Ok so you can pretty much ignore this, all my posts are pretty legit and entertaining(so I hope).
But I have to make this post.
Oh my holy fucking god, do I fucking love Rx Bandits(music band). I cannot begin to tell you and if I did it would take so much time for anyone to read, but more for me to type. Let's just say it would probably be close the the length of everything I've typed this month(I'd say period but there's that one long first entry, can I really type that much? holycrap).
Anyways, I've seen them 3 times not ithink and I always glow for atleast a week. Like eh um, pregnant woman? girl who got laid for the first time in a year? I dunno, like those gals that glow for whatever reason, I can't recall one at the moment. They are just amazing live, Matt(vocalist) will interact with the band, they have amazing free form antics, the last couple of times I've seen them, a drum off of sorts -- and last time a member of their opener Good Old War was all up in that drum off shit! The first time I saw them a member or two of another opener, Desa, jumped up and did harmonies on "Prophetic"! It's just always an awesome experience every time. I've never been dissapointed in a show.
And I won't even get in to albums. Their older third wave "Halfway between here and there" is an awesome third wave ska type album. It wasn't the first album I heard but I love (all)ska already so it was a win. Progress is excellent. The Resignation, which was the first I heard changed my life and I wont go in to it, maybe another time. ...And The Battle Begun, was an amazing album. The latest, Mandala, is also fucking amazing. After that brief rundown of more or less their album history I will stop myself.
I'll close it with:
<3the bandits.
( Sorry for waisting your time readers ;p )
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Drivers
So I was recently on a road trip. I drove from a little north of san antonio to colorado. Denver more specifically, to see Death Cab for Cutie at the legendary Red Rocks amphitheater. That was my first time driving out of state, that was my first road trip where I had to pay attention so we didn't get lost. It was amazing and great and that's another story, here's mine right now.
I went to the grocery store the other day, which is about an hour away. I didn't hit the old shitty town I work in(I can say that cause I work and live in the county), I went elsewhere. Not boerne mind you. anyways, I was stuck behind this old white car, I don't know what it was but it was older. Not super old but late 90s early 00. So I'm stuck, this fucking car, I couldn't tell. Either they were drunk off their ass at 2pm or the car was so fucked up they couldn't handle it right, they swirved so much and braked on every little turn there was, we were doing about 45 or 50 in a 60 zone. I don't recall the license plate which probably means it was a texan plate. But I'm sitting there thinking "god damn you fucker, don't you know how to drive?" I did think "Maybe they aren't from around these parts and maybe they are taking it slow cause they don't know the road" but in a place like this, on this rural ass road you tend to think they're from around here which made me think they were drunk, or atleast it was a shit-ass car. My sister amidst my mild ranting said maybe they don't know it. But in a car like that how much of a chance is there that they are visiting somewhere? I mean really? And what's more is that when I finally had the chance to pass him, he gunned it so I couldn't, though he didn't realize I'm in a recent model dodge truck and I can hit 80-85 to pass while he can't. Fuckers.
So all of that in mind, I think it's nuts, really weird actually, that we as a state, as a county or city look at a car and assume so much based on the driving. I could have been mistaken, maybe it was someone visiting friends or family. But after my trip, driving mind you, to colorado.. I never would have even given it a thought. I never would have wondered if they were local or not, just assumed they were local and plastered. It's just weird to think about, random strange weird shit that happens to you on the road can be from a number of things, not just out of state or drunk, it could be anything. Seeing the difference between Texas, New Mexico and colorado drivers changed that for me. It really did and I'm amazed at the weird shit that you think of after being somewhere other than home, even if home is just a state or county and not your literal home. I'm baffled, really. It also gives me some sort of comfort, I suppose it's that I know I'm from here, so to speak, that this is what I am, who we are and it differs so much depending on purely a god damn county or state line. It's nuts.
I went to the grocery store the other day, which is about an hour away. I didn't hit the old shitty town I work in(I can say that cause I work and live in the county), I went elsewhere. Not boerne mind you. anyways, I was stuck behind this old white car, I don't know what it was but it was older. Not super old but late 90s early 00. So I'm stuck, this fucking car, I couldn't tell. Either they were drunk off their ass at 2pm or the car was so fucked up they couldn't handle it right, they swirved so much and braked on every little turn there was, we were doing about 45 or 50 in a 60 zone. I don't recall the license plate which probably means it was a texan plate. But I'm sitting there thinking "god damn you fucker, don't you know how to drive?" I did think "Maybe they aren't from around these parts and maybe they are taking it slow cause they don't know the road" but in a place like this, on this rural ass road you tend to think they're from around here which made me think they were drunk, or atleast it was a shit-ass car. My sister amidst my mild ranting said maybe they don't know it. But in a car like that how much of a chance is there that they are visiting somewhere? I mean really? And what's more is that when I finally had the chance to pass him, he gunned it so I couldn't, though he didn't realize I'm in a recent model dodge truck and I can hit 80-85 to pass while he can't. Fuckers.
So all of that in mind, I think it's nuts, really weird actually, that we as a state, as a county or city look at a car and assume so much based on the driving. I could have been mistaken, maybe it was someone visiting friends or family. But after my trip, driving mind you, to colorado.. I never would have even given it a thought. I never would have wondered if they were local or not, just assumed they were local and plastered. It's just weird to think about, random strange weird shit that happens to you on the road can be from a number of things, not just out of state or drunk, it could be anything. Seeing the difference between Texas, New Mexico and colorado drivers changed that for me. It really did and I'm amazed at the weird shit that you think of after being somewhere other than home, even if home is just a state or county and not your literal home. I'm baffled, really. It also gives me some sort of comfort, I suppose it's that I know I'm from here, so to speak, that this is what I am, who we are and it differs so much depending on purely a god damn county or state line. It's nuts.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Trapped
So I stepped outside. It was nice. It's maybe the mid to low 70s could even be 80s. But this 103+ weather has me thinking low 90s feels good.
Anyways, it's nice out. I wanted to stay out there forever, thinking that if I did morning would never come, or if it did I would never have to leave for work the next morning. I'm sure at one point I would have realized. Probably when the sun started to rise, but I can't do that to myself on a thursday. oh no no no. But I also knew that if I came inside everything would be real, I'd have the little clock in the bottom right of my screen, or a clock by my bed or one run on a battery with a face on my wall. I was torn. I am torn.
I am trapped halfway between here and there.
Anyways, it's nice out. I wanted to stay out there forever, thinking that if I did morning would never come, or if it did I would never have to leave for work the next morning. I'm sure at one point I would have realized. Probably when the sun started to rise, but I can't do that to myself on a thursday. oh no no no. But I also knew that if I came inside everything would be real, I'd have the little clock in the bottom right of my screen, or a clock by my bed or one run on a battery with a face on my wall. I was torn. I am torn.
I am trapped halfway between here and there.
Language(s)
I don't even really know how to begin this. There are times my thoughts are so clogged.. Mind you, this is not from anything other than my own brain; It's not the alcohol, sleep deprivation or anything else I do that one could say change thought process or clog the brain from pulsing the way it should.
It's that I have so much to say and so many thoughts flying around that they butt heads and battle for supremacy or that there are too many loose ends. If I do not truly know an answer or am not satisfied with my conclusion, they fly around desperately trying to find an answer, no matter how calm I may appear on the surface. For me this can result in "zoning out" or more simply put "Sorry, I wasn't here. I was somewhere else" as my father so often puts it, which to me is righteous and elegant in its own sense. Follow that up with a mischievous grin and you have yourself quite the valid answer to why you weren't listening, or stopped mid conversation. That's no scapegoat either my friends.
One more quick addition. I've been writing stories. Tales, tall, wise, bleak, unusual or boring as they may be. This isn't a story, this is an... assumption of sorts. an analysis, a speculation an observation, it's one or all of those things.
Anyways onwards and let's pick it up.
Languages. There are so many. More than probably you and I could count! I could list off the 5 to 10 or more I can think of but that would be pointless, you all know a few you can pick off from up yonder. But, the thing is, the thing that fascinates me is that if you don't even know a language you can still use the persons body to atleast try and figure some of it out. By the same token they can do the same if they don't understand you and are asking a question. More times than not I suppose it doesn't often work out, infact that can muddy things up more. But to go beyond the initial verbal language barrier, to a deeper meaning and one that probably surpasses two butting languages all together, the body language can do oh so much more.
I was watching a movie tonight. I actually quite literally just finished it. I noticed, this girl.. erm Tom Cruise's currant wife, unneccesary as that might be, it's who it was. Was trying to tell this writer that while his book was good it was a bit heavy on explanations, he went in to the history of the horses the family owned with no real reasoning other than he thought it all up before hand. While she's trying to tell him this she conveys with her hand(she was sitting on a bed) how truely hard it was and how she really didn't want to tell him about it all with her hand, motioning from her stomach up and toward him. As if she was fighting throwing up something she just ate in front of a bunch of people out of shame and embarrassment. While that may not be exactly what she felt it could appear to be truly from her body language. Or the way a girl can shift her weight from one side of her body to the other making her little hip pop out a bit combined with a bite of a lip and an eye roll to express that she's embarrassed but also highly flattered at something you just did or said. Guys tend to shrink back a bit and look down with a grin that he probably didn't want you to see to convey the exact same thing. Some people like myself will start sipping a beverage, whether alcoholic or not to express his anxiety in a social situation. Also, everyone says there's a look in the eye, A LOOK PURELY IN AN EYE(apparently eyes convey emotion more than purely watering out of saddness) before he's going to hit you or doing something violent.
There are truly so many things you can do purely with your body rather than even saying anything and more times than not if you pay enough attention you can tell what someone really means with their words by watching the body. Even as much as you probably don't want to, there are, for sure situations you yourself have been in where you didn't want to say or couldn't where your pure body language said it all. I know I try to keep it in check, so that no one can ever really tell... For me I supposed it's a defense, if I wake up the next day knowing I fucked up I can atleast try to say I meant it differently rather than what I might have meant, but if my body had shown it, everyone knows I'm full of shit. But there are many many times when don't get me wrong, people have misjudged me and what I said or did. Hell, even animals do it. It's purely nuts, I tell ya! These kinds of things astound me at times and as much as I want to know exactly why people do it I think it's better off a mystery, it's almost more real that way.
It's that I have so much to say and so many thoughts flying around that they butt heads and battle for supremacy or that there are too many loose ends. If I do not truly know an answer or am not satisfied with my conclusion, they fly around desperately trying to find an answer, no matter how calm I may appear on the surface. For me this can result in "zoning out" or more simply put "Sorry, I wasn't here. I was somewhere else" as my father so often puts it, which to me is righteous and elegant in its own sense. Follow that up with a mischievous grin and you have yourself quite the valid answer to why you weren't listening, or stopped mid conversation. That's no scapegoat either my friends.
One more quick addition. I've been writing stories. Tales, tall, wise, bleak, unusual or boring as they may be. This isn't a story, this is an... assumption of sorts. an analysis, a speculation an observation, it's one or all of those things.
Anyways onwards and let's pick it up.
Languages. There are so many. More than probably you and I could count! I could list off the 5 to 10 or more I can think of but that would be pointless, you all know a few you can pick off from up yonder. But, the thing is, the thing that fascinates me is that if you don't even know a language you can still use the persons body to atleast try and figure some of it out. By the same token they can do the same if they don't understand you and are asking a question. More times than not I suppose it doesn't often work out, infact that can muddy things up more. But to go beyond the initial verbal language barrier, to a deeper meaning and one that probably surpasses two butting languages all together, the body language can do oh so much more.
I was watching a movie tonight. I actually quite literally just finished it. I noticed, this girl.. erm Tom Cruise's currant wife, unneccesary as that might be, it's who it was. Was trying to tell this writer that while his book was good it was a bit heavy on explanations, he went in to the history of the horses the family owned with no real reasoning other than he thought it all up before hand. While she's trying to tell him this she conveys with her hand(she was sitting on a bed) how truely hard it was and how she really didn't want to tell him about it all with her hand, motioning from her stomach up and toward him. As if she was fighting throwing up something she just ate in front of a bunch of people out of shame and embarrassment. While that may not be exactly what she felt it could appear to be truly from her body language. Or the way a girl can shift her weight from one side of her body to the other making her little hip pop out a bit combined with a bite of a lip and an eye roll to express that she's embarrassed but also highly flattered at something you just did or said. Guys tend to shrink back a bit and look down with a grin that he probably didn't want you to see to convey the exact same thing. Some people like myself will start sipping a beverage, whether alcoholic or not to express his anxiety in a social situation. Also, everyone says there's a look in the eye, A LOOK PURELY IN AN EYE(apparently eyes convey emotion more than purely watering out of saddness) before he's going to hit you or doing something violent.
There are truly so many things you can do purely with your body rather than even saying anything and more times than not if you pay enough attention you can tell what someone really means with their words by watching the body. Even as much as you probably don't want to, there are, for sure situations you yourself have been in where you didn't want to say or couldn't where your pure body language said it all. I know I try to keep it in check, so that no one can ever really tell... For me I supposed it's a defense, if I wake up the next day knowing I fucked up I can atleast try to say I meant it differently rather than what I might have meant, but if my body had shown it, everyone knows I'm full of shit. But there are many many times when don't get me wrong, people have misjudged me and what I said or did. Hell, even animals do it. It's purely nuts, I tell ya! These kinds of things astound me at times and as much as I want to know exactly why people do it I think it's better off a mystery, it's almost more real that way.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Oh miss fall...
The light in this house... It looks like fall. the light is different. Light changes with the seasons as far as I can tell and it's not just the clouds mind you. It's not. With the music playing, I am expecting to walk outside and it be 60 or 70. But I know in my heart that its 90 or 100. I bought this album with my girlie in the city last winter. I'm so nostalgic right now I could cry.
Fall, when you will come grace me with your presence again? Fall where are you? I know it's only august, but I miss you miss fall, oh where oh where are you? Would you please come visit me sooner than october? Could you come by in september? Please? Oh how I love you miss fall.
Fall, when you will come grace me with your presence again? Fall where are you? I know it's only august, but I miss you miss fall, oh where oh where are you? Would you please come visit me sooner than october? Could you come by in september? Please? Oh how I love you miss fall.
The Longhorn.
So, about two weeks ago I shaved my face again. For the last 2 years, I've had a mustache; I also have some hair on my chin, kind of like a goatee, but it doesn't connect. I've recently been shaving my chin every few months trying to thicken it up, but left the 'stache. I was rocking Portugal. The Man style, heh. I know that when I shave I look 13 again. I have a "pretty face" as people have told me and while it's not very feminine it is rather slender and childlike, I guess you could say.
So the day after I shave I have to work. Apart from my boss saying "Well don't you look all clean shaving and such" and my co-worker eyeing me confused-like because she can't tell I've shaved(she later did and flipped, telling me how her dad would shave and when she noticed and said something he'd laugh and say he did it last week). No one noticed, or atleast didn't say anything. I go fairly unnoticed at work, which is probably wrong people just don't want to bug the chef while he's putting away glasswares -- or they are intemidated because of my dreads.
So thursday my first day of work for the week, I usually go to a bar afterwards with my dad, we like the salloon. It's one of those bars where generally only the people you want to talk to come and talk to you and you're pretty much left alone. Not quiet by far but quiet enough. So this thursday I didn't see my dad, he didn't come in. So around 8:00 I ask my mom where he's at and he's at another bar, a somewhat rowdy bar from what I hear, I was only in it once when I was a young kid and don't remember it much. He was there for about 4 or 5 hours. So as I'm cleaning up the kitchen so I can leave I go to call my dad, when he's already calling me. He said some guys from work want him to go to the longhorn and that I can come by after work. So I leave and proceed to go fill up some water jugs so we have water for a few days and I get a call from my dad that goes something like this:
"Hey son, they want a $5 cover charge and they have a problem with credit cards so I can't run a tab. Fuck this place let's go to the salloon!"
I agree, as I wasn't really looking forward to going to the longhorn. You see the longhorn is one of those rowdy texan bars. The ones where you stand around and you don't wonder IF there will be a fight tonight, but WHEN.
So I call him and tell him I'm done and ask him if he's still there or if he went to the longhorn. "SOMEHOW I got in man, so come on down and I'll get you in."
So I drive down there, it's actually on my way home which isn't too bad, other than the cops know about it and like to camp to catch the shitfaces. I get there, let him know, spot him at the door and walk up, he drags me inside and the madness starts. For one the only bars I've ever been that were this packed weren't bars at all, but venues for shows I was going to see that had a bar in it. This place was PACKED. Not only that but I'm in my work attire which goes something like this; Nice jeans or dickies work pants, a nice shirt that's usually button up and probably a dickies plaid shirt. I look kind of like a geek because I keep a notepad and pin in my shirt pocket, which believe me, is always needed at work. I also have dreads. So I walk in to a bar full of rowdy cowboys eyeing me, I have all that on and my dreads are down, I admit I probably look pretty rediculous. Especially on the nights I go skating after work with my friend James(imagine this, a dready kid dressed like a computer programmer or something, on a board with dreads flailing around). Already uneasy not just because I'm not big on crowds but I have all those damn cowboys -- and worse people who pretend they're cowboys when they're in town on summer vacation. Mexicans, whites, rednecks, they're there in their cowboy gear and they are looking for a rowdy good time.
So we find my dads friend, I don't catch his name cause the music is way too loud, but we meet. about 45 seconds dad realizes I don't have a beer. Quick little backstory here, There was this bar right down the street from my bar that got popped for selling to minors, so they didn't even want me in there with my dad(which is legal here). So I'm a tad worried this will be the case here and we could even get thrown out. But I swallow that thought and follow dad. There's about a 15 person line, not even a line really a group of people pushed up against the bar desperately trying to get their 8 or 9th beer, because 6 or 7 truly is not enough. I say this and I sound a little discontent with the notion, but let me tell you I do the same thing, only not quite so desperately, I have a pretty feel good vibe about everything when at a bar unless someone fucks with me. So we decide to hit the outside bar. Just about completely dead. thank god. So the girl at the bar is a bit apprehensive to say the least, so she goes to talk to some guy. Kyle? Buck? I forget but I'm pretty sure it's clint black's brother, because he owns the bar. He gives the ok me and dad show our IDs... Oh also I forgot to mention I'm not 21 yet, but I can drink with a parent with me. So she comes back and says she's from California and you can't do that here. I get my beer. My dad's friend Seth comes up to get a beer, refuses to pay and says I'll do it. Dad says he should buy our beer, they go back and forth so I finally look at seth and tell him "Alright seth, I'll buy your beer, but you have to leave a $5 tip!" (his beer was $2.50) so he finally pays up for his beer. I take a few sips nervously follow dad around and dad finally demands seth buy him a beer. Seth finally agrees. Seth apparently comes here quite a bit, he knows just about everyone(Except for the out of towners) and says he can get us a beer inside and we won't have to wait in line, he's smoothe like that in "his bar" so we follow him inside, he apparently DOES have to wait in line and he gets us a beer after a bit. I thought he was buying my dad a beer, but he bought me one too, hands it to me while I still have a pretty much full beer and says I'll buy next round. thats only fair right? so I agree. Dad says we should go outside where its not so loud, I agree. I was tired of having the cowboy stares seer in to me with ever passing second. So I see a path in the crowed and pass through suprisingly easy, make it outside and immediately notice a cop car parked in the lot to my right with it's lights on, so I quickly turn around to get close to dad incase they come over, but dad wasn't there. This whole time I'm standing there I have two beers, one in each hand. Even though this was my first and second beer I was holding, it didn't look good. I looked like I was ready to get drunk. and would they really believe I was buying someone a beer? at that my ID says I'm 20 and on top of that I've shaved, I don't even have a 5 o clock shadow and I look 14.
[Here's where it gets good]
So I wait around for a minute or two, swore I heard a car door so I decide to venture back in. It probably looked like I was looking for someone to dance with or a girl to hit on the way I was violently scanning the room, but I was just looking for my dad. I glance to where his co worker was, I glance to the pool table, I glance to the bar, no where. 'Till finally I think I hear his voice, I look over he's on a little secluded platform about a 4 feet off the ground at a table that I didn't know was there. I go up, He ran in to a girl my mom and him had met, so I introduce myself and sit down. We talk for a few minutes and her husband comes up. Apparently she had been telling him about my parents. She turns to him and says "Look! Dreadlocks" while loosely playing with them, he glances and says something like "Right on". I take a few nervous sips of my beer, desperately trying for the area of drunk where awkward silences aren't awkward and you don't mind holding a conversation with a completely stranger. He turns to me and asks me, quite literally "So are you his wife?" I turn back to him so he could see my face and state "No, I'm not" Am I his wife? I knew I shouldn't have fuckin shaved god damn it. Wait does my father really look like someone who would be married to a girl with dreads? Uhg I can't imagine my mom with dreads, My dad maybe, my sister's, of course, but my mom? no. -sip- So after that pause and though, I turn back to him, lean in and say "I'm his son." A little more stern and with a touch of highly annoyed, than I was going for. So he pauses and then says "Oh shit man, I'm so sorry dude, I didn't even notice, she was just telling me about your mom a few days ago and I assumed your dad was here with your mom" he nervously laughs and appologizes again and then asks me if I need a beer I always need a free beer, who doesn't? "Yeah man, I could use a beer" So he goes to get one and I lean over to my dad to tell him "Damn dad, I haven't been called a girl in like 9, 10 years! that was nuts!" to which he responds "You weren't called a girl, a woman even, you were called my wife." My dad seemed a touch annoyed also.
After that, We got our beers, he refused to let us buy him one and got beers the entire night. I wandered out back where it was even more quiet than out front, which was nice. We were talking about various shit, he basically just wanted my dad to get him a Job with the electric co-op, but the conversations weren't completely bad. His wife finished dancing and came out to join us and we all started talking again.
Then comes this "Cowboy" He was shirtless if I recall, he didn't have a cowboy hat, I don't recall seeing a red neck, but you could tell he was a cowboy, or wanted to be one. He damn sure was a ruffian of sorts. The husband, who I can't remember the name. Jim? Jeff? Jason? something with J I believe, it was on his shirt, but I can't picture it. It seemed like he knew him so I was kind of relieved. He brought out 5 beers set them all down, said he bought us a round and asked for a cigarette, quite desperately I might add. I guess he already knew the vending machine with the cigs was broken. My dad gives him one and he proceeds to have the oddest conversation of the night with us.
Cowboy: So you guys know any fine looking single women in there?
Me: Nah but I'm sure you can find some in there if you look, I've sent a few rowdy girls here that were out of towners looking to dance and have a good time
Dad: Yeah I bet you could
Cowboy: Yeah, but my wife's in there So I can't go prowl around you guys.
Me: Ooooo
Dad: God damn son, haven't you ever heard the saying don't shit in your own back yard?
Cowboy: Yeah, Mah grandpa told me that, but my grandpa told me alot of things. My grandpa always told me fat gals have tight pussy's
I always heard fat chicks give great head and can swallow a dick like no ones business...
Cowboy: My grandpa also told me you could stick alot of meat in the grand canyon and that would be damn tight too!
A few nervous worried freaked out laughs occurred then he went back inside.
A bit after the place was closing, thankfully we were one of the last to get asked to leave since we were hiding in the back, I chugged my beer was forced to leave another dos equise to get dumped and we left.
So the day after I shave I have to work. Apart from my boss saying "Well don't you look all clean shaving and such" and my co-worker eyeing me confused-like because she can't tell I've shaved(she later did and flipped, telling me how her dad would shave and when she noticed and said something he'd laugh and say he did it last week). No one noticed, or atleast didn't say anything. I go fairly unnoticed at work, which is probably wrong people just don't want to bug the chef while he's putting away glasswares -- or they are intemidated because of my dreads.
So thursday my first day of work for the week, I usually go to a bar afterwards with my dad, we like the salloon. It's one of those bars where generally only the people you want to talk to come and talk to you and you're pretty much left alone. Not quiet by far but quiet enough. So this thursday I didn't see my dad, he didn't come in. So around 8:00 I ask my mom where he's at and he's at another bar, a somewhat rowdy bar from what I hear, I was only in it once when I was a young kid and don't remember it much. He was there for about 4 or 5 hours. So as I'm cleaning up the kitchen so I can leave I go to call my dad, when he's already calling me. He said some guys from work want him to go to the longhorn and that I can come by after work. So I leave and proceed to go fill up some water jugs so we have water for a few days and I get a call from my dad that goes something like this:
"Hey son, they want a $5 cover charge and they have a problem with credit cards so I can't run a tab. Fuck this place let's go to the salloon!"
I agree, as I wasn't really looking forward to going to the longhorn. You see the longhorn is one of those rowdy texan bars. The ones where you stand around and you don't wonder IF there will be a fight tonight, but WHEN.
So I call him and tell him I'm done and ask him if he's still there or if he went to the longhorn. "SOMEHOW I got in man, so come on down and I'll get you in."
So I drive down there, it's actually on my way home which isn't too bad, other than the cops know about it and like to camp to catch the shitfaces. I get there, let him know, spot him at the door and walk up, he drags me inside and the madness starts. For one the only bars I've ever been that were this packed weren't bars at all, but venues for shows I was going to see that had a bar in it. This place was PACKED. Not only that but I'm in my work attire which goes something like this; Nice jeans or dickies work pants, a nice shirt that's usually button up and probably a dickies plaid shirt. I look kind of like a geek because I keep a notepad and pin in my shirt pocket, which believe me, is always needed at work. I also have dreads. So I walk in to a bar full of rowdy cowboys eyeing me, I have all that on and my dreads are down, I admit I probably look pretty rediculous. Especially on the nights I go skating after work with my friend James(imagine this, a dready kid dressed like a computer programmer or something, on a board with dreads flailing around). Already uneasy not just because I'm not big on crowds but I have all those damn cowboys -- and worse people who pretend they're cowboys when they're in town on summer vacation. Mexicans, whites, rednecks, they're there in their cowboy gear and they are looking for a rowdy good time.
So we find my dads friend, I don't catch his name cause the music is way too loud, but we meet. about 45 seconds dad realizes I don't have a beer. Quick little backstory here, There was this bar right down the street from my bar that got popped for selling to minors, so they didn't even want me in there with my dad(which is legal here). So I'm a tad worried this will be the case here and we could even get thrown out. But I swallow that thought and follow dad. There's about a 15 person line, not even a line really a group of people pushed up against the bar desperately trying to get their 8 or 9th beer, because 6 or 7 truly is not enough. I say this and I sound a little discontent with the notion, but let me tell you I do the same thing, only not quite so desperately, I have a pretty feel good vibe about everything when at a bar unless someone fucks with me. So we decide to hit the outside bar. Just about completely dead. thank god. So the girl at the bar is a bit apprehensive to say the least, so she goes to talk to some guy. Kyle? Buck? I forget but I'm pretty sure it's clint black's brother, because he owns the bar. He gives the ok me and dad show our IDs... Oh also I forgot to mention I'm not 21 yet, but I can drink with a parent with me. So she comes back and says she's from California and you can't do that here. I get my beer. My dad's friend Seth comes up to get a beer, refuses to pay and says I'll do it. Dad says he should buy our beer, they go back and forth so I finally look at seth and tell him "Alright seth, I'll buy your beer, but you have to leave a $5 tip!" (his beer was $2.50) so he finally pays up for his beer. I take a few sips nervously follow dad around and dad finally demands seth buy him a beer. Seth finally agrees. Seth apparently comes here quite a bit, he knows just about everyone(Except for the out of towners) and says he can get us a beer inside and we won't have to wait in line, he's smoothe like that in "his bar" so we follow him inside, he apparently DOES have to wait in line and he gets us a beer after a bit. I thought he was buying my dad a beer, but he bought me one too, hands it to me while I still have a pretty much full beer and says I'll buy next round. thats only fair right? so I agree. Dad says we should go outside where its not so loud, I agree. I was tired of having the cowboy stares seer in to me with ever passing second. So I see a path in the crowed and pass through suprisingly easy, make it outside and immediately notice a cop car parked in the lot to my right with it's lights on, so I quickly turn around to get close to dad incase they come over, but dad wasn't there. This whole time I'm standing there I have two beers, one in each hand. Even though this was my first and second beer I was holding, it didn't look good. I looked like I was ready to get drunk. and would they really believe I was buying someone a beer? at that my ID says I'm 20 and on top of that I've shaved, I don't even have a 5 o clock shadow and I look 14.
[Here's where it gets good]
So I wait around for a minute or two, swore I heard a car door so I decide to venture back in. It probably looked like I was looking for someone to dance with or a girl to hit on the way I was violently scanning the room, but I was just looking for my dad. I glance to where his co worker was, I glance to the pool table, I glance to the bar, no where. 'Till finally I think I hear his voice, I look over he's on a little secluded platform about a 4 feet off the ground at a table that I didn't know was there. I go up, He ran in to a girl my mom and him had met, so I introduce myself and sit down. We talk for a few minutes and her husband comes up. Apparently she had been telling him about my parents. She turns to him and says "Look! Dreadlocks" while loosely playing with them, he glances and says something like "Right on". I take a few nervous sips of my beer, desperately trying for the area of drunk where awkward silences aren't awkward and you don't mind holding a conversation with a completely stranger. He turns to me and asks me, quite literally "So are you his wife?" I turn back to him so he could see my face and state "No, I'm not" Am I his wife? I knew I shouldn't have fuckin shaved god damn it. Wait does my father really look like someone who would be married to a girl with dreads? Uhg I can't imagine my mom with dreads, My dad maybe, my sister's, of course, but my mom? no. -sip- So after that pause and though, I turn back to him, lean in and say "I'm his son." A little more stern and with a touch of highly annoyed, than I was going for. So he pauses and then says "Oh shit man, I'm so sorry dude, I didn't even notice, she was just telling me about your mom a few days ago and I assumed your dad was here with your mom" he nervously laughs and appologizes again and then asks me if I need a beer I always need a free beer, who doesn't? "Yeah man, I could use a beer" So he goes to get one and I lean over to my dad to tell him "Damn dad, I haven't been called a girl in like 9, 10 years! that was nuts!" to which he responds "You weren't called a girl, a woman even, you were called my wife." My dad seemed a touch annoyed also.
After that, We got our beers, he refused to let us buy him one and got beers the entire night. I wandered out back where it was even more quiet than out front, which was nice. We were talking about various shit, he basically just wanted my dad to get him a Job with the electric co-op, but the conversations weren't completely bad. His wife finished dancing and came out to join us and we all started talking again.
Then comes this "Cowboy" He was shirtless if I recall, he didn't have a cowboy hat, I don't recall seeing a red neck, but you could tell he was a cowboy, or wanted to be one. He damn sure was a ruffian of sorts. The husband, who I can't remember the name. Jim? Jeff? Jason? something with J I believe, it was on his shirt, but I can't picture it. It seemed like he knew him so I was kind of relieved. He brought out 5 beers set them all down, said he bought us a round and asked for a cigarette, quite desperately I might add. I guess he already knew the vending machine with the cigs was broken. My dad gives him one and he proceeds to have the oddest conversation of the night with us.
Cowboy: So you guys know any fine looking single women in there?
Me: Nah but I'm sure you can find some in there if you look, I've sent a few rowdy girls here that were out of towners looking to dance and have a good time
Dad: Yeah I bet you could
Cowboy: Yeah, but my wife's in there So I can't go prowl around you guys.
Me: Ooooo
Dad: God damn son, haven't you ever heard the saying don't shit in your own back yard?
Cowboy: Yeah, Mah grandpa told me that, but my grandpa told me alot of things. My grandpa always told me fat gals have tight pussy's
I always heard fat chicks give great head and can swallow a dick like no ones business...
Cowboy: My grandpa also told me you could stick alot of meat in the grand canyon and that would be damn tight too!
A few nervous worried freaked out laughs occurred then he went back inside.
A bit after the place was closing, thankfully we were one of the last to get asked to leave since we were hiding in the back, I chugged my beer was forced to leave another dos equise to get dumped and we left.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Devil Wine
While I love how wine can get you quite sloshed, I tend to like liquor more on night's like these. You can catch a good buzz off of say, whiskey, or rum, or tequila and feel the good vibes wash over you. With wine I always tend to get rather sleepy. No matter how fast I drink it, or maybe that's the problem. Gin, is another beast. While I love a dirty martini, gin is quite hard for me to choke down at the moment.
Give me my whiskey and beer. Or fuck let's have some patron.
Give me my whiskey and beer. Or fuck let's have some patron.
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