for getting a new job. I stayed there for two hours, eating appetizers and slowly sipping on three glasses of wine.

Before, that much wine in that amount of time would have affected me like water. Last night, I walked out of the bar feeling like I shouldn’t drive. Wow! And because of this, I had to sober up. I went to Jimmy John’s, ate a sandwich, then went to Caribou for some coffee. My choice to drink led to more horrible choices.

Like I said, I learned a valuable lesson last night.

My new favorite breakfast - take that waffles!

Maaaan, I love the holidays.  I especially love it when friends come in to town because that means it is time to start drinking!  Last night our friend C and I went to a local pizza place (Fireworks – if you’re ever in the LoCo, you have to stop in.  I recommend the Baah Baah Black Sheep, either with or without the lamb sausage.  Balsamic glaze? Holla!) that happens to have an extensive and interesting beer menu.  They specialize in microbrews and limited edition or seasonal beers – fancy and very very delicious.  C and I sat outside under a little heater, catching up, singing along with The Band, annoying our waiter with our indecision, and drinking some truly spectacular beer.  Two of the four we tried were out of this world – Founder’s Breakfast Stout and Williamsburg Alewerks Brewmaster’s Reserve Bourbon Barrel Porter – substantial enough to make you feel like you just ate a sandwich with enough alcohol to get you buzzed from sipping.  They were basically perfect and I kinda wanted to crawl inside one of the bottles and take up residence.  If you can find either of these, do yourself a favor and get them.  You’re welcome in advance.

[And because we are awesome, here are some haikus we wrote about our drinks]

Founder’s Breakfast Stout

With coffee, oatmeal
chocolate and booze, this is
My complete breakfast

Oatmeal breakfast stout
I would drink you ev’ry morn
No scurvy for me

Bourbon Barrel Porter

Love in a bottle
I heart your sweet elixir
Run down my throat…yesssss

Joy beats in my heart
We drink with vim and vigor
Talk of now and then

Delirium Noel

The first (and only)
(Delirium) Noel tastes
of sweet fruits and hops

Coronado Brewing Company Red Devil

Western Red Devil
Promises both sweet and smooth
Finishes bitter

Beer and bourbon? I did not realize it was my birthday!!

]]> http://mariser.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/thirty-movies-hath-november-once-were-warriors-1994/ Wed, 25 Nov 2009 17:23:35 +0000 mariser http://mariser.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/thirty-movies-hath-november-once-were-warriors-1994/

Once were warriors is a New Zealand movie, notable among other things for the number of Maori people involved in its production – the director, Lee Tamahori, the entire cast.  the movie was very successful in New Zealand and got recognition around the world.
based on the 1980 novel of the same name, Once… narrates the struggles of a family living in Auckland. not quite living  in poverty but getting there, the father, Jake Haka, has lost his job and spends most days and nights drinking at the pub. his wife, Beth, is the usual victim of Jake’s rages.  each of the children is getting lost in their own way.  it takes a series of incidents, up to a tragic one, for Beth to finally decide to leave Jake and take the children back with her to the Maori village she’s from.
the movie is remarkable for its representation of the violence in the Haka household, the alienation of the Maori from the majority white society, the efforts of some to use traditional Maori history and customs to instill pride and responsibility on the young men.

trailer

ONCE WERE WARRIORS – Trailer (French subtitles)

Jake, Jake the Muss

Once Were Warriors – Jake, Jake the Muss

you think your fist is your weapon?

Once Were Warriors – You think your fist is your weapon?

the soundtrack uses traditional Maori songs alongside modern Maori sounds.  an example of the later is What’s the time Mr. Wolf?

Nablopomo 2009 badge

It was twelve forty-seven by the dashboard clock; no interior lights glowed in the house. The porch light was dark. When Rachel turned off the headlights, only the street lamp cut the darkness. She killed the engine and coasted into the driveway, hoping her father was not home, or already asleep. She leaned against the car door until it latched quietly, then crept into the house.

“You’re late,” Steve said in her ear as he flipped on the foyer light. The keys clattered on the tile floor and Rachel swallowed half a scream. The rest came out as a plaintive whimper; she sagged against the door for support and took a deep breath.

“You scared the crap out of me!”

“Where have you been? It’s one in the morning.” He ignored her remark. His voice was calm, but he folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes.

“I, um, I went for a drive.” Her heart was still pounding, her mouth was dry, and her knees were shaking. The sudden light was blinding; she was disoriented and off guard, which was probably the point.

“Kate said you left around nine. You drove around for almost four hours?”

Rachel fixed her eyes on her keys, afraid to pick them up, afraid to move. With one long stride, her father closed the distance, standing centimeters away from her, millimeters. She tried to step backward, but the door stopped her. Very reluctantly, she met his stare.

“You’ve been drinking.” It was a statement, not a question, so Rachel said nothing. Like a palm tree in a hurricane, she could only hope she wouldn’t break in the path of his anger; bending was inevitable. He stood there for a full minute, just looking at her, the calm before the storm. “We’ll discuss this in the morning when you’re sober.” Finally, he picked up her key-ring and turned away. Rachel could only stand there, not sure it was over. He hadn’t even yelled at her yet. Steve turned back and tossed the keys to Rachel, who caught them reflexively. The key to the Mustang was missing.

*****

The next morning, her father was waiting for her when she came downstairs. Rachel braced herself for the explosion she expected, but all he said was, “Morning,” as he looked over the top of the newspaper. With a little sigh that was only partly relief – because she knew she was still in trouble – Rachel made a cup of instant coffee and sat at the table.

A palpable silence grew between them, broken only by the rustling of the newspaper pages as he turned them. Rachel reached for a section of the paper and pretended to read. She could not escape the inevitable confrontation, but she would not initiate it; she would say nothing until her father made the first move. After about ten minutes, he finally did.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened last night?”

“I did tell you. I went for a drive,” Rachel responded in an even tone.

“For four hours.”

“Well, I stopped by Joel’s for a while.”

“I see,” said her father. “And did Joel’s parents give you booze? Do they let him drink? They think that’s okay?”

Biting back a sharp retort, she took a deep breath to dissipate her annoyance. If she was sarcastic, or fought him in any way, she would only get in more trouble. “No, that wasn’t it at all. Joel’s parents weren’t home. And I bought some beer before I went over there,” she answered, hoping he would accept the small lie – she didn’t want to tell him she was drinking hard liquor. Somehow, she knew that would upset him more. “We split a six-pack, Dad, it’s not like I was drunk or anything.”

“Hold on. You’re sixteen years old, Rachel, you shouldn’t be drinking at all. It doesn’t matter if it’s a six-pack of beer or a case of scotch. You can get arrested, spend the night in juvie. The charge is minor in possession of alcohol. Did you know I could be sued if anything happens while you are breaking the law? So don’t tell me you weren’t drunk, because it’s irrelevant. What matters is you aren’t supposed to drink. Period.”

“I’m sorry,” responded Rachel meekly.

Her father held up a hand and continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And it isn’t okay to drive when you’ve been drinking, despite what you think you know. Alcohol is a depressant. The very first beer affects your system. You might not feel drunk after two beers, but your reflexes are slowed. That’s how people get killed.” He stopped abruptly.

Rachel could only stare at him, appalled. How many times did you drive home? How many times did you park the car in the yard and pass out on the couch? And you never got in a wreck. You should have. It should have been you. She bit her cheek to keep the words in; she tasted blood on her tongue.

After a moment, Steve said, “I’m keeping your car keys for a week.”

“Okay. Fine, whatever.” Her tongue pushed between her teeth and she bit down hard again. She pushed her chair back from the table.

“I’m not finished.”

“What?” Her bangs fell in her eyes and she tossed her head to shake them back.

“Your aunt said you were upset when you left. What happened?”

“She didn’t tell you?” When Steve shook his head, she said, “I’d rather straighten it out with her, if you don’t mind.”

Steve caught her gaze and held it before he said, “Okay, Rachel. Just be sure you do straighten it out.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, that’s it. End of lecture. I’ll let you know if I think of something to add,” he said, smiling.

“I’m sure you will,” Rachel muttered.

“What did you say?”

“I said okay. No problem, Dad.”

*****

Without wheels, Rachel was forced to walk to school the next week, which was humiliating in itself. Plus, she had to spend her evenings at home with her father, which was unbearable. She didn’t dare ask to borrow her father’s car. He hadn’t mentioned it, but she knew that she was restricted not only from her car, she was just plain restricted. Resigned to her fate, Rachel spent her afternoons doing her homework and her evenings in her room, sneaking drinks and watching television. The week was a prison sentence.

With the extra time on her hands and nothing to do, Rachel’s room was soon cleaner than it had ever been and she rearranged the furniture twice before putting it all back in the original positions. She was filled with a restless energy that she didn’t know what to do with. The plastic bag of black beauties was still in her purse, but Rachel had no desire for them now; she was like a caged animal, restless and irritable.

Joel called early in the week and she talked to him for over an hour, hungry for human contact. Jenny and Rachel had not spoken since their argument and Rachel missed her. Susan was a drug connection, not a friend. At school, Jenny and Dan had been her gang, her clique, and she hadn’t needed anyone else. It hurt too much to think about Dan, but he was always lurking at the edges of her memory.

As soon as Joel’s voice came through the receiver, Rachel felt better – unknowingly, Joel tossed her a lifeline. Stretching out on her bed, she made herself comfortable and told him what happened Saturday night. Everything. “She was just trying to help me and I made a total fool of myself. I can’t believe I accused her of having an affair with my dad. I didn’t mean to say it, it just came out.” She glanced at the bedroom door. As far as she knew, her father still didn’t know what had happened and Rachel didn’t want him to know.

“Wow. That’s pretty intense. So they’re … what? Dating?” Joel asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, Joel. They both say they’re just friends, but I think it’s weird. They sure act like they’re dating.”

“Wow,” Joel said again. “Can’t even imagine that one.”

“My aunt is so cool; we get along great. That’s why I feel so bad about it.”

“Then just apologize to her. Tell her what you’ve been telling me.”

“You’re so easy to talk to. I like that about you,” Rachel admitted. Thinking about the night they met, she laughed and added, “You know, I wasn’t sure I liked you when we first met.”

“No way! You’re kidding, right? I’m an extremely likable guy,” he retorted.

“Yeah, really. I like you now, though.”

“Well, at least you learn from your mistakes,” he responded, making her giggle again. “Are you going to be grounded this weekend?”

“I didn’t ask, but I’m sure I am. This is driving me nuts. It’s not like I did anything bad. I mean, I was less than an hour late. I sure hope my car never breaks down – he would probably take my firstborn for that,” said Rachel sarcastically.

Joel laughed with her and then had a sudden inspiration. “Wait a second. You’re grounded from your car and from leaving the house, right? Are you allowed visitors? Even hard-core criminals get to have visitors.”

“He didn’t mention, but I’m sure that only means he didn’t think of it.”

“Why don’t I come over tomorrow? I won’t stay long, you won’t get busted. I could pick you up from school if you want. Hate for you to have to walk.”

“Would you really? That would be great, Joel.”

“Good. If I can’t take you out this weekend, I’d at least like to see you if I can. Besides, it’s partly my fault you’re in trouble.”

“That’s true. You owe me big time!” Rachel accused, trying to sound harsh, but she couldn’t keep the smile out of her voice.

“Then I’ll see what I can do to make your confinement more tolerable.”

“That would be a good trick, if you can do it. I hate this. I’m trying to be cool about it, because if my dad knew how much it bothered me, he would ground me for the rest of my natural life.”

“Hey, it will be over before you know it.”

“Yeah, right.”

His laughter echoed in her ear. “Man, Rachel, you are such a pessimist! Cheer up, will you? I’ll see you tomorrow, okay.”

“I’ll be here. Where else am I going to go?” she replied despondently, but she was smiling again.

*****

Making her way between the cars in the school parking lot, Rachel was treated with a cacophony of stereos – all tuned to different stations. The noise receded slightly as she neared the building and Rachel sighed with relief. Her head was pounding and she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Pausing to light a cigarette, she scanned the crowd gathered in front of the gym doors, looking for Susan, but didn’t see her.

A thin cloud of gray smoke hovered over the students in the chill morning air. Rachel was early, so only a dozen kids gathered around, but they were all smoking something. The familiar scent of marijuana drifted toward her and she followed her nose to a small group by the wall. Surrounded by four other guys, a kid Rachel only vaguely recognized was selling. Dressed in the requisite jeans and leather jacket, his dirty brown hair hung in his eyes as he conducted business from his little corner. Inching her way forward, Rachel benefited him with her best smile and patiently waited her turn.

“Got a joint, man?” asked the boy standing next to her. He looked stoned already, his eyes bloodshot and his speech slurred.

“No shit,” said the dealer as he shook the plastic bag he was holding. It was filled with joints. “How many you want?”

“Couple. Two. How much?” the customer asked nervously. Acne sprinkled his face and Rachel took a step backward to get away from him. She could smell his sour breath.

“Ten bucks.”

“No way. For two joints?”

“You heard me. That’s the price. End of story.” The dealer turned away, shrugging his jacket tighter around his shoulders. Two of the other boys laughed quietly, lazily, but they were staring at the kid. Rachel could tell they were getting impatient.

“Okay, okay. Wait.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. “This is all I’ve got,” he whined.

The dealer plucked the bill from him and handed him a joint. “Then this is all you get. Enjoy.” The three of them laughed as the kid scurried away and then the dealer turned to Rachel. “Hi, what can I help you with?” he asked, suddenly smiling and friendly.

“Um, how about a joint?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.

“Sounds good to me,” he replied and reached into the bag. He lit the cigarette, took a deep drag and handed it to Rachel. Surprised and unsure what to do, she accepted it with a questioning glance. “Go ahead. Try it out. If you don’t like it, it’s free.”

Shrugging, she took a drag, pulling the smoke into her lungs and holding it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Susan approaching and she waved as she handed the joint back. The residue from the pot was sweet on the tip of her tongue and she exhaled slowly, enjoying the taste. “Not bad,” Rachel judged. “How about a couple of them?”

“No problem. Five bucks.”

Rachel cocked her eyebrow and said, “I thought it was ten bucks.”

“That was for him. For you, it’s five.” He smiled at her with yellowing teeth and Rachel hid a grimace as she handed him a five dollar bill and received two joints in return.

“Thanks. And thanks for the hit.”

“See ya around,” the dealer said, taking another drag off the joint he still held.

Rachel joined Susan along the wall and lit the joint, placing the other in her cigarette pack. “How’s it going?” she asked, holding the smoldering cigarette toward Susan, who accepted it eagerly.

“Much better now, thanks. I was up half the night studying for that English test.”

“English test?” Rachel looked stunned. “What are you talking about?”

“Um, there’s a test today. Murphy mentioned it about ninety times last week, and she reminded us about thirty times this week.”

“No way,” Rachel groaned. “I forgot all about it. Over The Fountainhead, right?” When Susan nodded, Rachel sighed with relief. “Maybe I can wing it, that was one of my favorite books. I should be okay. I hope.” Rachel took another deep drag off the joint and then pinched it out between her fingers.

“I can’t believe you actually liked that book. It was the most boring thing I’ve ever read – nothing happens. It was so boring I couldn’t get through it. That’s why I was up late last night, trying to skim the rest of it so I would at least have a clue.”

“You can safely give up on that, Susan.”

“Give up on what?”

“Having a clue.” Rachel ignored Susan’s indignant screech and scanned the parking lot, watching cars vie for the best parking spaces. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dan’s Monte Carlo enter the lot and her gaze followed him as he pulled into a space near the building. It wasn’t the cool place to park, but Dan had never cared much about being cool, she thought with a pang. Susan saw where Rachel was looking and gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Still hung up on him, huh?” she asked quietly.

“No,” came the sharp response. Turning to her friend, she made herself smile and said more calmly, “Not at all.” Feeling very mellow from the joint, she grinned and lit another cigarette. “Besides, I’m kind of going out with someone else.” Susan’s look of admiration made her smile wider. “Remember that guy I told you about? The one who gave me the weed?”

“Get out of here! You are too much, Rachel, I swear. You’ve got guys everywhere. I don’t supposed you’d care to pass along my phone number, would you?”

“Yeah, right. But at least you’ll get a chance to meet Joel today. He’s picking me up after school.”

Susan just shook her head as Rachel laughed and they walked into the building together. In the main lobby, they went in separate directions, Susan to her locker and Rachel her history class. As she walked into the room, thinking about Joel, Rachel was still smiling.

Anna - international woman of mystery

Fun with foreigners! Beer, cheesecake and karaoke!

Some crazy guy and Monique from Jamaica. She kicks karaoke butt.

I met all sorts of new friends – most of them not from the States. The night began with a trip to a local bar/pub-thing. Very nice place, but a wee bit spendy. I told myself, “Yeah, I’ll hang out for a bit and then go home…” but no one can resist the siren song of KARAOKE!

Anthony, Thom (NZ), and Garry (Scotland) after a few.

This place served cheesecake, which was awesome, as I don’t often partake.  I think they just buy the stuff at the Japanese Costco analog and freeze it, because it was more like a slab of cheese icecream.  Delicious.

'nuff said.

And then someone would order the same number of beers over and over.  I think there were 10 of us, and 4 or 5 rounds of six or seven beers.  I really didn’t drink my share, to tell you the truth, but I’m such a lightweight it only takes about two or three to knock me on my ass.

Ciao.

I know this isn’t exactly gender exclusive but I’m pretty sure women started it, and have perfected it throughout history.

Example 1: Eve

Whilst bickering with Adam over her eating of the apple and damning all man kind, God “just happens” to show up and banish her from Eden. C’mon he just decided that was a good time to commence the banishment. They were in cahoots, God was just trying to get her out of that jam.

Example 2: Harriet Tubman

Do you really expect me to believe this was just about slavery. She was using songs, telegraphs, and the like to get the heck out of there. Escaping the south? More like escaping all the lame southern dudes.

Example 3: Jackie O

Oh yeah, I’m saying it. Jackie O was behind the whole thing. Jack Ruby? Lee Harvey Oswald? C’mon conspiracy theorists…aim a little higher. Jackie O was the mastermind behind that one. And why shouldn’t she be? Her husband was a hot shot playboy AND president to boot. He could have Marilyn or any other lady he wanted…does this a good husband make? And we’ve all learned how tough and frowned upon divorce was back in those days (thank you Mad Men).  Sure, she’s a national treasure, but part of that is her bravery and spirit in the face of her husband’s death. That was the ultimate excuse for her to get any situation, all she had to do is act choked up, she didn’t even have to say, “Oh I’m sorry, my husband was shot…” Because everybody already knew where they were when this happened and she had all of our sympathies.

I’ve been accused of a lot of things by those who know me and those who pretend to and even by strangers whom I have never met. Like most folks, I’d like to think of myself as someone having a certain amount of depth. There is the occasional thought that goes beyond mere survival, searching for deeper meaning, but for the most part I’m just a simple asshole that enjoys a good beer, foggy mornings, and saying what he damn well pleases. Sometimes I offend. Sometimes that is when freedom of speech is the most rewarding.

I like to provoke thought, even if the thought is just a reaction, such as, “P.R., you are the most ignorant weed on the planet.” I just want real conversation once in a while, not just the distraction of the superficial circus that has been imposed around us by Disney and the thirteen bloodline’s that pull his strings. A little coffee, with whiskey, or just a beer on a back porch, watching the day go by. I just want to go back to the days when we knew each other, instead of pretending to and there wasn’t doom looming over every horizon because some one let the monkeys out on a day pass at the capital.

I’ve had my sanity questioned. (Ah, yes, I remember sanity, that was a good day.) I question it on a daily basis, let alone what is being thought by the people who know me and even the ones who don’t. Then I look at “people” piped to me through the filter of the television and media and I go back to drinking knowing that the white coats have a lot of work to do before they get to me.

Remember the days when only the important news made it to you in the same day that it happened? Everything else you could read in the paper in the next day or two. And when did anything a celebrity do, other than making a new movie, become “news” worthy? The fact that Ashton Kutcher obtained a million twitter followers is only “news” in the fact that it lets us know the white coats are falling behind on the job. I see the tabloids in the checkout aisle, while I wait to purchase my beer, coffee, red bell peppers, shotgun shells, and a six-pack of socks, and apparently Jen and Angelina still don’t like each. Every rag has the same three stories that they have beaten to death, revived and beaten to death again. I think back to my sanity and figure, I must not be too bad off. I might be an old sot, but at least I’m not the unhappy fools on the covers of this trash, or the poor talentless hacks that write this dribble, or lonely, lifeless, prozac poppers that lay down their money to do more than gaze in disbelief at the cover as they wait. Then I smile, make a joke the cashier only looks strangely at me for, and head back to my nut-house before anyone notices I’m gone.

It’s a rant, what more do you want?

P.R. Knuhob

So! Last week was certainly eventful. Here’s how it went down, as I know you’ve just been biting your nails in anticipation of my update (just humour me).

Wednesday I went to a Tower of Power concert with my dad and my boyfriend. I love, love, LOVE Tower of Power. Hearing them live is like nothing else. They come from Oakland and have been playing since 1968 and are still going strong. If you get the chance (and like funk) do go and see them, you will not regret it. 

Thursday my workplace had its 50’Th. Anniversary. I won’t write too much about work stuff, because we all know what happens when you do that, but let me just say, that it was lovely and very festive, and truly a night to be remembered.

Also, I wore a very cute red dress, and am apparently trying to hypnotize the photographer. Can you believe this is actually one of the best photos ever taken of me? I lack the ability to look normal in front of a camera. But anyway, let’s just blame it on the Corona:

Friday I bought the last must have items for my (early) birthday. Items like tonic and lime and straws. 

Saturday I had my fabulous birthday party. FUN! I got so many great gifts, and one of my friends even showed up an hour early to do my hair. I’m so happy all of my friends like each other. I can just invite whomever, and people will always have something to talk about and get along. We had karaoke (or singstar really, but pretty much the same thing) which was a big hit.

My friend Rikke gave me a really cool silk dress from rützou a couple of weeks before, so of course I wore that. I also managed to spill something down the front that left a stain, hopefully the dry cleaner will get it out.

 (no stain yet!)

At some point during the evening I managed to throw my back out, so on top of the hangover and the very few hours of sleep, I was all kinds of pathetic the next day and irritable. Just ask my boyfriend who had to vacuum for me and even cook, gasp!

This week I’m house and cat sitting, and going to yet another concert, this time with french band AIR:

I’m also playing Action Hat with some friends, I believe I’ve posted the rules for Action Hat in a previous post, so if you feel like it, go look for that. It’s kind of like charades.

Anyway, I’ve been doing a ton of things lately, and also have a lot to look forward to. Let’s not forget the christmas lunches coming in just a matter of days.

I can’t belive we’ve almost gone through another year.

Someone’s been saying some very nice things about  The Monarch’s very own Soundtracks night…

Have a read below or have a look at Remote Goat.

For some time, the Bloody Awful Poetry boys have been bringing some of the coolest new music to Camden regulars, educating them in some of the bloodiest and awful-est poetry you’ve ever heard, but crucially in bestowing the most wonderful music upon many privileged ears. Having championed bands such as The Rapscallions and artists as phenomenal as King Charles, these guys know good music. So Soundtracks, at the Monarch every first and third Saturday of the month is not where you may expect to find them…

This gloriously exuberant night of the best (and cheesiest) music from the movies is unhindered by any cynical irony – it is an absolute montage of guilty pleasure, gooey nostalgia, and defiantly riotous fun. There is no room for being too cool for school at this night – there are giggles and squeals all the way! It’s so rare these days to find yourself at a London club-night where people don’t care about trends, fashion or what people they don’t even know are thinking, but thankfully Soundtracks has a zero tolerance policy on that, and if you’re not shadow-boxing to “Eye of the Tiger”, “Cha-cha-ing” to “Hungry Eyes” or head-banging to “Bohemian Rhapsody”, you’ll soon feel like the nerd in the crowd.

Spectacularly led by Sagar Shah and Keir Mills on the decks – who somehow manages to keep pace with Kevin Bacon’s Footloose-ing for hours on end (seriously – people were taking pictures!) the tracks cover every genre of movie, and every style of music. There’s a heavy dose of 80s, just to ensure the crowd’s inner child is dragged back out in public, on stage and jumping around, as well as tracks from movies as recent as Transformers. As for the crowd, this place attracts the delightfully friendly mixture that you’d expect from Camden – the young funky stylish lot, the silly drunken crowd, the smattering of curious tourists, the occasional oddball, and a bunch of other indefinables – all of whom sure know how to have fun, fun, fun!!

Once upon a time, long before the Playboy influenced outfits, the Palais and the compilation CDs, when School Disco was still held in an old school hall in Vauxhall, and entrance was by secret guest list only, that was the place for the most fun night out you could wish for. Today, that place is Soundtracks, except this time it’s epic, it’s genuine, and it’s downright Oscar-winning!

The next Soundtracks is at The Monarch on Saturday 5th December and tickets are available to buy now  from here.

They never miss a chance to perform so it’s no surprise that Kitty, Daisy and Lewis took the opportunity to have a quick jam at the Camden Head on Sunday evening.

Let us know if you were there…

So what happened with A.G.?  All I know is what follows:

So here i am the next day all excited about the prospect of liking someone who wants more than sex and I text him the next day and hear nothing. I text him the day after and hear nothing. The day after that I finally figure out I’m not going to hear from him.

Yeah, sometimes it takes me a while.  I talk with some girlfriends and tell them what’s going on – they all say to give him a chance.  He’s my type, blah blah blah, he’s attractive and I like him and they can tell – give him a chance.

So I silently give him his chance.  Two days later I get a text message from him that says “I’ve been really sick.”  That’s it.  I feel ignored and… useless.  I also feel like he was angry because we didn’t fuck but now he’s horny and is thinking about how great the kissing was – so I say “I hope you feel better.” and leave it alone.

A week and a few days pass by and yesterday I get a text that says “It’s been a crazy week.”  from a number without a name – turns out it’s his number and as I’ve deleted him from my phone (which rarely happens), I didn’t know it was him.  Slight discussion ensues and we begin chatting again.  He messages me again and I bluntly (though decidedly unwisely) say, “Are you txting me because you are horny?  Really.”

Yes, yes I know that’s not the coy way to play it – but I’m pretty much done with coy and “stupid girl” role right now.  I’m done fucking with these bullshit men who only want to know what it’s like to fuck me – and get butthurt when they realize they won’t ever know how it feels to be inside me.  I’m really done with it.

Not that I don’t want to get fucked – because I do.  I just want to get fucked by the same person repeatedly, for a lengthy amount of time equaling up to months and years.  I want to get fucked by a person who wants to do more than fuck me.  I don’t really believe that’s too much to ask.

So A.G. and I are talking and out of the blue he says “Will I get to see your hot bartender friend again if I come to your birthday party?”

Yeah.

Haven’t talked to me for weeks and the first night we actually chat for any length of time, you ask about a friend of mine.  That’s hot.

Next Up: O Rly? Ya Rly.

I’ve just spent the last 2 hours recovering from a night of drinking my face off. Not for social purposes, but for the purpose of forgetting.

Today, i found out one of my closet relatives has brain complications: a tumor and an anneurism. I was yelled at all day by my boss, and trying to keep my mom calm and collected was a task in itself.

I was a wreck when i got home.

I just wanted to lay in my room, crawl into a hole and die.

But Sean came home and spent the evening with me. He cancelled his date with Robbie and stayed with me. A part of me feels really bad for that, i do. And a part of me feels really bad for needing Sean – i shouldn’t, i’m 28 years old.

So we did the only thing that he knew how to do to forget: drink.

We did shots of Rum and Scotch – 6 in 30 minutes.

At first, i felt fine – chasing it with a coke and all.

But the minute we went to the golden arches and had something to eat – i wasn’t well any more. I found myself vomiting the nuggets and fries that i had just purchased. I found myself vomiting the fries and burrito i had for lunch. I found myself vomiting everything that was inside of me. It was NOT a good feeling.

And this would be the first time that it had ever happened. Normally, i am able to control myself with what i drink and when to know my limit. I thought i did. But after 6 shots in a row, in 30 minutes, i was no longer able to make those decisions I guess.

So after 30 minutes of drinking and 1 full hour of vomiting, i made my way home to my bed feeling like crap. My stomach wanted to blow up. My head wanted to give up. And the rest of my body wanted to quit on me.

I was not in a good state and i didn’t like the fact that i was no longer in control of my own body.

I fell asleep on my bed; Sean, coming in occassionally to check on me.

He’s gone now – off to sleep in his room.

But here i am, awake, wondering “why the hell did i do this?”

My mind is back to normal – well, as normal as it was earlier. I feel numb. I feel nothing.

But my body is still reaping the “rewards” of a night of drunkenness. I’m hungry but i also want to vomit. I can’t decide between the two.

So here i sit, staring at my computer screen, trying to find something else to write only i’m unable to think of anything else because a quite whisper of “hush, go to bed” is lingering in  my head.

I should probably go to bed.

But for whatever reason, i just can’t.

Emily groaned as she threw her books down in the back seat of the bus.  The god awful bus that she was forced to ride everyday.  Day after long day while her friends drove.  Some thier shiney new cars.  Mommy and daddy must have really thought they were really good.  Some of them in old pick up trucks, or old beater cars.  The old pick up trucks were most favored by the high school boys.  Cause they were good ole boys country boys… Well at least some of them.  Emily actually had an old beater of her very own.   But was she driving it nooooo….  The thing really was an old beater a 1984 something or another, that she bought and paid for with her own  money.  Not to old though since then it was only 1991.

 But she did have a job,  not that there were very many jobs close by.  She had to go thirty-five minutes one way just to get to the town close enough to have a mall.  But in that mall she worked at Venture.  Took the job her sophomore year in high school, working in the snack bar that served a hot and ready treat to all the harried shoppers.  With the money from there she paid her own car payment.  And her own insurance, kept up her school work, and took part in a few of the after school clubs.  Mainly the newspaper, Emily loved being on the school newspaper.

But if she had a car why was Emily on the god forsaken bus!  “Ugh its  not fair.”  she thought to herself as she stared out the window. 

But Emily knew she had messed up.  The weekend before she had gone out with her friends.  Emily wasn’t driving, she didn’t even take her car!  But she went to the country with her friends, drank strawberry hill till the early morning.  And came home drunk,  nearly bouncing off of the old  mobile homes walls.  Her bad luck had it that her step dad was home from work, and of course he heard her.    In her drunk state she hurled a few explitives when asked if she had been drinking.  Of course that wasn’t well recieved.  And now she was grounded from her car, untill after graduation.

Emily stared out the window thinking a little harder.  Her forhead wrinkled from the scowl on her face she pressed her face against the school bus window, and settled in for the forty-five minute ride.

Well, after my great weekend, I had a slip-up last night.  A friend came over that I hadn’t seen in months, and we stayed up really late – REALLY late – drinking wine and talking.  Between the 2 of us we polished off 3 bottles of wine, and I went to bed at 2:30 in the morning.  Needless to say, I did not get a workout in this morning.  Ahem.  And then, since my stomach was so upset from the wine, I ended up eating more fat and starch than I normally do, to settle it. 

But (in the success column) I did my best to mitigate the damage as much as possible.  So I had a breakfast burrito, and I added mayo to it (I know most people think that’s gross, but I love it), but I had a whole-wheat tortilla with spinach and egg whites (along with the cheese).  And at lunch I had a chicken quesadilla, but I also had a salad.  And I had some soup and crackers for dinner, which wasn’t horrible.  AND (cue the drumroll) I came home and TOTALLY did my exercise DVD, so that I didn’t get sucked into the whole “I can’t do this, I don’t know why I even bother trying” mindfuck.

So it’s kind of a draw.  And since I haven’t been drinking habitually, I’m not so worried about last night.  (It was a lot of wine, but we drank it over about 8 hours, along with a lot of water.  Don’t get me wrong, I was definitely drunk by the end of the night – I’m a lightweight – but it wasn’t the same as drinking a bottle and a half of wine over the course of 2 or 3 hours.) 

Also, I’ve been slacking a little bit on my Beck stuff.  I keep conveniently “forgetting” to read the affirmations, and to sit down while I eat.  I *am* getting better about giving myself credit for the good behaviors instead of just beating myself up about my setbacks (see above re: what I did right today), but overall my behaviors are starting slowly to slide back toward my “normal.”  And that is not acceptable to me. 

So I have to get back on track.  I got hung up on the “exercise” chapter, but I think I’m getting a handle on that now.  I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t have to do it perfectly, and that right now, something is better than nothing.  And I REALLY have to keep telling myself that I can always revise my plan next week or the week after or the week after that.  It’s not written anywhere that whatever I come up with now I have to stick with FOREVER.  Um, right.  I have a tendency to forget that. 

So, back to work.  Which is in itself a big win for me: having a setback, and not letting it derail me altogether.  Huh.  I just realized that.  That makes me kind of proud of myself. 

It’s not that I hate girls…it’s just that I don’t know many that aren’t CRAZY!  The more crazy they are the more likely my friends will date them…cough cough Mikey cough cough (his current girlfriend is awesome though).  I’m talking about girls that move in and take over, stalk you on facebook, send messages to girls that these guys new 15 years ago telling them to stay away from “their man”, hack into email and social network accounts etc. 

I’ve had girls that are dating friends of mine call me at all times of the day and night screaming at me for hanging out with their boyfriend and trying to take him away.  Um…yeah I didn’t want him, he didn’t want me.  MEN AND WOMEN CAN JUST BE FRIENDS.

I’ve been threatened, stalked, had rumors started about me (apparently I had a baby in 12th grade, amazing how I stayed 115 lbs all year and don’t have a 7 year old), been “tattled” on for things I didn’t do, had things stolen and destryoed etc. ALL BY GIRLS who were dating my guy friends (or by ex-girlfriends of current boyfriends of mine). 

Several memories were brought back by walking into a bar last night.  It was like 2006 all over again.  I went with my very close guy friend Mikey.  We’ve been friends for 10 years and we have both obviously had several significant others in that time…inculding each other for all of about 2 days 10 years ago. 

Some old friends came up in conversations with the people I knew at the bar.  I realized that a lot of my guy friends have been “banned” from hanging out with me, talking to me and even being friends with me on facebook.  What happened to trust?  I just do not get these girls, could someone please explain it to me?  I’ve lost 2 of my closest (or so I thought) friends in the past few years because of girlfriends/fiances. 

Guy number 1 unfortunately I still have to see and it’s really hard when you see someone you used to spend all your time with walk right past you acting like he doesn’t know you.  Acting like all those late nights you spent together playing video games and talking about random things never happened, like you were never friends.  Like you haven’t seen each other cry, like you didn’t take care of each other a rely on each other for all those years.  What’s worse is that I’ve known his girlfriend a lot longer than he has, and unfortunately I don’t think he’s seen the real girl she is yet.  I’ve seen her throw tantrums (I’m taking stamping her feet yelling in public tantrums), break into an ex-boyfriends house, and show up at parties for other people’s family parties she wasn’t invited to.  Multiple personalities seem to really be working for her.  Myabe she’s changed, but I’m guessing not since he’s not allowed to talk to me anymore or so I’ve been told by a mutual friend.

Guy number 2 was actually the last guy I thought this would happen with.  He was never the type of guy that stuck with girls once they started trying to tell him what to do.  I’ve never met his fiance, but I’ve heard enough about her, and gotten enough phone calls from him at all hours of the night because of crazy things she did.  I had thought we had just drifted apart because we were so busy, then I went to send him a little message on facebook and realized he had “unfriended” me.  This is also when I found out he was in fact engaged.  To the same girl that hacked into his email accounts, facebook, myspace and any other thing she could on his computer.  She sent messages to girls that had sent him messages saying to stay away from her man. 

I used to think I just want my friend back, I want things to go back to the way they were.  I want to put beer in coffee cups and start drinking at 8am because we can.  I want to play our stupid video games we came across and make fun of them.  Then I realized that these guys were obviously not my friends.  Maybe I was some type of girlfriend place holder.  Some chick to hang out with until the next girl came along.  I don’t know.  The thing I do know is that I have the best friends in the world and I know that (or hope) this won’t ever happen again. 

Ian Misty May for you…her husband Matt for me

Now Misty May is a girl I think I could be friends with!

Back when I was an undergrad, birthday weekends were a staple. My friends and I did not celebrate birthDAYS. We all celebrated and partied for the entire weekend to commemorate our birth. Being young and focused only on living life to the fullest the only way we knew how was the greatest thing to do. Our bodies bounced back the very next day like we didn’t just partied the night away. It was the life as we knew it back then.

Now, as I am approaching the big 3-0, my perspective is definitely not the same anymore. I still love dancing and it remains to be the only perk I now see in clubbing. If I was to have drinks with friends, I would prefer doing it in a place wherein I can sit and have a conversation with them without having to yell the entire night or deal with recently or barely legal individuals. In a way, I have always associated certain types of partying with age. There comes a point in one’s life that the mature gene kicks in and one starts acting like an adult and refuses to act like a drunken fool in public anymore.

Unfortunately, it has been made abundantly clear that a lot of people do not think the way I do. Or maybe I am just surprised that individuals in graduate school with enough life experiences can still choose outrageous public inebriation.

One of my school friends, Ferry, appears to be one of these individuals. Much to my surprise and chagrin of course. Her choice to have fun in the expense of sending her liver to overdrive is difficult for me to comprehend. Then again, I should have expected this as her mentor and her mom (both in their late 40’s) have no qualms going clubbing and getting drunk with her. It’s just plain sad to see anyone of that age party like they just turned 21. Please, grow up. It is a pathetic sight. Acting like one’s age (or an age very close to yours) is key to gaining respect from anyone. Cougars aren’t symbols of feminine strength and sophistication. These are the last things that enter my mind when I see one in a club. At that age, they have the knowledge of the effects of alcohol on their body yet many of them opt to ignore their individual level of tolerance and proceed to use the “I’m too drunk” excuse. I do not think it’s too much to ask anyone age 30 and older to drink responsibly.

My undergraduate uni had a bit of a reputation as being a party school and I have seen my fair share of public displays of drunkenness. None of them really shocked me until this past weekend, Ferry’s birthday weekend. Yes, at the ripe age of 31 she is still doing birthday weekends. I get the whole I’ll drink more than normal because it’s my birthday, but to drink to the point where your friends have to literally drag you home is complete irresponsibility. Staggering was not an option anymore as even this was a feat for her. Then, came the peeing. Yes, she peed on herself. When it happened, my jaw was to the ground. The puking was nothing. The peeing? I could not ignore the peeing especially when we then had to change her. Seriously, I cannot even imagine doing that to my friends. Being a burden to my friends and exposing them to unpleasant situations due to my own stupidity is something I would never do to my friends. Yet, this was what she did to us. Even more shocking is the fact that her friends were not surprised by the peeing. I started to wonder if this was an accepted occurrence. Honestly, that evening she lost some of my respect.

Do you guys ever believe in fate?  I sort of do sometimes.  At least I do a little tonight.

Three years ago I was driving my car to work.  I had recently graduated from college and was  embarking on one of the worst personal  years I’ve ever lived through.  I’m sure some of you out there can relate.  It was two years before I finally wised up, so not the best of times.

Anyway, like I said, I was driving my car and listening to NPR.  I caught the tail end of a song that had this great simple piano riff and beautiful voice over it.  I loved it.  I couldn’t wait for the DJ to tell me who it was, but he never mentioned who the song was by (bad DJ!).  I was on a quest,  I was determined!  Surely with the internet it couldn’t take that long, right? Is three years a long time?

The only reason why I found it at all was because a certain chain of events was set off recently by my deciding to take my desire to make music more seriously (see Julian Casablancas post).  Two weekends ago I found myself talking to my friend Ana, another singer, about how we both wanted to be in a band.  Ana and I decided to try to sing together.  She sent me a list of songs she felt comfortable playing on the guitar, one of which was Cat Power’s cover of Sea of Love.  We decided that this would be one of the songs we would perform for our friends.  Last Friday night, before our practice session, I decided to listen to the three Cat Power songs I have on my ipod, never having been into her much before.  I realized that, although I don’t love her music, there are elements to it that I definitely relate to, so perhaps I should get over myself and look her up sometime.

This all brings me to tonight.  Ladies and gentlemen, I have had a very trying day.  Just one of those where nothing seems to be going right.  I decided to turn on some Cat Power and see how I felt about it rather than going to my usual “today sucks” tracks.  I went to the album from which I knew two songs, You Are Free, and played the first song.  I couldn’t believe my ears.  The song I had been obsessively searching for for three years was right at my finger tips and had been all along.

As I basked in this discovery, I decided to look her up and read some more about her.  What did I find?  Cat Power, or Chan Marshall, is a recovering addict/alcoholic.

I found this old NYTimes article where she goes into quite a bit of detail surrounding her struggle and recovery process.  She brings up some interesting points.  Sobriety meant to her, at least at that point, that she had only had 7 drinks in 7 months.  By AA standards, and probably most other peoples, this does not count for much, but really – whatever works, right?  Well that was three years ago, and by all accounts, she’s still doing well.

They also have this video recording of her talking about her personal battles.  This just made me love her so much.  She talks about how much she loves Mary J. Blige for her strength and how much the changes that MJB went through helped her in her sobriety, maybe I should tell Cat Power that she’s done the same for someone like me.  Thank you, Cat Power.

I can’t help but feel a little spooked by all of this coming together.  I realize this probably is meaningless to anyone out there reading this, but it meant a lot to me tonight.  I just wanted to share it in case anyone else can relate.

Oh, and here’s the song that I finally found. The song is rumored to also be about a famous addict.  One who didn’t survive it, Kurt Cobain  (Also referenced in my Julian Casablancas post).

Somehow I feel like all of this is telling me I’m doing the right thing.

Someone’s giving me a cosmic high five somewhere.