perpetual memory loss

It has been almost 7 years since I’ve been in California and boy does it feel nice to be back. The weather is beautiful and compared with DC there is no humidity.

My day went pretty much as expected–both good and bad. Woke up balls ass early, crammed myself onto a flying sardine tin with a bunch of other assholes, and stood in lots of long lines throughout this epically long day. For the most part things went smoothly but of course there were some balls that were dropped–not by me of course–but I’ll let it slide today. Tomorrow is crunch time and hopefully everyone is on their A game because I’m looking for a day full of no drama.

Got to visit the Nixon Library today which was pretty cool. It was bigger and nicer than I imagined. While walking around I stumbled into the new exhibit that has Futurama storyboards and animations cells from episodes that feature Nixon’s head. So that was a bonus. Lastly, I got to meet some old school Nixonians and they pretty much talked shit to me from the get go (although they tried to be subtle about it). They didn’t wait to find out who I was or anything about me. I’m a gov worker so I’m shit and the enemy.

So now that my day is winding down I’m feeling nostalgic so I went and bought myself some 40′s. When I was a young pup I used to partake of the Old E or Mickey’s but now that I’m older and wiser I prefer the ol’ Colorado Kool-Aid. To finish this day off all I need is some tacos or In ‘N’ Out Burgers oooorrrrr both.

Season tickets are arriving Thursday night. There will be drunken celebration.

Around about a year ago, I was getting ready to go to my company’s holiday party.  I was assured that there would be a plethora of booze there and I was not disappointed.  As is my usual standard operating procedure I started to drink–a lot.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed that later that night I was going to be seduced by a younger woman.

However, life is full of surprises and I was surprised when a young, Irish lass escorted  me back to my house to engage in bit of race defilement.  It all started because we were liquored up and she is an eternal optimist who is ready for any sexy situation (wink, wink).  Anyways here we are a year later, but more importantly a good year later (except for your profligate use of utensils, glasses, paper towels, and your refusal to refill the Brita after filling one of your many cups of water).  So this video best encapsulates the beginnings of our relationship.  Here’s to yet another year of me robbing the cradle.

For years I have been the recipient of cruel, cruel jokes about the state of my liver.  This is, of course, because of my proclivity to drink mass quantities of alcohol and my reluctance to visit a doctor to hear the dire news.  Recently, I was arm-twisted into going to a doctor and getting a full check-up.  After waiting a week for the results I am happy to report that my liver regenerates like Wolverine.  11 years of boozing and it’s still going strong.  I look forward to many more nights of drinking, so someone buy me a beer and a shot of Jameson.

I woke up this morning seriously pissed off.  I didn’t really know why, but I figured after a nice cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal I would be good.  Unfortunately, I was out of milk so no cereal, and I drank way too much coffee on an empty stomach so I was feeling queasy by the time I got to school for work.  Things spiraled down from there as I had a new project waiting for me at work which pisses me off because I seem to be the only research assistant that actually does research.  The rest just sit around doing their homework.  So I stayed grumpy and became even more irritable as the day wore on.

Ugly Baby Exhibit A

By the time I got home around 5pm I was bristling with anger, and I told neverbesocial that if there was a baby in front of me I would punch it in the throat.  (I have to clarify that statement, however, as most babies would probably melt my heart–like the sap I am–but I would have seriously thought about punching an ugly baby in the throat.)  Be that as it may I kept getting more angry because I couldn’t figure out why I was so angry all day long.  Then I took a look at my calendar and saw what day it was.  Today is March 19th and it is–along with the 20th–the anniversary of the invasion of Iraq.  I quickly realized that that was why I was pissed all day, even though I didn’t realize the significance of the day until after about 9 hours of being a real grinch.  I guess my body is just on its own program.

Like I said everything started to make sense after that, but I ended up getting more pissed off because I was thinking about how I hate these wars and how I can’t wait for them to be over and for the troops to come home.  I also was pissed at myself for being such a whiny complaining bitch because someone had the audacity to ask me to do my job, whilst there are other people over in Iraq and Afghanistan separated from their families performing a thankless arduous job.  I decided that it was time to hit the gym and go for a run to burn off all of my anger.  I went to the gym and really killed myself.  Running whilst angry is great; anger is one of the best motivators out there.  After a good two hours at the gym I was feeling really good and as I was walking home and just as I was getting ready to cross the street I noticed that there was like 3 cars at each stop sign waiting for me.  I figured I’d be a nice guy and jog across the street so that these people could get on their way quicker.  Bad idea.  This is the first time something like this has ever happened to me.  I took two steps and both legs cramped up and locked themselves in a bent position.  I came crashing down in the middle of the street in absolute anguish.  I managed to get up and hop to the sidewalk where I laid on the ground writhing for the next 5 minutes as cars drove by staring at me like I was a circus freak.  To make matters worse some people on the other side of the street were walking by and had seen the whole thing and were laughing their asses off.  Salt in the wound.

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Last night I finally got to see Jimmy Eat World live in concert.  After all these years of being a fan of them, and constantly missing out on their shows, I finally made one.  First off I will always be grateful to neverbesocial for introducing me to Jimmy Eat World back in those halcyon Phoenix days.  (Actually I have to thank him for introducing me to quite a few of my favorite bands.  He has been a sort of musical Gandalf guiding me through the perilous path of new music.  Although I still can’t stand Mates of State or Portugal the Man, but hey whatever I can’t be expected to like everything he does.)  Anyways I got to the show earlier than I did for The Black Keys a few weeks ago, but despite that, there was still a huge line–over a block long–by the time I got there.  The people at Terminal 5, however, kept the line moving quickly and I was able to get inside before I froze completely to death.

Once inside I went back up to my spot on the third floor railing, grabbed an empanada, a couple beers, and got ready for the show.  I can’t tell you how excited I was for this show.  I have been looking forward to seeing JEW for a long time now and the fact that my first concert was going to be the Clarity tour only added to my exhilaration–as Clarity is one of my all-time favorite albums.  So I suffered through the opening act–they actually were not that bad, but I just didn’t feel like waiting any longer to see JEW.  A little bit after 9:00 JEW came out to the rousing cheers of the crowd and commenced to playing Clarity in it’s entirety–including Goodbye Sky Harbor.  It was a fantastic show and they sounded great, and considering this was their first show on the tour, I expect that as the tour rolls on they will tighten up their sound even more.  After they finished playing Clarity they left so they could take part in the obligatory encore–bands really need to stop doing that as it’s pretty contrived–and then they came back out and played some of their b-sides and then finished off the show with Work, Pain, The Middle, and Sweetness.  The crowd went absolutely ape-shit for Sweetness and it really is the best song to finish the show to as everyone left completely pumped after that song.  Well there is not really much more for me to say that the pics and videos can’t say on their own.  So enjoy the pics and videos.  (By the way Jimmy Eat World if you all are upset about me posting these pics and videos online just twitter me to take it down.  No need to release the hounds.)

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Yesterday turned out to be quite the adventure.  It was supposed to be just an easy night out on the town watching The Black Keys.  I left my apartment and after a long train ride and a long walk I made it to Terminal 5 at about 7:30.  As I stood in line waiting to get frisked I pulled out all the crap in my pockets so the process would go quicker.  Of course I get frisked by a beast of a women (how come it’s socially ok for a female to frisk a male but not vice-versa?) who decided to take some liberties with her frisking by grabbing my ass a few times. Wtf is up with shit like this happening to me (if you are new refer to this post here)?

Immediately after that weirdness I went to the bar and started crushing beers like my life depended on it.  I milled around for a bit and then decided that since I had my camera on me I would stake out a good spot upstairs to watch the show.  I ended up on the third floor railing with a good view of the stage, and bonus I was spitting distance from the bar.  My plan was to get nice and loaded during the opening bands and then to slow down or quit drinking once the Keys came on stage.  As usually plans went awry and I kept pounding all night long.  (I really think it was the last four Sierra Nevadas that did me in.)  This was the third time I have seen them live and as always the show was epic.  (No show will ever be as good as the first time I saw them in Cali at Brick by Brick just because of the extraordinary lengths I went through to go to that show, and because of the amount of laws–military and civilian–that I broke just by going to it.)  Since I took a bunch of pictures and videos of the show I will let them speak for the epicness of the show instead of babbling on and on.

After the show I hooked myself up with a new t-shirt and I got it for $10 instead of the usual $20.  I think that was because I was incredibly drunk and the dude who was running the counter just wanted to get rid of me.  Once I left Terminal 5 it took me forever to get home as I was chatting on the phone and ended up walking a few miles past my subway stop, then I fell asleep on the E-train (again), and it wasn’t until after 4 that I ended up stumbling home.  All in all it was a good night with all the mandatory ingredients for a good night: live music, beer, stumbling around NYC, and falling asleep on the train.  Anytime that happens it is definitely good night.  Pictures and videos (sorry they are a bit wobbly, I blame the beer) after the fold, enjoy.

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I know I’ve been MIA lately but there is a good reason which I am going to explain.  I have been drinking a shit-ton of alcohol lately while I have been working through some notions that have been rolling through my dome-piece.  You see I have been feeling the itch lately (no not the VD itch) but the life itch.  Every once in awhile I start getting restless and where I feel like I am in need of a drastic change in life.  The last time I had this feeling I decided to join the Marine Corps and spent the next four years moving around the country and the world.  Additionally, over the past ten years I have lived in four different states and over ten different apartments.  I am just really restless and I am not sure why.

So why am I boring you with this?  I don’t actually know, but I do know that I haven’t been able to work the problem out via alcohol so I figured what the shit I’ll blog about it.  After writing up this blog though I decided to scrap it and not publish it as I felt it was maybe a bit too personal, and then I came back to it and decided to write it differently and to hell with it being to personal.  It doesn’t really matter anyways since most of you all don’t know me, and I figure maybe if I write it out this way–as a dialogue between the warring factions of my grape a la Fight Club–then maybe the issue will work itself out.  So here it goes this is basically the conversation that has been taking place, on a regular basis, in my alcohol fueled head over the last few months–and increasingly so lately:

“Self.”

“Yes, what do you want?”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Oh don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ crap.  Why you being such a sour Sally lately?”

“Why you being such an asshole?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Well, self, I dunno what’s wrong.  I just feel like I have to get out of here, you know, move on to greener pastures.”

“What’s wrong with where you’re at? school’s going good, you have a dope new TV, a good apartment, enough money.  From where I’m sitting (same place where you’re sitting btw) things look pretty damn sweet.”

“In a sense that is true, but I also feel the need to move on and do something with my life.  I’m starting to feel a little too comfortable here, and a big drastic change could be just what I need.”

“It could also be just what you don’t need; ever think of that?  Look you’ve been moving around quite a bit lately and it seems to me that every time you start to put down some roots somewhere you just decide to get up and leave starting the whole damn process over again.  Maybe what you really need is no change; just try to enjoy life.”

“I do enjoy life but I’m starting to feel that ol’ adventurous streak flare up again.  My life has become pretty normal and boring.  I thought I was done adventuring and maybe I am, but then again, maybe I’m not.”

“You know you’re fucking retarded right?”

“No need to get snippy.”

“Well you are.  What more do you need to do?  I mean look in just a bit over four years time you have gotten and BA and a Masters.  What else you need?  Is that not enough of an accomplishment for you?”

“No it’s not.  I need more.  I don’t feel like this is accomplishing anything.  Do you know how many people get degrees?  The unemployment lines are full of assholes who have degrees.  They don’t really mean that much.  I want to put my stamp on the world.”

“Jesus delusions of grandeur.  Here we go again, and I thought you were done with all that bs.  But no, you just can’t leave well enough alone can you?  Instead you get all these ideas floating around in your head and then you go and throw a monkey in the wrench.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.  How does one throw a monkey in a wrench?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Well you know what I’m thinking because, well, you’re me.”

“Still want to hear your dumb ass say it aloud.”

“Ok, look dick wad I just think about stuff a lot.  I think about where I’m going in this life and where I’ve been and I want to try and figure out which is the best avenue that I should pursue in the next section of my life.”

“I can’t believe that you are actually thinking that thought.”

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Some things are just meant to be together, like peanut butter & jelly or peanut butter & chocolate (damn why is peanut butter so darn good).  I have always been a big fan of drinking profusely and I have always been a big fan of history, and even though at times I have mixed the two, I have never actually thought of recording said conversations.  So a big thank you to Sara for texting me to inform me of these skits, which combine two of my favorite things, and also fits in perfectly with the theme of  this blog.  This is just one more great combo in life that was meant to be.  Maybe one of these days I’ll get my own episode and I’ll give them a drunken lecture on some random historical event (seriously Pacificus/Helvidius debates are still fresh in my mind and I could wax about it drunk no problem).  Now enjoy Drunk History.

The other day I got a comment on this site from Emily who maintains her own blog at emlocke.com.  So I went to check out her site, and she had this post about her earliest memories, and it got me thinking about my earliest memories.  So here is the story of my earliest memory (I’m serious too, this is the absolute truth).  It’s amazing how well my first memory fits in with the overriding concept for this blog.

I was between 3-4 years old at the time and it was a night like any other night: my mom was keeping dinner warm on the stove whilst we waited for my dad to get home from work so that we could eat together as a family.  It was dark outside so it was fairly late, and my brother and I were running around the house wreaking havoc.  I’m sure my brother, five years my senior, was probably torturing me.  He loved messing with me as a kid, that is until I grew into my strength and shifted the balance of power between us.

Anyways my dad finally burst through the door, after a long day of work, and my brother and I ran over to say hello.  I grabbed onto my dad’s knee and he plopped a kiss on my head and tussled my hair on the way over to the fridge.  When he got to the fridge he pulled out a beer–either MGD or a German beer–and then pulled a mug out of the freezer.  He then executed the most perfect pour ever.  This pour is seriously burned into my brain.  He emptied out the complete bottle of beer and I watched with anticipation as it filled the mug.  The head on the beer rose and mushroomed slightly over the rim of the mug, without any spillage, and then stopped.  It was a legendary pour.  At that moment before he had a chance to take a triumphant swig the phone rang.

My dad placed the mug on the counter, and my eyes never left the mug, and walked over to answer the phone.  It was something work related, because he started to walk back into his room for some paperwork.  Mind you this was back in the day before cordless phones so we had one of those 100ft cables attached to the phone.  So as he was untangling the cord and working his way to the back of the house I began to implement my plan.  I walked into the bathroom and grabbed the stool that I used to brush my teeth and carried in into the kitchen.  I can still remember how I struggled to carry the stool down the hallway into the kitchen.  It was an indication of the herculean strength I would end up developing.  My brother quickly figured out what I was doing and started to tell me no, and my mom was finishing up setting the table and also checking out the news on TV, so she never noticed what I was doing.  I, meanwhile, placed the stool underneath the beer and began to climb up it.  By this time my brother was hysterically laughing and trying to tell me no at the same time.  It didn’t work as his laughing only encouraged me to continue.

As I reached the top of the stool I teetered, steadied myself, and then grabbed my prize (a bit reminiscent of Indy in the beginning of Raiders).  I was careful not to spill it and proceeded to slowly climb down my stool sans the use of my hands.  When I got to the bottom my brother was beside himself and was anxiously waiting to see how this would turn out.  I remember taking that humongous mug and bringing it up to my mouth and drinking the whole entire mug in one shot.  This, once again, presaged my later abilities to drink mass quantities of beer quickly. When I finished I stumbled over to the kitchen table and put the mug on the corner of the table.

My brother by this time was rolling on the ground laughing, and I ran into the living room and promptly fell down.  I got up and ran around in circles, but I think I was trying to run in a straight line.  After getting up and falling down a few more times I decided to stay on the ground.  My dad came back and started to inquire where the hell his beer was.  My brother was more than willing to turn state’s evidence and, in between laughing fits, he pointed to the empty mug on the kitchen table.  My dad quickly realized what happened–it wasn’t hard I mean I was rolling around on the ground making noises (much like I do now when I get drunk)–and shook his head in disbelief.  He poured himself a new beer, and then went over to the living room to help me up to the kitchen to eat dinner.  I don’t believe I was ever punished for this, I guess my dad figured that my hangover would be punishment enough, and to this day they still are.

Well there you have it, that is my earliest memory.  Stealing a beer from my dad at the tender age of 3.  Since that day I have embarked on a life long love affair with beer.  There have been many ups, and quite a few downs, but overall me and beer have made a good team.  We have created plenty of great memories, and along the way we have lost even more.  Thankfully my first memory of beer remains as intact today as it did when I was a kid.