Since my dinner with Mr. Moser and Mr. Marks, I’ve been thinking about Jeff’s plan to keep his life cleaner than usual. He wants to be sober more than not which translates into him being completely clean four days a week. This is not an easy task. Think about it. Most of us go out at least five nights a week. Whether its wine with dinner, pot with The O.C. or beers at a show, most of use consume some form of toxin nearly every single evening. In an effort to take Jeff’s lead, I’ve decided to make my own run at three nights of sobriety a week. This is nearly impossible, but last night was my first chance to stare the devil in the eyes and tell her (or him, but I think women make better temptresses) to fuck off. This figured to be an easy task because I had to work a shift later that evening which meant my head couldn’t be cloudy.
Not so fast says Builder. As the door opened at 186, I was greeted by Builder who just opened a bottle of wine. The first test of the evening was thwarted with maximum efficiency. Around 7:30pm I went to the club and set up the merch table for Sleater-Kinney. By 9pm I had been offered two drinks, but managed to stick with water. The night pressed on and boredom reigned supreme, but my intentions stayed strong. While Sleater-Kinney blasted the backroom, one of the bartenders and I chatted each other up. He promised me there would be a tequila shot waiting for me once my duties were complete. Who can resist a free tequila shot? Around 12:30 things slowed down and the settling up was complete. With the notion of sobriety raging through my mind, I said quick goodbyes and bounced before any bevies hit the auction block.Stage two of my toxin free evening was complete. My only hope to finish the evening without any damage relied on my roommates being ghosts. Luckily I walked into a dark apartment. No one was available to toss me a PBR or offer a knifer. Then it happened. As I saddled up to some cookies and milk, my eyes fixed on a little piece of something on the table. A stray nugget was starring me in the face, (sorry this sounds so much like Tumbleweed). After a quick inspection, I’d confirmed its genus and began pondering what destiny had against me. Somehow the grass found its way into a pipe, but my willpower soon took over. With a lighter in hand I decided it was ridiculous for me to get stoned at this juncture of the evening. The shit was removed, and I got cozy with a couple episodes of Family Guy.
Day one of three for this week is in the books. I’d like to keep it rolling this evening which means the only thing I can order at Glenn’s Happy Hour is Coke. And I’m talking about the shit that you ingest through your mouth; not your nose. After one day, I have a ton of respect for Mia who kicked the alcohol for lent. She’s a trooper. A word up goes out to the kids who kept me company last night and the cool girl (Christine?) who was selling Kevin Devine merch.
*** Do get VH2? Would you mind if I came over Monday night? I’ll bring snacks. Sean Bones: did you buy this yet? Hook me up.*** Are you like me and missed both Interpol shows? Read what the NY Post has to say about the creatures of the night. Who would have thought they looked like kids from New York?
*** Interscope makes a smart move and signs the hotter than sin M.I.A. Look for her debut, Arular, next month from the same label who drops Trail of Dead records. I wonder how much green XL made off this deal.
*** It was destiny. Builder, get out your fork and knife.
*** The headline says Dizzy is arrested for a possession of a firearm. When did mace become a firearm? It’s funny how they equate this to Fiddy being strapped.
*** This isn’t news, but damn that picture is scary. Can you imagine being famous simply because your dad got a blow job? Oh, someone just pointed out he was also a kick ass president for eight years. Who knew?
*** Hey Reverend Dickbrain! Remember that piece of paper that entitles you to freedom of religion? It also protects our freedom of speech. You don’t see us getting all upset when you preach about living some sort of bullshit moralistic good life that will lead to a one way ticket to Fantasy Island? Religious people are dumber than the Knick’s front office. You’d think the rednecks would calm down after he received the stamp of approval by their poster boy. If you are worried about something being offensive, then read this.
*** This review by the Husky G. gets me all wet in anticipation of their Bowery gig. Everyone want to see a white kid get down? Come to the back corner.
*** The NY Times has a well written Luna sendoff.
*** Now I don’t know what the hell to call myself. If only there was a way to figure this whole gender relations issue. Speaking to Builder and Miriam sure doesn’t help things. They both believe I’m gayer than Richard Simmons on a unicorn.
4 Comments:
Coke you ingest... through your mouth?
I can't stand it when people exalt sobriety as some sort of superior state of being, but we could all use some moderation.
koala, i'm talking about coca-cola. thats the sort of thing i need these days. and that catwoman clip on your blog is hilarious.
tumbleweed, listen to you. fresh off three weeks without grass... you posuer
thanks for posting these. i wish you were going to be in austin. why doesn't someone sponsor your ass already?
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