A Busted Camera and Other Nonsense

Monday, March 05, 2007

A Busted Camera and Other Nonsense (Fri & Sat) Current mood: cheerful The relocation of my pre-partying this weekend led to an interesting set of evenings. Friday night, it all started at Vincent Chang's place…an apartment on the 37th floor of a downtown apartment building. These views were incredible, and basically felt like you were penthouse status. It was some usual Crystal cats…Charles, Alan, Vincent, Phil, Matt Goldstein, Anjali, Mona…we partied and I got my first chance to play Wii…trying Tennis, Baseball and Bowling. Pretty damn fun stuff out there for anyone that hasn't tried it! Let me just say that it's hard for me to get in the drinking mood without an hour or two of pre-drinking or Beirut. We left from there and I jumped over to meet up with T and Aliza in the Castro. I had trouble getting a cab, which meant another marathon walk from 3rd and Market to about 10th. I jumped a cab the rest of the way, and then got severely confused by the text messages saying, "come to the bar." I'm like, there's thirty bars around here! "No, the bar!" Finally, I realize she means The Bar, and I walk into a trendy gay bar with a smattering of women…mostly Aliza and her friends. The place is cool enough, but T, Zena and some others are heading over to meet up with Christina. As of 6pm on Friday, she was not very happy with me at all, so going there didn't seem like the best idea. Aliza and I hang around, kill another drink and then head out to the corner. I bring out a joint, but I'm not ready for it. The speed with which I finished my last red bull vodka combines with the pot and I feel like I want to unload everything in my stomach out onto the street. Meanwhile, as I fight nausea, Aliza is touting the benefits of going to the Marina and meeting up with the rest of them. I tell her that she's only making me want to throw up more with those kinds of ideas. I settle my stomach and put what's left of my game face back on. I tell Aliza to lead us to a bar, to which she responds, in her own neighborhood, that she doesn't know any good places. She tries to take me into this place called "Boy Bar," but I explain very nicely to her that as a straight guy and a lesbian, we should probably be exploring our options in a bar with more actual women of either orientation. We stagger down Market and I suggest the Mint. She doesn't want to do that. I suggest another bar, that one sucks. Then she tells me, "dude, no good bars are going to be open." "Aliza! It's Friday night at 12:15. If we can't find another bar to get a drink in, you're fucking fired!" She takes me to Lucky 13, which is basically a biker/punk/goth type crowd on Market. It's cool enough and we have another drink before Aliza starts looking sloppy enough to take home. We walk back to her place, relax on her couch and smoke another joint. She's convinced that there's three of us in the room, asking me about Renee, their roommate. I explain to her that Renee is most likely in bed and that there's only the two of us in the room. She asks who the third person is before realizing that this is just her seeing double of me. She excuses herself and I get to listen as she throws up in the bathroom. She then politely tells me that she's heading to bed. I walk out of her house and immediately think that buying a 22 of Mickey's for my cab ride is a fantastic idea. The cab driver looks at me sideways, but I keep the can down so he can't say anything. By the time I show up at Swig, the momentum that I lost listening to Aliza vomit has been regained through the power of Mickey's. Swig is just how I remembered it, and it's already late. I get one glass of water in there by the time last call hits, and I jump back in a cab to go home. This is where my night turns to shit. I get out of the cab at the Caltrain station and think that hell, this is the perfect time for some dancing in the street videos. I take two good ones. I'm on my third, and as I head back to the camera, I make the exuberant mistake of scooping, rather than picking it up off the ground, and watch in horrified slow motion as it somersaults, bounces off the palm of my hand, and lands lens down on the sidewalk. I almost get mad, then realize I could have prevented it. I almost cry, then realize that it's a spilled camera, so no use in that. I look at it very disappointedly, like somehow shame on you camera, get in my car and drive home. Saturday night I head up to the city with the idea of hanging out with Brigid for her birthday. I mean, c'mon people, this is Brigid we're talking about here! I start in the Sunset at a place called Ireland 32 with Damie. They're there to hear a friend of theirs play drums for the band on their cd release party. We're there for a bit when Aliza and her crew of basketball coaches make it over from 6th and Clement to meet me. Solid crew, those people. They want pizza, they get pizza. At this point, it's almost midnight (yea, I got started real real late Saturday, mostly, I think, from being exhausted from the ultimate frisbee tournament I played that day, which I then followed up with 3 taco supremes, 2 gorditas and a chalupa from Taco Bell). You can call me a chalupa! Aliza, again, is agitating to go to the Marina, which is odd because she wanted to go there Friday night, and here she is again going after it. The difference is that tonight, we have a crew to meet there…Cella, maybe Julian and some others for Nicky Gillette's birthday party. We walk into Mauna Loa, and the excitement that was moving Aliza towards the marina fades when she enters and sees what she will only refer to as "straight white America." She begins to get agitated. I explain to her that A) she had wanted to go to the marina, what did she expect? B) we're only there to meet some people, and C) I happen to be straight and white, so she should stop trying to stereotype it all. All of a sudden, I'm seeing shades of Aliza wanting to fight. Talking loudly about the people she doesn't like in the bar, getting aggressive when someone bumps into her, and yelling at some poor girl playing the arcade basketball machine…the girl misses a few shots and Aliza "Michael Jordan" Parpia yells out, "What the hell are you doing?!" I take her away from the game and back towards the bar. Mike and Julian never show up. I don't know what their story is. We head outside, and Joanna, our companion on this little adventure into straight white America, is confused as to why I'm not taking a cab with them. I explain the triangle that is the city to her, and how her destination and mine are on different ends of that. She gets it, hops in the cab with Aliza, and they're gone. I stagger up to Bar None where I had seen JK walking to while we were outside Mauna Loa. We hang out for a bit, and then he heads home, I head up the street, walk around the corner, sit down and smoke until the infamous Maurod the Cabbie shows up to drive me back to Damie's, where much to Derek's dismay, I smoke him out at 3:30 am before passing out. Another successful night in the city. Stay tuned.

Saturday's Sense of Gravity

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Saturday's Sense of Gravity Current mood: cold After running to the city to retrieve my phone, having Nini's and then working for the rest of the day, Saturday night can't seem to come soon enough. I take a short nap and reload with a bonne sante sandwich, before showering and jumping in the car. Weird to have a starting destination other than Mike and Julian's place, but it's to Damie's I go to meet up with them and Charles. Apparently, they're all a wreck. Actually, that's probably an understatement when you're talking about three individuals that left the Cat Club the night before, passed out, and then got up and started drinking at 10 in the morning, not to stop all day. I come in with three 12s of coors light, and hear nothing but groans and moans over the fact that I'm going to make them drink more beer. It's a later start, but I get into a rhythm with the Beirut, and learn their new three player version of the game. The party we're aiming for is one of Pat's friends birthday parties. They've rented out Gravity, and I can tell you from experience that whenever one of Pat's friends or group rents out a bar for a party, you should always try to attend. On the way, Charles tells me that there's an evite for the party, and he's not sure if he put plus one to get us in or not. There will be a guestlist at the door. We hop out of the cab and head up. Bouncer asks the name, Charles says Charles. "Which guest list are you on?" Charles hesitates, the bouncer smells fear. "The evite one." "Whose?" "I don't know, the evite." "Have you two been smoking pot?" (in unison) "Yes." "I'm just fucking with you. Come on in, have a good time." We walk in and see the usual suspects…Pat, Vincent Chang, Matt Goldstein. The place is fucking packed. I feel like a sardine and a fish out of water all at the same time. I spend ten minutes trying to get 12 feet to the doorway to the bathroom, only to be told that that's the kitchen, not the bathroom, and I can't come in. I then fight ten minutes back to the original spot I left, to have to change direction and go towards the bathroom. While I don't remember all that much of it, I can tell from the evidence this morning that I spent quite some time taking pictures, most from about waist level up (as in I was holding the camera at my waist and taking pictures). My morning consists of a walk from Hayes and Clayton to 8th and Judah. Next up…Sunday night tomfoolery at Behan's.

Cell Phone Stupidity

February 24, 2007

Cell Phone Stupidity
Current mood: grateful

"Adam, wake up."

"go away."

"Adam, wake up. You need to go to the city."

This is Jessie poking me. "Call Eddy, in the city, he has your phone." I'm not sure how that happened. I better retrace my steps. I'm not wearing my clothes, so at least I know I got them off before getting in bed.

My shoes are in the bathroom, that's a good sign that I brushed my teeth. I remember coming in from the garage, I think I was singing, and Jessie was telling me to be quiet.

She drove us home. We walked back to the car from Mike's place after I went up there to get my backpack and ipod. I had gone up after the cab dropped us off. Shit. There goes my phone.

The cab picked us up after I had finished my bacon wrapped hot dog with everything on it. That hot dog was pretty special. Especially the bacon. I thought I was dying and being reborn all at the same time.

We got the hot dogs after I stumbled out the front door of the side entrance to the upstairs part of the Cat Club. I finished my drink after I ordered it and talked to some people. Before that, four girls molested me in the back room, taking seductive pictures with me. They do this with so much glee and energy that the only thing I can think of is they're trying to get photos with a random guy to make an ex boyfriend jealous. This all happened after I came out of the bathroom, where I didn't throw up.

I had been in the bathroom giving myself a pep talk. My stomach wanted to get rid of the tequila I had put in it, and my mind was telling me that this was a poor idea. I found my way there after almost tripping down the stairs in a hazy fog. I had been up in an office when everyone was ready, locked and poured the tequila shots.

It was great tequila, or so it must have been by the way everyone raved when the owner of the building pulled it out. This guy was tight as hell. Of all the people I could imagine owning the building that the Cat Club is in, I don't know that I would have pictured a fortyish year old asian guy with hair down to his shoulders. Good old Patrick.

Patrick knows Goo and David, whose birthday party we were there celebrating. The upper room there I usually not available, or very expensive to rent out. In fact, Patrick says that they rarely open it out to anyone but their good friends, and obviously, as we're partying there, Goo and David qualify. I got the pleasure of sitting next to him after he waved me to the chair and told me to have a seat. Everyone there had followed for the joint. I swear, sometimes I feel like the pied piper for pot heads. Patrick says to spark that. He doesn't hit it, but I must say that smoking in the building owner's office upstairs was pretty awesome.

I had been looking for a place to smoke when David told me to follow him upstairs. I had just come from talking to Jessie's co-worker Murray, who I briefly considered chucking into a brick wall. I knew that this type of rage would not go unpunished, and headed away from him.

We're three drinks or so deep when the Jessie work crowd shows up…Robin, Murray and some others. D-amie, Charles and the rest are already there. Go go dancers shake that shit as I finish my first drink at the bar.

I walk up the stairs very confused. I've been to the Cat Club, but since when is there a separate entrance to go to an upstairs bar? Since when is there an upstairs bar for that matter?

The cab drops us off at the corner and Jessie and I head for the club. There's two lines, and I can tell from the drunk straight guys waiting by the second door that that's the birthday party we're looking for.

We walk to the bart station to catch a cab. It's fucking freezing out.

We tidy up Mike and Julian's place after our last game of Beirut. I amuse myself by arranging the empties to spell out "JC" on the counter. Either they'll think Jesus is sending them a message or they'll know that I have much love for Julian.

Mike, Sonya, Julian and Sean leave to head out to some bar somewhere. I can't get more detailed than this as I have no idea where they went.

We play a few games of Beirut after I park my car.

Jessie and I leave the house about 8 o'clock to head up to the city. Rockstar/vodka in hand for the ride.

So let me tell you about the night I lost my phone.

Grown Ass Men and Women

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Grown Ass Men and Women Current mood: chipper Let me tell you about the party. I'll tell you about the party that ends all parties. Let me tell you about the evening to end all evenings...about jokes and tokes, chicks and blokes, friends and home folks. Let me tell you of the endless vodka, the bottomless platters of food, the joints that would not end and the music that would not stop. This, my friends, is the story of the Grown Ass Man Party. The evite, titled, "Somehow I became a grown ass man," is for Alan's 25th birthday. As this is a milestone, and as law school graduation is fast approaching, his parents decided to throw a bash for the occasion. And let me tell you something...Alan's family doesn't fuck around. At all. The evite lists 66 yeses, but we're probably talking a bit over 120 when you start counting the family members and family friends that never got the evite. Hosted at the Fandorin restaurant in Burlingame, the venue is beautiful. One side of the restaurant/club are windows looking onto the water, tables are set up everywhere and there's a bar/dance floor at the front. At about 7:45, Julian, Cella, Sonya, Kelsey, Morty, Christina and myself roll in to find the first event of the night...a red wine social accompanied by the soft sounds of a jazz trio. Everyone's there...we're talking Miller, Masarsky, Avidor, Vic, Charles, Loesche, Fong, Ferrer, Lane, Arturro, Phil, Jordan, Will and Carew, JK, Dawson, Sandra, Derek and Mamie, Sutton, Mona, Vitaly, and really, I can go on, but who wants to read a list? Let's just say it was a reunion of sorts. The tables are filled with the appetizers and strategically placed bottles of Ketel One. Everywhere. Everyone meets and greets for a bit, and about 8:15 or so we get the call to sit down. People start digging into the food...raw fish, cold meats, shrimp cocktail served in hollowed out pineapples, tomato and mozzarella salads, more vodka. People dig in while speeches are made, Alan's dad who tells of Alan's mom worrying that he had a non-existent social life in middle school, ironic considering the three full tables of friends that grace the event. Vic and Alan's mom give speeches, and then a bunch of people I either didn't know or don't remember. By the time the main course arrives at the table, I'm 2/8 joints deep (don't ask me how I ended up with 8 rolled joints, it certainly wasn't my intention at the time I was rolling), and several drinks in. As people shoot vodka or mix it with orange juice or cranberry, I've secretly set up a private bar underneath my chair that consists of numerous cans of red bulls to mix with my vodka. I start getting drunker. More drunk. Whatever. I think it's at this point that an unnamed couple goes outside to have sex. They leave soon after to head back to the city. Derek's looking shifty about this time, and the pictures I have prove it. The food comes out in droves, but everyone is a bit too fucked up to care about eating...in fact at this point, most of the concentration is on drinking, dancing or smoking outside. A moment of hilarity ensues when Sandra introduces herself to Christina as "devil woman," or something along those lines, which is a bit shocking to me considering I hadn't said anything negative to Christina about her...seems a bit overly self-persecuting (pitying?) as well. I think, "I'm Sandra" might have worked just as well. I watch from afar as they have a conversation, which I'm sure has Christina wondering why she wasn't able to avoid it when she was definitely trying to. I'd interrupt, but hey, really not my place! At this point, the party turns into a haze. There's an amazing couple of moments as Dawson and Alan rip a drum duet to the delight of the entire crowd. They jam for a good ten minutes, ripping it apart. Crowd goes nuts. More smoking, more drinking. DJ comes on and people start dancing. I remember one point, that sums up the extravagance of the evening well...I'm sitting at the table pouring myself a drink. I'm literally the only one sitting at a table, everyone else is up and about, dancing or outside. As I'm sitting there, I watch as four waiters start bringing out trays of cakes and desserts, placing them strategically throughout the tables. I look at all this food and realize that not only am I the only one sitting down, but no one in the room is gonna even come close to touching those desserts! But they keep bringing them out, putting more food down on already abandoned tables. The party starts dwindling around 3 am...Derek comes to me and tells me, "Mamie says she's cool to drive." to which I start laughing uncontrollably and ask him just how drunk he is. I'm fucked up, but I know I'm not getting into any car driven by anyone who's been at this party. I tell him to send Mamie over and she tells me, "the pot straightened me out," to which I laugh even harder. The order comes down for a cab, it shows up, we hop in and get home around 3:30. For all the hype about this party beforehand, I must say, it lived up to all of it. A bottle of vodka would get finished, and a new one would show up. There was so much food people stopped eating and it piled up on plates on empty tables. The DJ was sick and everyone danced, including a very drunk Alan's dad, who when I left was standing in the corner of the club smoking cigarettes. Mass congrats to my boy Alan, who joins the ranks of 25 year olds among us, and to his parents, for throwing one of the most unbelievable parties, both in terms of amenities and crowd, that I've ever had the pleasure of attending. For those of you interested, there's a few pictures of the party up in the profile...I'll be working on uploading more throughout the week, as there's some good ones. The rest of the weekend is pretty much recovery...Saturday night I fall asleep early, even after trying to nap in the day so I can party again. Sunday, I run the open house. By the way...Sunday nights at Beehan's on Broadway? Check it out...one of the only open bars, they have karaoke, and everytime I've been there, it's been ridiculous. Stop by on a Sunday, you'll probably find me there from now on! Up next...Part 2 of "I don't like this cat, it reads minds" followed by the USC Alum mixer on Wednesday night. Shit, with a holiday week, that's tomorrow! Awesome.

Days of Hearts and Flowers

Friday, February 16, 2007

Days of Hearts and Flowers Current mood: working Yesa, I'm speaking about Valentine's Day. I'm speaking of that day of days when all the sad sap relationships that haven't had any romance in ten years break out the flowers and candy to try to rekindle it all again. I'm speaking of the day where relationships freshly budding find more stomach butterflies to lift them up on gossamer wings of the giddy feeling that only that feeling can give you. It's the day when shit gets ruined if it doesn't go well, things go up if it does, and others stay stagnant if they're simply moving sideways. Finally, it's the day for the single people of the world to do one of two things...wallow in their misery and sorrow and cry for themselves, or go out and have a great time because they're not spending money or worrying about shit but themselves. Personally speaking, I see a few sides to Valentine's Day. I've been in relationships during, I've been single during, and I also try to keep the third eye looking at the fact that seriously, it's a great consumer day for selling more in between Christmas and Easter. So this Valentine's Day, I tried to think about the last few. Although it seems like a year since my last relationship, it's not even close to that long, so I count back a few and realize that this is my first single Vday in 4 years. I feel like I should have some sort of graduation party to dance in the street. I know that the best person for this type of dancing is probably Aliza. The plan is to get a few games of beirut in before meeting her somewhere in the mission, but on the drive up 101, I find myself next to Wolfklain. We pull a talk on cell phone while driving next to each other move that certainly has those behind us ticked, and when I ask what he's doing tonight, he tells me that he was just about to call his ex girlfriend. GREAAAAT Idea I tell him. Come with me instead. We get to the Mission, La Rondella is the destination for margaritas. Try them there, they're strong. The three of us then migrate, but there's a bit of a problem...Tyler keeps trying to lead us places and all his moves are wrong. I think secretly that in the back of his brain a late night ex girlfriend call is on his mind, and he's leading us blindly to a slaughtered evening. He takes us to Blondie's, which for as pleasant as the bartender is is pretty dead. We have a few drinks and then get the word that T and the rest are at the Lex. Now, I have a funny relationship with the Lex. It stands for the Lexington Club, down in the mission. I first heard about it when I saw a bulletin board post asking for people to do a survey about it. I thought lex might stand for something I had tried, so I got two questions in and when I said, no, I hadn't been to the Lexington Club, the survey was over. Ooops. So my chance finally arrived to visit the infamous lesbian bar, and I was impressed with how chill it was. It's got a pool table, spacious bar, attentive bartenders, and you didn't feel like you were constantly elbowing for room for yourself. Maybe this had something to do with the fact that it was a Wednesday night, but it was good. There's no glares of "what are you doing here, you're out of place," just a good relaxed atmosphere. T, their new roommate Rene(e?), Julia and some other girls were there. Now, the funny part is that Tyler, who last weekend (blog "Transfers") took me to a gay bar, get's alllll uncomfortable at the lesbian bar. Someone tell me what that bullshit's about. Charles shows up a little later in the evening to meet everyone, and Christina follows. The amusing part of the evening is when T and Aliza's new roommate wants to leave and I tell her she should stay and be entertained, and if I can't keep her entertained for 2 minutes, she can go. Before she has a chance to question this, I start talking...real animated, questions, answers, hand gestures, comments about the bar and my evening in general...I get to the end and I look at her and say, "guess what? I just entertained you for 120 seconds." She sticks around after that, and damn if I'm not stoked that two of the coolest girls I know have an awesome roommate. We leave the bar to hit Taqueria Cancun, steak and sour cream burrito, what what! After that, it's a morning hung over car ride back to the Peninsula. Tune in this weekend for the party event of the year, The Grown Ass Man Party.

Throwin Bows (Saturday)

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Throwin Bows (Saturday) Current mood: cold Saturday was probably the most sluggish I've been on an evening out lately. A hung over Saturday teamed up with a ridiculously large Nini's breakfast put me pretty much under the table all day. I had to rally at 6 to go to the housewarming party for the couple I bought the condo for. They've created in an incredible home, and it was excellent to know I played a huge role in that process. As a result though, I get to the city late and start beirut late, and the food at the housewarming didn't really agree with my drinking agenda. It takes me two red bull vodkas, a lot of heckling from Charles to get my game face on, and that doesn't even happen til around 11. We've accompanied Julian and his friend to City, and we both start getting antsy to go. He calls up Will and we hop in a cab to the Mission to meet up with him, his roommate, and his girlfriend Carew (sorry if I'm butchering that). We head out to the Elbo Room, another venue I hadn't been to before, and this place was tight. Pool table, packed lower floor, and a room upstairs we elected not to go to for virtue of saving cover. Charles and I sit there, and see Will's roommate talking to a girl, so we don't want to interrupt. We spend five minutes chatting about his chances, what's going down, and how the girl looks a lot like Will's girlfriend. It isn't until we walk over to kick it with him that we realize it is and feel like we've had the dumbest conversation for ten minutes. We stay out until about two, cab it back from Will's, and you can get the lack of craziness in the night by the fact that we drove home from Mike's when we got there. It was a good, fun, relaxed evening in comparison to the insanity that was Friday. In other news, I got my HD tivo in and connected. Tivo helped free me from the family room, but I still had a teather when it came to HD. Now, the leashes have all been cut, and I'll never, ever, not even for an HD sporting event, need to stay home again if I have something better to do. Not that I made any sort of habit of that before, but now it's all out the window and all bets are off. If you or anyone you know wants to buy my old Tivo, I'm offering a fantastic deal on it, so get at me. In the meanwhile, prepare for Friday night debauchery.

Transfers (Friday Night)

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Transfers (Friday Night) Current mood: chipper So Alan pointed out to me this weekend that I should now refer to beirut followed by pre-party at City Tavern as "Default." I thought the idea was stellar. Friday, I play a few games of beirut before Jullan, Cella, Sonya, Sean, Eric Boyle from UCLA and myself head out to Ace Wasabi's for dinner. We don't even get there until around 10, but we get seated right away. Sets of sake ensue. The food comes and for some reason the smell just doesn't sit right with me. I go outside to smoke. As I'm back inside, waiting for the bathroom, a waitress walks by and says, "Is someone smoking pot in the bathroom?!?!" She's very concerned, but I give her the very firm, "no," and she looks at me with a suspicious grin and asks, "were you smoking it outside?" This happens to be Cella's favorite part of the evening. From there we head to City Tavern where Julian has created a new drink. He calls it the Wizard's Sleeve, although it's pointed out to him that that's actually a slang word for a vagina, so he changes it to a Merlin. Merlins consist of Rumpleminze (yea, see my fabulous description of that in a previous post where I almost would have rather drank vomit), butterscotch schnapps and something else. The resulting drink tastes a lot like a thin mint that you could destroy yourself with. It almost puts me down for good. I get the call to bounce and head to North Beach to pick up Tyler who's with Matt and Amara. From there, we cruise to Cat Club, only to find out that there's a cover that neither Matt nor Amara want to pay. I'm down for whatever at that point, but they don't want to so we head to another bar. I miss the name of it. When Matt and Amara cut out on us, Tyler tells me that there's two girls he knows at another bar, and we should head over there. Two girls sounds great, so we go. We walk in, and I don't see any girls. Like, literally, I don't see ANY. As I start looking around, I realize that not only is it short on girls, but most of the guys are locked into some type of embrace. This is when it hits me that Tyler has taken me to Transfer, a gay bar on 14th and Church. Now, this is exciting for me...I obviously have to give up any ambitions I had of meeting someone for the evening, but it does get to be chalked up as my first time in a gay bar, and I'm all about the new experiences, so that works out fine. And the girls Tyler had us come out for are very cute. And very tricky. They ask me what I do in a polite and curious way. I tell them, filling them in on details when they ask. I politely return the question to get, "guess." Now, my mom didn't raise an idiot. I might have dull moments, but I'm not an idiot, and the "guess" is like a woman asking, "how old do you think I look?" there are no winners here. So I go with the safety response, students, to get a "that's right, but what kind of students?" I guess art, and I'm right again. Turns out they're metal workers. Interesting. I had guessed sculptor and digital media. We're there so Tyler can see this girl Monster. Literally, they call her Monster. I don't know why, but I'm also fairly certain that I don't want to find out. And I won't get to. The lights come up, 2 am is upon us, and they start moving people out of the bar. I start wandering along and Tyler grabs my arm and goes, no no, stay. Turns out, one of the bartenders is celebrating his last evening, and as soon as the last of the regular patrons are out, they lock the door and keep serving drinks. I've never been in a full bar past 2 before, as I was pretty sure it was illegal, so drinking free drinks in there until 3:30 is a novel idea. About that time, it's time to go. Miraculously, after I leave the bar, I end up exactly where I wanted to be. Where's that, you might ask. Well friend, that's for another story.

Drunk, Stood Up, Fed and Crazy

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Drunk, Stood Up, Fed and Crazy Current mood: bouncy Wow. That's all I have to say this morning. Wow. That was a doozy of a night. Probably one of the more random, drawn out and surprising evenings of the last six months. I'm not sure where to begin, so I guess I have to start with this....if you're with me, and I need to go meet up with someone, either don't go, or don't allow me to go. I apparently have wretched luck with people telling me to meet them places and then leaving before I get there, or right when I get there. I guess this all starts on Tuesday with an IM from Erin. She says the blogs are fun and she and some girlfriends need to have a good time out and wanted to know if they could tag along with me. Now, the way she says this, it sounds to me like they're coming up for the city night with me experience, so I feverishly start working on a plan for the evening. There's tons of things going down, so it doesn't look like it will be too hard to do some mass hopping for the evening. However, then I find out that "tag along with you," actually means, "we're going to dinner in the city and might try to meet up with you"...two very different things, but I think, hey, that's cool, saves me planning an evening for girls! So you might expect me to jump into starting with beirut at this point. Not the case. I actually start earlier, at 5, at Tres Agaves in the city. Margaritas at happy hour with Julian's work buddies. From there, I hit McD's for a quick snack and then head to Mike's place where we start beirut at around 7. Derek shows up around 8 or so and we keep playing until a little later, 9 or 10ish, and then head out. We're in the process of looking for a cab when Charles picks up his cell phone and is actually just minutes away, nay, seconds, as he turns the corner and picks us up. We head out to North Beach for Miller's housewarming party. Props to Miller on this new place...it's huge, beautifully redone hardwood floors, small balcony, updated kitchen, immaculate. It's a no heels party, so girls are taking off their shoes and putting on little slipper things. It's at this point that the rampant text messaging starts, and where I learn the lesson I should have learned with Brandon last week...don't go someplace in the city just because someone says they're there. They won't be by the time you make it there. Charles and Derek are ready to bounce, so we decide to head to Dolce where Erin and her group is. Big mistake. After walking blocks to get there, we get in line and the text message reads, "we're not at dolce anymore, we're at Boss," wherever the fuck that is. Charles laughs at me for once again being stood up, first by Brandon last week at Zebra/Velvet, and this time by Erin. He wants to be absolutely certain that I'm not intending a trip across town to Boss. I assure him that this will not be happening. We head instead to Fuse where we get a drink or two (at this point, I really have no idea), and Charles and Derek are ready to go. But Charles' car is one way, Derek's place another, and Mike's, where my car is, in a third. I tell Charles to go ahead and take Derek home, I'll catch a cab. This is not as easy as I might have anticipated. Every cab has someone in it. Every cabbie I know isn't driving. I start walking. Now, keep in mind I'm around the strip clubs in North Beach...I light my joint and keep walking. And walking. And walking. My trek takes me through downtown, across Market and I end up in front of the Gold Club. At this point it's around 2:30 am or so, I call Victor thinking that he might be home to smoke a joint. He's actually a block away from Gold Club with his crew of merry pranksters. Their intent...breakfast at the strip club. Now, at this point, I'm too faded too say no, but I'm also too faded to understand why we don't end up going in. I think they might have stopped serving food, and everyone had to eat. Instead we head to Mel's. I order a patty melt and a vanilla malt. The girl across from me, with some name Biata or something (I think she said Miata with a B?) tries to take most of it. I inform her this will not be happening as I hover over my food like a guardian troll. We finish eating, and big money bags Simon at the end of the table tells us about this game that he likes to play. Credit card roulette. You put everyone's credit card in, and have the waitress draw them randomly behind her back. The last card in her hand is the one that pays for the entire meal. We're sitting 8 deep at Mel's now, but I figure, there's no way I'll get this tab, so I agree. As the waitress starts pulling cards, it's Alan that's in the clear first, then JK, then Vic, mine, and then bam, like some stroke of ultimate cosmic karma, the last card she's holding is Simon's. And he's not happy about it. Apparently, while he brought this game up with a smile on his face, and had played it before...he had never actually lost. Having never tasted defeat in credit card roulette before, his jaw drops and he proclaims, "I'm never playing this game again." Yea, that must suck to lose, but if he always plays, and always plays because he's never lost, I can only say he had to be due. We head back, but I know what happens if I go up for a smoke at Vic's, and I'm not spending the night there. No no, instead, my brilliance leads me to walk back to Mike's. On the way, I start a new habit of clandestine videography. I pick a place, set the camera up on the ground or on a railing, hit record and dance. You always see the iPod commercials with the dancing, and I've always wished more people danced in public, so I've decided that late night, or in odd spots where I can put my camera down for a bit, I'll be doing some undercover dancing...I take two or three videos last night before I pick up my shit, jump in my car and drive home, arriving at 4:30 am, almost twelve hours exactly since I left for Tres Agaves. That was just about as crazy as one evening gets. And now to do it again (with some variation, I'm sure), tonight. Followed by the super bowl tomorrow. Hopefully I'll still be living on Monday.

"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.