"I don't like this cat. It reads minds" (old)

"I don't like this cat-it reads minds." pt 1 (old) 7/3/02 A bit expatriate to go to France of all places over the 4th of July. Some bomb brownies in place of alcohol and a few of my own misshapen thoughts and reveries to be my Sun. As the wide spillage of sky pools outside the airplate windows the thought of a scream plays out in the mushy spot between my ears. This scream is a singular, unexplained echo, chilling the blood in my overworked arteries, turning them to devil's slides of amber icicles. These icicles freeze from dripping to solid ice and my blood stops with them, leaving me with a gutless suffocating fear of death, an eye widened in a super quick rush of adrenaline. The slab of meat in my chest strains against the blocked passageways in its own push for survival. The scream is a bubbling now, boiling in intensity and rumbling through the stovepipes of my stomach, slowly bringing the amber slushy of veins back to warm, then hot, then scalding. My brain rattles and rebounds with the power of the blood, thrust to the shell of skull with what I can only describe as a loud thump. And with this, the scream is born. It rushes from the cavernous stomach like vision might explode in a bat's eye after years of only purplish radar blips. This is how I explain the scream that came flying full tilt out of my '84 BMW's sunroof (a hand crank sunroof, mind you) when I almost collided with the hind end of a very large and unforgiving truck. I had just dropped Julian off at the airport and was heading back onto the 880, rounding a curve and then realizing that traffic was stopped immediately in front of me - forcing the decision to switch lanes or trust the old lass to come through on the brakes ONE LAST TIME. But a quick glance to the side view mirror proves that by God the brakes better work or I am Fucked. This is the part where my blood goes cold. My foot comes down on the brake and a split second releases my AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK the car slowing down, barely, the brake all the way to the floor. But, in that split second of screaming out of the sunroof, I had pushed the brake early enough and the car complies. I doubt I could have hit a stack of ones with that stop, much less any insignificant piece of silver, but it's good enough to bail me out of this one. Have I mentioned that all this is an attempt to make it over the bridge in time for my flight to Charles de Gaulle? I think someone told me once that he was some commander, some victorious French guy. But my common knowledge is going to have to side with rich mogul of some sort of high paying industry or politician. We're talking about an airport here and no commander/military figure is going to have an airport named after him, especially in France. Politician - final answer. (Ed note: Reading this now, knowing he was both, is very humorous.) My fondest memories of French class - interjection here - I've been told that I write fast, but I can only think "not fast enough" for the moments the penstrokes take are like brick walls standing between the writing and the brain. So French class - Power to the People and Madame Tartera... TO BE CONTINUED

Children of Booze

Monday, January 29, 2007

Children of Booze Current mood: peaceful I didn't get around to blogging on Saturday, so this will be a longer one. I'm going to break up topics/days by ********************* so you can skip ahead to other sections if you'd like. Weekend starts Friday night with a few games of Beirut before heading with Julian, Cella and Sean to Ace Wasabi's. Once we get there, I'm pretty good, and in the hour long wait for the table, I get significantly better as Mike plys me with warm sake, which feels warm and kinda like baking bread in my stomach. I know that I should have baked one fewer loaf when I turn to two girls sitting next to us eating, and ask them which was the better portion of the dish they were eating...the avocados or the tomatoes. "Did you say tomatoes?" "yes..." "um, that's tuna..." I know that the sake was too much now because I just mistook a fish for a fruit. I stutter something about apologies, they laugh and tell me that the tuna was the best part of the dish. I hide my head in shame. We get seated and all I remember from dinner is that the philly roll was very good and we drank more sake. I thought about killing Julian because he kept handing me shots, but then realized that sadly, this was my choice and I better suck it up and shoot it. We leave Ace's and I spark a spliff, which is immediately a bad idea. Without my wits about me, and with no one else really paying attention, Julian pulls some trickeration and leads us all to City Tavern. I will say this...That was only the 3rd time this year that I've been there. If I can get away with only going to City Tavern 3 times a month, with two of those times being specifically to pre-party and leave, that's something I can handle. It ends up being a good night all in all as Miller, Wolfklain and others show up to share the festivities. *********************************************** Saturday I wake up and head to an Education Open House at USF for a program that joins a teacher credential with a masters degree. It seems like it might be solid for me, and I'd be able to continue working as I pursued it. I'll have to wait til after Track to think of that though (and track starts this week!!!) Then I hit Nini's for the gauntlet and follow it up with one of the better movies I've seen in at least the last year, if not longer. Children of Men. ************************************************ Now, I've heard some troubling things about Children of Men, namely people I know not thinking it was a very solid movie (Charles, Dawson, Alan obviously excluded)...and I need to wonder if people saw the same thing I did. I'm not going to spoil the movie for those of you that haven't seen it, so don't be afraid to read on. Let's start with the basics...a movie needs to take you to a place, mentally and emotionally. This movie is set in 2027, and while we can't know how realistic the vision portrayed will be, I can tell you that the setting and the way it was shot was incredibly realistic. You could feel the dirt, the blood, and more importantly for this movie, the constant feeling of fear. It would be one thing to fear for the characters, but this movie goes a step further and actually creates fear for the entire human race, not just in the movie, but in our current situations. With the premise the infertility of the entire human race, the movie exams questions of morality, economy, race, gender, ethnicity and faith. Britain has turned into the last superpower on earth, having done so only by eradicating much of civilians' freedoms and placing refugees and illegals into detention centers. This plot line felt like Japanese citizens in WWII, as well as suspiciously like current practices surrounding Muslims in the war on terror. (You're even given a few courtesy shots of British soldiers torturing detainees with Abu Ghraib tactics). You watch it, unsure how much of it could become real, and quite certain that none of it is completely out of the realm of possibility. You watch people, all from very different backgrounds and personal histories viewing the issues of the movie from different perspectives. What tops it all is that the movie doesn't seek to give you answers to these questions, or lead you in any direction. It simply poses them, tells the story and lets you deal with the aftermath. Children of Men is able to boast what only the best science fiction can....the use of futurescapes, projected "history" and a basic future premise to bring to light questions and ideals we must face currently in our culture and world as a whole. If anyone would like to discuss this movie with me, I'd be thrilled. *********************************************** After the movie, I feel like driving off a cliff because I have so much energy and so little hope for the immediate future of our country in the war on terror and other such nonsense. I chuck this feeling out the window and head to the city to meet with Damie, Charles and Brandon. Now, Brandon called me early in the day to ask me to come out for his cousin's birthday party at Cheesecake Factory and then Zebra Lounge. I tell him Cheesecake won't happen, but I'll meet them at the lounge. Luckily, Derek and Mamie's friend Goo is working bar, and he gets us past the line and past the cover charge, VIP style. He then serves us drinks at the upstairs bar where they haven't allowed people into yet. We're running the place, make no mistake. The crowd starts to pick up, the music as well, and before you know it, the upstairs looks like a cross between a high school dance, a college frat party and a Wild 94.9 street party. As I'm leaving the bathroom, Brandon calls me to tell me that there's a cover, they're not going there anymore, and can I meet him outside...I do, we hit a spliff around the corner (with cops EVERYWHERE), say hello to Zeke who's with him and then head back in. He heads back to his party at Velvet Lounge, nevermind the fact that I came out and sold everyone on the Zebra lounge idea because he was going to be there! We party some more in Zebra, get a few more cheap to free drinks and decide to head over to Velvet to hang out with Brandon and his crew. We make our way down to the front, get outside, and as we hit the sidewalk, Brandon calls to ask if Goo can hook his cousin up with free drinks at Zebra. I say, um, yea, he would have, but we're on our way to Velvet to see you guys. At which point he tells me that he and Zeke are on the way home already, and his cousin and her friends didn't like Velvet and had gone to Zebra. Now knowing that we're not tied to Brandon anymore, we decide to meet up with some of Mamie's friends at Fiddler's Green, which I had been to once before. For those that don't know, it's a very random place where the downstairs is a little quiet, live band, some dancing, bar and about 62 degrees. The upstairs is a packed dance floor bumping dj spun hip hop music that runs somewhere around tropical. Mamie, in typical fashion, has very attractive friends...we smoke more, drink long islands and take pictures with my camera (all of them up in the profile now) until it's time to go. At this point, we're in North Beach, around 2 am, and who's gonna find a cab? I do. I call Maurod the cabbie, and I'm not sure if I mentioned him previously, but believe I did in another blog. I get him on the phone, tell him where we are, and he says he'll be there in 5. He drives up, and Maurod is the baddest ass cabbie you've ever met. First he kicks a couple out of the cab because he was coming for us...(that feels VIP...sorry, that's MY cab you're in buddy!) and then we're two minutes in the drive and he says, "something smells good back there." I know what he's referring to, so I ask him if I should spark it, "yea, yea, spark it!" So here we are, Charles, Damie and myself, rolling with Maurod the French Cabbie through North Beach and downtown, blowing trees and listening to french hip hop. That's how we do it. He drops us off at Vic's where we meet up with Vic, his girlfriend, Alan, Simon and the rest of the Jewish Russian Mafia. Alan pours vodka shots down Charles throat until, at around 2:30, it's time to go and Charles can't get off the bathroom floor where he's made new friends with Phil's toilet bowl. This is where we leave him as Damie give me a cab ride to where I need to go. So there you have it...the weekend in all its gruesome glory. Don't get it twisted, unless, of course, you're trying to twist one up.

Anatomy of a Rape (Duke Lacrosse Players, Pt2)

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Anatomy of a Rape (Duke Lacrosse Players Pt 2) Current mood: Right Back in April, I posted a blog (Duke Lacrosse Players, April 19, 2006) about what was going on and how it seemed a little strange how quickly everyone in the country jumped on the bandwagon in being absolutely positive that a heinous rape had occurred in North Carolina. As background: This rape was allegedly perpetrated by multiple members of the Duke Men's Lacrosse team on an exotic dancer that had performed at a party. Following the allegations, the firebrand speeches of Mike Nifong, the District Attorney in the case, brought the community in and around Duke to a fever pitch that resulted in demonstrations, racial divides and eventually grand jury indictments on rape, sexual assault and kidnapping charges against several players. These problems were amplified by the fact that there was continuous tension already between a rich, predominately white university that sat adjacent to a poor, mostly black community. In the months that have passed since, the case has fallen apart. The accuser changed parts of her story, all the DNA evidence came back negative and Mike Nifong is now facing charges himself that he hid evidence and made false statements in court about the case. As for the accuser...she had multiple different dna samples collected from her...none of them matched the team members she accused, nor any of the 46 players on the team. While the headlines about the rape and the indicted players splashed nationally, the only place I noticed an article about the DA getting charged was on ESPN. All the coverage created the damage, but once the case wasn't sensational anymore, the media dropped it, and for the school, lacrosse program, and the men charged, the damage has been done already. I noticed in the ESPN article a list of links to all of the articles that had been written about the case since the beginning. I was hoping the links would translate here, but they came out as text so you won't be able to read the full articles. However, read the arc of the headlines from start to finish, and you'll notice that not only were they not considered innocent until proven guilty, but a lot was destroyed in the process. Here is the link to the page with the list of links in case you actually want to read all of them. I will say that there's some mention in the final lines of the first blog where I mention the separation between church and state. You can ignore that line...on rereading the blog I realized that that had absolutely nothing to do with the case at hand, I was just off on a rant I guess. I'm glad to say that as the initial blog on this subject proves...for me on this story, hindsight wasn't 20/20...foresight was. Nifong...I wish I could have told you so. http://sports.espn.go.com/ncaa/news/story?id=2740966 Related Stories March '06: .. Coach resigns, season canceled .. Garber: Campus, community in turmoil April 06: .. Duke accuser involved in prior rape allegation .. Second dancer tells her story .. Alumni question Duke president on player suspensions .. Scoop Jackson: Blame administration .. Duke to keep selling lacrosse gear .. Background on Finnerty, Seligmann .. Two Duke players indicted .. Race a focal point in Durham .. Police: Accuser 'passed-out drunk' .. Whitlock: Men behaving badlyMay 06: .. Sweatbands of support: Duke women show solidarity .. Lawyers ask for more evidence .. Judge won't fast-track trial .. One of team's captains indicted .. Defense: DNA tests clear Duke lacrosse players .. Talks of accuser's credibility overheard .. Duke report: Police downplayed accuser .. DA wins Democratic primary .. Committee: Team can resume play, with monitoring June 06: .. Parents of Duke player say son can prove innocence .. Duke player reinstated .. Evans guilty of noise violation .. Police report: Duke accuser nervous, changed story .. Pessah: Team life after scandal .. Recruits: Staying Going .. Coach K breaks silence .. Defense questions DA's comments .. Duke professor calls for special prosecutor .. Second dancer calls allegations a 'crock' .. Interim coach ready .. Duke reinstates lacrosse team under watchful eye .. Almost $23K spent on DNA tests July: .. Duke hires Hofstra's Danowski as men's lax coach .. Judge: Prosecutor has access to uncharged players' addresses .. D.A. seeks access to uncharged players' ID cards August 06: .. AD: School 'will be better' .. Write-in campaign launched against prosecutor .. Former Duke coach hired by Bryant .. Duke player pleads guilty to DUI charge September .. D.A.: Assault lasted 5-10 minutes .. Duke reinstates exotic dancer ban .. D.A. asks judge to stop polling .. Duke holds private pep-talk for athletes .. Duke lacrosse returns to the field .. Judge to bar cameras from hearings October: .. Dancer: Duke rape accuser said to 'put marks on me' .. D.A. hasn't discussed case with accuser .. Duke lax coach: Players may return if exonerated .. Accused players thought DNA testing would end case .. Accused players, second dancer speak out .. Duke attorneys again ask for statements .. Duke lacrosse team back on field for charity event December: .. N.C. State Bar files complaint against prosecutor .. D.A. drops rape charges .. Legal experts: Why the remaining charges? .. Judge OKs paternity tests .. Report: Accuser is pregnant .. Defense attorneys: No Duke players' DNA found on woman .. Justice Department asked to investigate Duke case January: .. Nifong faces more ethics charges from state bar .. Nifong gets extension to answer complaint .. NAACP asks for thorough exam of case .. Prosecutor's future uncertain .. Attorney general takes over .. Prosecutor asks off case .. Defense: Accuser said one player just watched .. Judge orders paternity test .. Duke prez defends decision .. Ex-player sues over failing grade .. Lawyer: Players invited back to class

... (old)

Monday, January 22, 2007

...(old) Hmm...must get a title for this one. Sing it and swing it, From the jazzy guitar to the wailing trumpet, Wailing like a mad ass breeze on the 5, desolate wastelands and the Hope of more to come, just like it to leave the driving brainless and numbing, But fun for fumbing, and succumbing, I guess , To some weird wish to be alone in all of it, but surrounded with the sweet jazz. Liza's gone now, and some boxes of interstate and other things whoosh by, Or maybe they don't whoosh, But kind of fall behind, Like a lost minute I was thinking of this morning. It was in between a girl and I, It was where love fell an inch short, And I lost time. I lost a single minute of life, and it was sudden. The thin line between love and hate is a misnomer. It's the thin line between love and ex that's a kicker. Funny too, because the leap up is big. Possibly the one moment you can never lose. The biggest gap on the way up, and nothing on the way down. And then you fizzle. But with best friends, it's the opposite. You'll never remember the moment you became family to each other, because it's been there most of what you can remember. I've never had it happen, and hopefully I never will. I guess it can disappear, and when it reappears, it'll be there like it's always been. Like this guy I know. I didn't really know this guy, but what I did know of him, I didn't like. He was this lanky kid. Apparently, and without me knowing it, he had hated me for a number of years before I had hated him. I hooked up with his girlfriend. I didn't do it because I disliked him, but just because it was fun. It was hooking up. I didn't think he'd mind, it was 7th grade, or no, maybe 8th. At any rate, he took it as a personal affront. I hadn't meant it as a slap in the face, but some people take things different ways. Like Andy says, "If a girl will cheat on her boyfriend, he's not doing a very good job." A poor ideal, I think….but why does it sound so true? Cloud ballerina dancing over pearly white waves on the edge of the horizon, Flowery hand outstretched and a trail of sooty, Dark Clouds, Her exhauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust. That's fucking annoying isn't it…a stuck u button on your keyboard. But she's almost dissipated now, our ballerina, Gone in the struggling moments, and a failing u. But she gives way to a ying yang with crow's faces, the beaks as the opposing colors, with the eyes inset. And the sky leaking a thick paste of orange against cerulean, And a dismal coyote/roadrunner/wren alighting from the gray and floating closer, Faster, against the rest. Run coyote/roadrunner/wren, run like hell. Before your run ends, too. Now, I'm not sure about this one. It could either be a marathon racer, diving across the rope, Or the rope, In suspended boomerang fashion, Pulls her back to her partner, head thrown back in what must have been, At one point, the runners haze. Hmm…kinda rambly, kinda hazy, kinda happy, or sad, or melancholy. All juiced into one session of… Ah, yes. Cloud Watching, Or the funny feeling of doing it, Going home, or whatever else it takes you to fill a couple minute here and there, but really all is action because even sleeping, I'm doing. Get your head out of the futter! Doing this and that. If you were to die right now, would you rather be doing this… Or that? I think rather that, but are both an answer? Could you potentially be doing this AND that at the time of your demise? I hope so. This would give a nice maximum type of efficiency To end all efficiency. Like a certain group of born again pagans. They get to be pagan and born again their whole lives. Talk about some efficiency! But no, really… Cloud Watching August, 2001

New Blogs, Old Writings

New Blogs, Old Writings
Current mood: curious

I found an external hardrive of my dad's the other day that had a ton of old writings from years ago. I'll be posting them, serial novel style in blogs. I'll denote the old ones by putting (old) in the title so you don't have to waste your time opening them if you're only interested in the new stuff. Cheers.

Human Pinball

Sunday, January 21, 2007

Human Pinball Current mood: good That's right. I'm a human pinball. I thought my secret was safe, but it's out now. Shit. Don't tell anyone. My evening starts with......say it with me people.....beirut. But later this time, like 9. I get spun like a top by Julian who has managed to find his groove since Friday night. He's kinda like Stella in that regard. It's time to bounce and we're heading to Royale for his friends birthday party, with my plan to rendezvous with Derek and Mamie afterwards at Slide for a model send off. As we get there, Chris Reich comes out and I can't believe they let a guy like that in there. I almost left right then and there. But he convinced me that he wasn't so bad so I stuck around. I'm looking around, and I swear I see Cathy. Like, I'm positive that I see Cathy. I tell Julian this and he says, "you're too drunk. Cathy's not here." But damn, this girl looks just like Cathy. I yell out, "Hey! Cathy!" but don't get any response. Julian says, "You jack ass, I told you so." I pull out my phone, and call Cathy. I watch as this girl pulls out her phone and picks up. "Cathy. Turn around." She gets this confused look on her face and turns around. "You are not looking at me right now!" "Cathy, turn around. The other way." She finally sees me and comes over and I get to laugh at Julian for calling me the idiot. Like I don't know what Cathy looks like or something. We step outside to blaze (to which I drunkenly forget to invite Chris) and she tells me that she loves my blogs but that they're too long and she usually just skims for interesting tidbits. As you can tell, I've made her a character in this one so she'll have to read it to see if I talk shit. A tense moment passes as a police officer crawls by at about 5 mph, looking at us. I take another hit. They continue driving. I get to meet her boyfriend, which is nice. I've heard so much about this guy, finally putting face to name works. At this point, I know it's gotta be time to head to Slide, and sure enough, Derek calls me. However, instead of saying meet us over there, he tells me that Black Out Mamie is back in full effect and he has to take her home. So now I'm SOL on that plan, but remember that I'd been texting with Aliza before I got to Royale. She tells me to come down to Folsom and 8th and meet up with her, so I'm game (I'm not going to end up in the Marina, that's for damn sure). I get in the cab and tell him to take me to Folsom and 8th. He looks at me and says, "Why do you want to go there?" Now, I may be new to the whole cab game, but I don't think I've ever been asked what my intention was for going to an address. I want to ask him if he won't take me if I don't have a good enough reason. I tell him I'm trying to get to the Cat Club? I think that's what it's called. He looks at me again and goes, "but why would you want to go there?" I"m beginning to think he's playing some sort of joke on me, like when Mike drunkenly tried to convince the Cleveland cab driver to go pick up Sonya in San Francisco, insisting that he would pay him any amount of money. I tell him I'm meeting some friends and he says, "you might be the only guy there." I say, "there's a lot of girls?" "It's all girls." So I tell him..."Sounds like my kinda place!" and he goes, no no, it's a Lesbian bar. Now, Aliza hadn't mentioned this to me, but I mean, given the fact that I was going to meet Aliza, I did kinda figure that's where I was going, so I'm not all that shocked by this. He asks me, "do you still want to go?" "Dude, I've got people waiting there for me! Take me there." This is starting to get mildly annoying, but he gets me there without further ado, and sure enough, as I step out on the curb, I'm not seeing a whole lot of guys, which is cool, because I only like guys that I'm friends with anyways. One girl goes, "Are you in the right place?" to which I respond "That depends. Is this the Cat Club?" "yes." "Then I'm in the right place!" Thankfully, I find Tamara and Wendy out front smoking cigarettes, and Wendy, super cool as she is, walks right past the line and in, also courtesy of her hand stamp. Then she looks at me like, "come on, let's go!" like I can just walk past the line too. This doesn't feel right though, so I wait in line with Tamara who tells me that that's just the measure of Wendy's ultimate coolness. I really should be used to it already. We head inside and this place is tiiight! First off, it's huge. The ceilings are high, so even though there's a ton of people in it, it doesn't feel cramped. The crowd is amped and the variety of people is something only truly appreciated by someone who's into people watching and the connections of social interactions. I'm not the only guy. Which is cool, cause guys are chill. Wait, didn't that contradict something I said earlier? Gotta look into that...The place is split into two rooms, an 80s, dancy pop room, and a hip-hop room. The bartenders are fast and furious. Dancing, drinking and hilarity ensues. I get us outside for the ritualistic joint, which, as it did the other night starts putting people (and by people I mean Aliza) under the table. I actually get asked to walk a bit more away from the door, which is a first. But the bouncer didn't tell me to put it out. After we finish the joint, to my utmost delight, there's a hot dog vendor, SC style with the bacon wrapped, jalapenos and everything else on it. Between Wendy, T, Aliza, Jackie and myself I think we eat 6 or 7. Nightcap of champions. Cab ride home anyone?

The Evening I Was Gay

Saturday, January 20, 2007

The Evening I Was Gay Current mood: pleased 7pm rolls around on Friday evening, and, like other Friday evenings at 7, I begin drinking beer. Well, actually, I begin playing Beirut, which is kinda like drinking beer. Speaking of which, I need to get a new way to start my stories than, "We started playing Beirut." Ok. How about this? New start. I was playing Beirut with Julian. Shit. Nevermind. I will say I actually beat him. We head out to City Tavern at around 9. Now, for those of you that know, City Tavern is visited waaaaay to frequently. However, I've somehow managed to get this far into the new year and last night was only my second time there. And there's a new tactic now...instead of going there and staying there, I use it as an extended pre-party before I go elsewhere. Chris the bartender knows us and gives free drinks, so it works for this guy. Best moment from City is when Julian's friend looks and me and says, "everytime I see you two, you're always just a few steps ahead of everyone else." I tell him.... That's cause we start playing Beirut at 7. Worst moment of City is when I get a telephone call that I answer. I get asked a question and respond how I normally wouldn't because I'm a little tossed. I don't know if what I said was good, bad or neutral, but I do certainly wish I could pick apart the day and put the pieces back together my way, with that phone call not in it. I jump in the cab and head to Azul to meet Christina (funky straight hair and sassy dress), Brigid (backless top again!), Tamara (styishly styled in necktie as usual), Aliza (the prep look suits with the sweater) and a host of others. Hadn't been to this place before, but it's preeeetty preeettty prettty pretty good. I get there and everyone is housed already. This place is in an alley, big glass windows facing it, high ceilings, long bar. The music is steadily good. Aliza looks at me and says, "I was so high when you came over to Zena and Tiff's the other night." My response is that I know how we can duplicate that situation right now. We step outside, much to the dismay of some people I know, and manage to get away with smoking right in front of the bar. Don't ask me how I get away with this so frequently and so publicly, because I do not know. Aliza and T, still not used to what I carry, get fucking ripped. Again. At this point, I'm slurring and noticeably stumbling around (even to myself) and I notice Brigid and Christina walking down the street away from the bar in their coats. Um? Hello? Are you leaving? Apparently, they've decided to leave. I find out it's in order to meet someone at another bar that someone might have a certain interest in. I'm a bit incredulous...I don't think I can handle another bar right now. Tough shit I'm told. Get in the cab, I'm told. So I get in, and as we head across town, I'm told that because there's two guys where we're going, and they want Christina to look available for one of them so that they can run game on the other one. In order to do this, I'm informed that they've informed these two gentlemen that I'm their gay friend. Oh realllllly? Yes, really. They also kindly let me know that not only do I have to not flirt or appear interested in Christina, but I can't talk to other girls because that'll blow the whole story. So now, not only am I very drunk, very high, but I'm also preparing myself to appear uninterested in women, which, for me is difficult in any state, let alone a faded one. As we get to the bar, the two guys are outside waiting for us, shake my hand and immediately ignore me and start in on their two headed game. Honestly, two guys would never have done that if they thought I was straight. They would have shown a little tact. But no, I felt disrespected. I wanted to put my hand on Christina's breast and laugh at the fool who thought he was doing a good job flirting. But I held it down. I amused myself by taking pictures. And not looking at girls. And that is really hard. I was thanked afterwards for an excellent performance that exceeded expectations. I did break character a few times when I caught Christina in the bathroom line, but the chump didn't see, so it worked. I manage to once again remember my credit card, I don't lose anything, and I make it home in one piece. Now it's off to Nini's, and preparations begin to start over again this evening. I'd love to offer predictions, but with the night I just had, who knows.

Suck on THAT, Mr. Meter Maid!

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Suck on THAT! Mr. Meter Maid Current mood: ecstatic Start with 5 games classic Beirut. Add one game of a complete shut out over Cella. Mix with one cab ride to the Marina and you have the beginning of Taco Tuesday at Blue Light. Myself, Mike, Sonya, Julian hop over there, meet up with Brigid, Derek and Mamie. Morty shows up later and the night is a lot of cheap beer (with one foreigner asking me if 4 dollars was a normal price for a Beck's...homey, drink some Corona for 2) and quite a few puffs. I make a poor decision in secret telling. Then I compound it by actually believing them when someone tells me, "Don't worry, I won't tell, I'll act surprised." Yea, a day later, it's told! But hey. Do I blame the person in question? You bet your ass I don't. I blame me. And alcohol. And an unusually big mouth on the night in question. But it teaches a valuable lesson....what someone says they will do with information BEFORE they know what it is, and what they actually do once they have that information, are two different things. Granted, I probably should have learned this 15 years ago in preschool, but I guess I missed that day cutting class to go to a Giants game or something. Either way, the joke's on me. Mike and Sonya disappear early. Julian bounces after them, and Brigid is soon to follow. Morty, Damie and myself head outside for a few nice puffs before splitting ways. **************************************************** THIS PORTION OF THE NIGHT EDITED. FOR AUTHOR'S KNOWLEDGE ONLY. **************************************************** Sorry about that, but with new FCC regulations and the fact that this site is run by Fox, I don't know what's safe to put on here or not. I jump back in the cab after my stop and head back to Mike's. As he turns the corner, voila, there, behind my car, is the dreaded blinking yellow lights of the meter maid. I've forgotten that as soon as Tuesday ends, Wednesday begins, and when that happens on the street behind Cella's house, it becomes street sweeping and illegal to park there. I got a ticket for this last week, but as with the secret/preschool lesson, I guess I missed this one too. I throw money at the cab driver and run up, getting my best face on to try to persuade the Meter Maid that indeed, a ticket isn't necessary, but rather just plain mean! I get to the car, and there's no ticket. I peak in the meter maid car and he's.....passed out, sleeping on the steering wheel!!! I silently unlock my car, get in, start the engine and drive away in one move. He wakes up and follows, but he knows that his time to ticket me has come and gone. That'll teach him to fall asleep on the job. Coming soon: Weekend Debauchery.

The Night We Got Ditched

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

The Night We Got Ditched Current mood: peaceful Last Friday night, it's time to go out. Mike and Sonya are having couple movie night at the apartment, so it's up to Julian and I to wreak the appropriate havoc. We start with the usual, and it's then that Julian tells me that he hasn't been to the Marina all year and very much wants to go. I'm not excited about it, but figure, hey, it's not that much of a sacrifice, and if we go early, we can leave and go elsewhere (in the back of my mind I'm thinking Med Jool, which is where Victor and Alan are celebrating Victor's girlfriends' friend's birthday party. Say that three times fast.)...but I know it might be a struggle considering that Med Jool was the site of Rex's last outbreak. We head to City Tavern and you would think Julian was some long lost hero returning home to collect his bounty. The bartenders asking where he's been, pouring shots, the waitresses hugging him and asking about his New Year's. We're there at 9 on a Friday, so it's pretty empty out there, but in my mind we didn't come for the crowd. For a while, Julian is on me to play wingman, but I'm just not feeling it. Then, the bartenders get him so drunk off shots that he doesn't remember to ask me, which helps relief wash over me. I have a few washington apples. Probably the most girly shot available, but that means I'm able to take them, which is a good thing. We're ready to leave and Brigid shows up. She literally scares the shit out of me when I turn around and do a double take, not sure that it's really her. We tell her we're leaving and she jumps in the cab with us (she loves Med Jool)... It's about midway through the cab ride, somewhere on Van Ness, that Julian starts having doubts about returning to the club that hosted one of the least favorite nights of his life. He expresses this, and Brigid, immediately afraid that she's going to have to come with me alone to Med Jool, jumps out of the cab at a red light, and gets in one behind us to go home. We get to Med Jool and I get Julian up to the front door. "Ten dollar cover, and you can't wear your hat," the bouncer tells me. Julian starts to waver and I tell him, "Julian, the cab's right there. You can get back in it, no harm no foul." I don't need to tell him twice, he's already back in the cab. Inside, I rush up to the roof where I'm sure Alan, Victor and the rest are burning a few trees. I get all the way to the top, come exploding onto the roof to find.....it's empty, dark and there's no one there. I go back down (making sure to take my Kangol off when there's a security guard around, promptly putting it back on when they leave), and find Alan, Victor, Mark Zaba, Steve Messing and Mike Sefanov on the dance floor with Alla and her friends. Dancing, drinking and debauchery ensue until the club closes and we're flushed into the street. Once out, it's food time, so we hit Taqueria Cancun, which is amazing...either because it's amazing or because we're drunk as fuck. We get out, and this is when the night gets interesting....we're walking to the car and I pull out a joint...we start smoking it, and all of a sudden Vic's girl Alla gets pissed. I can't really tell what it's about though, considering that I find it impossible that she got mad at Victor of all people for smoking. I mean, c'mon, he's a daily smoker, how can his girlfriend be pissed when he smokes, right? Well, she is...and we get to her car, she unlocks the door, gets in and drives off. Huh? She drives off. What? (you're thinking) She drives off. We're stunned for a few minutes, and then, voila, she drives back around the block and stops about a half block from us. Awesome. She came back. Actually, she came back just to let her three girlfriends in the car. They get in and she takes off, for good this time. We were supposed to be going back to Vic's, Vic, myself, Alan and the four girls. Instead, we find ourselves stranded in the middle of the Mission. We cab back to Vic's, and I wake up in my sweatpants at Mike's place. At this point, in the morning, on Mike's couch, I know what had to happen...we smoked at Vic's place, I decided it was time to go, took off and walked back to Mike's place. I get off the couch to put my jeans on to find Victor's wireless computer mouse in my pocket. If anyone has a decent guess as to why I might have taken that particular piece of electronics, do enlighten me. I get back to Vic's to return the mouse and Alan informs me that indeed, I have it all wrong...Charles showed up, after I was incoherent, and drove me back to Mike's...none of it, obviously, anything I remember. So I decide to cure my hangover by buying a new digital camera. The End.

Call Me Troll, Bitch

Monday, January 08, 2007

Call Me Troll, Bitch! Current mood: pleased So y'all have to go see Nikki! Nikki is rad, Nikki is awesome, and Nikki will play any song you want. My weekend starts on Thursday night with Christina, Brigid and Julian at Foley's in Downtown. This place is a sweet Irish pub that reminds a bit of a diner with the way different portions are partitioned off. Nikki is probably around 40, a MTF transitioner who can sing in a lady's or a man's voice and has a catalog of about 8,000 songs. Over the course of the evening she plays Moondance, Ring of Fire, Horse with No Name and some other bombastic favorites. The night goes downhill when someone orders us shots of Rumplestiltskins. At least, that's what we all hear. We down the shots and are immediately knocked flat by the raw alcohol flavor and minty aftertaste. I'm impressed that I was even able to shoot it, but then have to spend about five minutes over the toilet convincing my stomach that it's not an incompatible transplant and that it should let the shot stay. I win. Of course, it's only later that we find out that this wasn't some fun shot called a Rumplestiltskin. Noooooo...these were shots of Rumpleminze. Toootally different. For those of you that have never had it, you can check this out... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rumpleminze Not a good idea. Brigid starts going crazy, Christina falls down promptly upon leaving the bar, and I get to drive all three of them home as Julian cusses me out from the backseat about why the fuck would I possibly think of allowing him to drink that shot. I have no good answer. Friday night is interesting. After Charles, Albert and others bail from Julian's, he, myself, Mike and Sonya go to celebrate Sonya's birthday. I'd get into how weird it was that we were the only three celebrating with her, but I think it's somewhat obvious! She wants to go to Impala in North Beach, so we head out there and I pick up the five dollar cover for the group. Really, 5 bucks for a cover isn't all that bad in my opinion. Keep this in mind as it comes into play later. We get in and the crowd is pretty solid (though moreso downstairs where it costs like 300 bucks to go), and we set about the task of getting Sonya drunk. It's all shots for her, and while I thought I was in good shape, the way I react to the first red bull vodka tells me otherwise. I decide it's time for my first joint of the evening. I walk to the front door and the lady stops me and says, "there's no in and outs. If you leave you'll have to pay the cover again." "Really?" (big flirting smile on my face here) "Really." (not amused or flirting back) "But I just need to go outside for a bit." (less of a smile this time) "What for?" "To smoke." "Sir, we have a smoking patio right out there." Now, I'm not a moron. I've seen the smoking patio. I've also seen that it has a fence around it and security guards there. "You don't want me smoking on your patio." "Sir, we have a smoking patio right out there." (she says it this time like I didn't hear it the first time and emphasizes her point by pointing it out to me) I calmly repeat, "You don't want me smoking on your patio. Is there any way I can get back in?" Finally, she relents and tells me that if I tell her upon reentering that I like New England Clam Chowder, I won't have to pay the cover. I stagger across the street and find a beautiful corner to post up on and have a few tokes. I'm drunk though, and a few tokes quickly turns into about 80% of the joint. I'm getting ready to put it back in the case when a group of people turn the corner, smell the thing and I hear someone go, "Someone's smoking pot!!!" Let me just tell you fools. When you smell pot being smoked in a public area, whether you want some or not, yelling out the above isn't the greatest idea, for you or the fella smoking it. At any rate, they yell this, one of them asks me for a hit, which I reply to by handing him, to his great surprise, what's left of my joint. As I run back across the street I hear, "Dude, that dude gave me the whole thing!" I think to myself, "tonight, joints, tomorrow night, grammar." I cruise back into Impala, and here's Clam Chowder girl. As I walk up to her she says, "Cover is 10 dollars." Now what made that go up five dollars from the last time I went in? I want to laugh in her face, but instead I ask, "what if I told you I really like New England Clam Chowder?" to which she lets me in. I'm back inside for a while getting my bearings, and at this point, Sonya has used up the small reserves of Mike's dance moves, I've had another drink and Julian has taken to the floor to see what he can do. I convince Mike to come outside with me while I smoke my second joint. As we come back in, the bouncer goes, "were you smoking a joint?" I look at him real confused and say, "who? me?" and walk past him. At the door, the nice young lady looks at Mike and I and says, "Cover is 10." I look at her and say, "what if I told you that this guy really likes New England Clam Chowder?" Now she gets mad telling me that I wasn't supposed to let anyone else in with this secret code, and I'm like, chill woman, he was already in here. We get by, and now it's time for me to take on Sonya on the dance floor. At this point though, I'm in such a good mood, I'd dance with a rattle snake if it wanted to groove. The cab drops Mike, Julian and Sonya back at their place and then takes me to Christina's place, where I spend about 10 minutes, iPod on, dancing in the street, because that's just the type of place I'm in right now. Actually, I find myself dancing to my iPod in public a lot lately...the other day I spent about 15 minutes walking down a sidewalk in the city dancing from square to square. People look at me like I'm out of my mind, but what can I say? Happiness abounds. Saturday it's a wonderful life at Nini's, as I mention to Jonathan that the cajun chicken wasn't quite spicy and he makes up for it by paying for my meal. Considering Charles had the same thing it's too bad he didn't mention it too. Saturday night we head out to some place in the Mission. We won't get into Julian's alter ego Rex (as in T-Rex, ready to destroy anything in his path), but let's just say that Rex had fun chucking a few things around, including a christmas tree which he almost threw into a car. I wish I had something cool to say about Sunday, but my life experiences have made Sunday suck. I was lucky to get to sleep in a bit and see the second half of the Giants v. Eagles game. Ready to get that money tomorrow at close of escrow. See y'all next time.

Roses and Red Bull Vodkas

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Roses and Red Bull Vodkas Current mood: optimistic People! People of the sun! Hello! It's been far too long, don't you think? What can I say though? The life that is the holiday season grabbed a hold of me, shook me around for a little bit like a rag doll and then hurled me back into the day to day. December 28th was Bewaro the Sombrero, the annual all day ultimate tournament in San Mateo. Unfortunately, I didn't get to play a full day of ultimate. Fortunately, that's because I had to leave the tournament to sign off on my first sale as a realtor. Now THAT'S some hot shit. I'll backtrack to early December when a couple walked into the office off the street looking for a realtor. I was on floor, met them, got them pre-approved through a lender, and then helped them write a contract for their first home. Anyone looking for their first home should definitely be getting in touch...every person's profile is different, but in the end, my clients didn't put any money down, got 100% financing and their first month's home payment paid for through escrow. Needless to say the fact that my Bewaro team didn't win the tournament didn't get me down all that much. Close of escrow is the 9th. Friday night was a drunk one. On Saturday morning, I woke up very confused. I didn't know where I was. A little worried that I might have gone home with someone I had just met, and who's name I certainly wouldn't remember, I move my head slightly to both side to glance out of the corner of my eye for bedmates....nope, all alone. I climb out of bed, creep to the door of the room, peek into the hallway and realize that I'm at Christina's apartment. Good job me. Saturday, I manage to be real productive...I get to Nini's with Charles, watch Clerks 2 and then get over to Haight to watch Baraka on a big screen. I'll tell you something, had I known that the popcorn would be organic, the butter non-fat and the screen more scratched up than my back after a night with a raccoon, I would have stayed at home, smoked a joint and watched it on my HD. Sunday though...Sunday's a different story all together. I get up early and head down to LA at about 10 am. The trip is uneventful, aside from me singing a Justin Timberlake song at the top of my lungs (c'mon, y'all know that I DO NOT sing Justin Timberlake songs, but what can I say? It was a bit catchy)...I get to USC at about 4 pm, giving me enough time to walk around for a bit before it got dark. You never realize how much you miss campus until you get back to it. I head from there out to Andy's place in Covina. Chica's there, the pad is sweet and I start drinking from the kegerator early and often because, hey, it's New Year's Eve. He tells me we're gonna head to his roommate's house for a party, which I find to be awesome. By the time I show up, the front door opens to reveal middle aged twins. I blink twice and realize that I was seeing two of one middle aged woman, and she happens to be Andy's roommate's mother. He did not prepare me for parents. I shake her hand, pause for about two seconds as I try to gather my wits about me and say, "Ma'am, your home is so festively decorated, it's beautiful." The look that radiates from her means that I could trash the place, throw up in her laundry machine and devirginize her 15 year old daughter, and she would still see me as the nice young man who recognized her decorating skills. The party is about what you'd expect....lots of booze, a standard countdown (where I'm the only loser not kissing someone, but then again, when I went down to a random party plastered I didn't exactly figure on being able to secure a kisser by midnight), and then the beautiful part of the evening.... About 1 or so, I start looking around and realize that Andy is gone. Gone too are the two ladies that he was talking to. I mean, he asked me to be his wingman, and then he disappears with both of them, not even offering me a way back to his place? I'm more confused than mad, and the evening ends well when the roommate's dad, no doubt in love with me because his wife is, graciously offers me a ride back to Andy's. At this point, 6 of Andy's friends realize that, hey, he ditched them too, and they all hitch back. I spend the rest of the night trying to concentrate on smoking pot, which is very unsuccessful due to how drunk I am, and watching three guys compete over the same beat chick. This girl had an amazing body, a troll face and was the center of attention simply because she was the only girl in the house. I pass out on the couch very glad that I'm not a part of that competition. Monday, I wake up, not confused or lost this time, just missing my legs. I literally, upon waking up, cannot feel my legs. I look down and see that Chica has decided to sleep on me and my legs are fully asleep. Fantastic. We get out to the Rose Bowl at about 11 am, and Andy has discovered that somehow, very magically, he ended up with two tickets to a tailgate party. The tickets cost 80 bucks, and as we spend two hours drinking and eating for free, we can see why someone might pay that. We, however, did not. Cruise into the game and find ourselves on the most beautiful 50 yard line seats I've ever had for a football game. It starts out nervous...the SC fans are scared of Michigan and the Michigan fans are going wild despite the fact that they only make up 15% of the stadium. When the half ends at 3-3, the stadium has this very strange anticipatory feeling to it. But as the Trojans start to play, the fans get into it, and suddenly the game is out of hand and Michigan fans can't do anything but stand there in shocked silence. By the time the game ends, most of the Michigan fans have crept out the backdoor and the field is washed in red. I won't get into the details of the car ride home, but lets just say that Chris Reich and I undergo the Chinese water torture treatment of all car rides. I've never had so much trouble staying awake behind the wheel, and frankly, it was so painful that ritual suicide seemed preferable at the time. Now, of course, it seems like a silly idea, but last night, it might have worked. So there you have it...back to the real world. Back to 2007. Wait, I mean back to the future, or what's left of it at any rate. Welcome to the year of the secret agent...if you see me, be sure not to blow my cover, cause it's deep.