There was a time, in the not so distant past, when being invited to a party usually promised shuttle rides up and down Laurel Canyon, swimming pools filled with drunken revelers, themed rooms, the promise of handsome new friends, and usually the glamour of waking up with smeared eyeliner on someone's red velvet couch the following afternoon.
My, how things have changed.
Let me just start by saying that I wanted a bit of a break from a party prone lifestyle. Just a small break. That's all. I mean, come on... I've spent 7 years in L.A., the mecca of all parties, and 3 years in London- which was probably an even bigger party. I have almost welcomed this stint of making crafts, waking up early for my nice, sensible job as an admin. assistant at Macy's, baking, and going out less often. It makes the occasional night out almost... dare I say, exciting?!
I did NOT sign up for last Saturday night though. Oh no, I did not.
Obviously, if my mother's friend Harriet who is 76 years old invites me to her and her husband's "GOLDEN 50TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY" party I could safely assume that this was not going to be a big blowout with kegs and strippers. Obviously not. I did, however, expect maybe a bottle of wine on the table, maybe I'd find someone who was a black sheep like me who I could have a conversation with. I don't think that's too much to hope for, do you?
Yeah, well. After finishing work on Saturday, I went straight to the liquor store to get a bottle of wine. You know, it's the polite thing to bring when attending a party. (Actually, I was terrified that there would be no alcohol at the party.) Then I went into the Virginia Cafe and downed 3 vodka sodas in quick succession. Feeling somewhat prepared, I hopped on the train to meet my mom and her best friend Bettie. (SUPPOSED best friend, as my mom loves talking trash about her ALL the time, but that is a whole other blog for another day) They were waiting for me at the station and I got in the car and we went to the party.
We were the first ones there. They golden couple hadn't even arrived yet. I sat awkwardly on the couch and half listened to a girl talk earnestly about being a volunteer for the Portland Singing Christmas Tree this year, and how she would be so honored and touched if we were to come see her sing next week, and that she doesn't know one person who doesn't get moved to tears when witnessing the concert. Tears of boredom, maybe. Finally lots of people began to arrive. Almost everyone was Filipino, which is what I was expecting, because all of my mom's friends are Filipino. However, I started noticing all the men who were there. Just about all of them were as American and white as you could get. And they ALL looked like the cat who got the cream... because they all had hot Filipino wives!!! Hahaha. Anyway, that was just an observation.
This one guy though- he was too much. I couldn't even look at him. He was about 50 years old and looked and sounded like your typical TV evangelist. I think he was a minister, actually. His Filipino wife was sitting in the corner reading a book. (Great idea.) I about choked on my bowl of rice when he started talking to my mom and her friends. He pointed at a woman standing nearby with high heels. "Look at them thangs... why, I think women wear them to strengthen their calve muscles so they can drive all the men crayzay!!" Oh, gross.
Then, the other half of the Golden Couple, Harriet, gathered everyone into the living room. She started handing out photocopied sheets of paper to selected people. She walked up to me and gave me one, smiling and nodding at me. I smiled back uncertainly and saw that the paper had a love poem on it. I said, "Oh, that's nice!" and showed my mom, who proceeded to put it in her purse. Harriet said, "No, no, give it back to Joy. I want her to stand up and read the poem to us." I looked at her in horror. There was no WAY I was going to stand up and read a poem. I gave her some apologetic excuse and handed it back to her. No mind, there were plenty of people there who were willing to read the EIGHT poems she was passing around. Also, we all got a song sheet that we had to sing along to. Guess who led the song? The creepy evangelist guy did, while playing the piano! I can't really find words to describe how he sounded, but let's just say it was pretty painful to sit through, as were the readings of the bizarre poems.
During all this, I happened to glance at the TV screen and low and behold, there was Tammy Faye Baker, walking around in her mascara and hugging children at a children's hospital. Didn't she pass away? Why was she on TV just then? It was all too much.
I had longing thoughts of my bottle of wine which was taking a nap in my handbag. There was absolutely NO alcohol at this party, which was appalling. I made the decision to sneak to the bathroom to down what I had. Unfortunately, when I took a second look at the bottle, it was not a twist cap. An overwhelming sense of defeat washed over me. I was stuck at this party, and I was going to be sober.
The turning point of the evening was when Harriet called everyone back into the living room after we ate the buffet and cake. She instructed everyone to gather around the television set and introduced us to her friend, who was wearing a suit and told us he was going to show us a video. Oh great, now we were going to watch wedding videos or a photo slideshow. I mean, that's what you would expect to watch at an anniversary party, right? Well, imagine my (and everyone else's, for that matter)confusion when an infomercial for "PREPAID LAWYERS" came on. I kid you not. It was a guy selling a prepaid lawyer service!!! And a service that was very obviously catered to people who would be classified at the bottom of the social ladder. I was confused for a good minute or two, but it didn't take long for it to dawn on me that I was witnessing a pyramid scheme selling presentation.... at a wedding anniversary party.
About 30 minutes into the video, I started nodding off but was woken by my mom loudly interrupting the presentation with: "Excuse me, we have to go home now. MY DAUGHTER has to get up at 5:00 am for work." Which was true, but I like how she used me as an excuse to leave. Haha. So, after I gave a vague wave goodbye in the general direction of the party goers, I was free. Bettie drove us home. As an almost icing on the cake of the evening, my mom got car sick on the way home and threw up in the driveway when we got out of the car. Of course.
*Names are changed to protect the innocent... I'm not that evil.
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Friday, 17 September 2010
Extreme culture shock, Taco Bell and really happy bus drivers.
Well, I made it back to the grand ole' U.S.A. without a hitch thanks to really, really friendly Irish airport people!
Leaving London was extremely difficult, especially after my amazing going away party and my soppy speech that Ben made me do while standing on the chair. (Thanks Ben!) I don't know what I was looking for or wanting when I moved there three years ago... but I know I've found it now, and it's not just one thing. I've met some of the most amazing people I've ever known, seen some gorgeous places and had some unforgettable experiences. Mission accomplished. And I feel like an even better version of myself, thanks to all those things. Of course I didn't want to go, but it needed to happen, for many reasons. However, knowing that it's only temporary and I'll most likely be back by June has made the transition much more bearable.
Even though I've only been away for a few years, there are quite a few things I'd forgotten. For example, the ridiculously friendly bus drivers in Oregon. I get on the bus, they say: "HELLO! WELCOME ABOARD!" I get off the bus, say thank you and they reply, "MY PLEASURE!" Also, when another bus passes a bus going in the opposite direction, the drivers always wave at each other! It's very sweet. And, everyone talks to each other on the bus. This is something I've never really liked to do, as I'm a stare-out-the-window person when I'm in a vehicle so I kind of liked the fact that everyone on the buses and trains in London kept to themselves for the most part. Today while I was on the train going home from Portland I heard a guy and a girl sitting behind me exchange numbers... unheard of in London!
I love the food in England, but I missed a few things you just can't get over there. Although I'm not a fast food person, the first place I made the taxi driver take me to when I left the airport was Taco Bell. I ordered about 4 different things off the menu because I was so excited. And then there's Trader Joe's. Boy, I missed that store. Even their stupid Hawaiian shirt uniforms.
And happy hour. Every day. Every bar. $2 cocktails! This has proven to be extremely dangerous, especially since I need to re-adjust my drink consumption because while in the U.K. (where the amount of alcohol poured into a drink is strictly measured), the bar staff here happily pour 70 percent vodka with maybe a drop of soda into my glass while my eyes boggle. Yeah, I really need to slow down with the cocktails. Paying $32 to see Scissor Sisters and not remembering much of it isn't very wise.
Get a load of the decor inside this sports bar I went to in Oregon City the other day:
Yes, it's really nice to be back here to see my mom and all my wonderful friends. I'm going to enjoy the next four months, although I'm going to actually have to have a real job for a little while. (Gasp and shudder.) And when February comes, I'll be more than ready to get into more delicious adventures, illegal activities (kidding... am I?) and world wanderings.
Anyway, I gotta go for now. I just found an article online that Lindsay Lohan has failed yet another drug test so I have to go read it. But check back, I'll be updating this blog more often.
Leaving London was extremely difficult, especially after my amazing going away party and my soppy speech that Ben made me do while standing on the chair. (Thanks Ben!) I don't know what I was looking for or wanting when I moved there three years ago... but I know I've found it now, and it's not just one thing. I've met some of the most amazing people I've ever known, seen some gorgeous places and had some unforgettable experiences. Mission accomplished. And I feel like an even better version of myself, thanks to all those things. Of course I didn't want to go, but it needed to happen, for many reasons. However, knowing that it's only temporary and I'll most likely be back by June has made the transition much more bearable.
Even though I've only been away for a few years, there are quite a few things I'd forgotten. For example, the ridiculously friendly bus drivers in Oregon. I get on the bus, they say: "HELLO! WELCOME ABOARD!" I get off the bus, say thank you and they reply, "MY PLEASURE!" Also, when another bus passes a bus going in the opposite direction, the drivers always wave at each other! It's very sweet. And, everyone talks to each other on the bus. This is something I've never really liked to do, as I'm a stare-out-the-window person when I'm in a vehicle so I kind of liked the fact that everyone on the buses and trains in London kept to themselves for the most part. Today while I was on the train going home from Portland I heard a guy and a girl sitting behind me exchange numbers... unheard of in London!
I love the food in England, but I missed a few things you just can't get over there. Although I'm not a fast food person, the first place I made the taxi driver take me to when I left the airport was Taco Bell. I ordered about 4 different things off the menu because I was so excited. And then there's Trader Joe's. Boy, I missed that store. Even their stupid Hawaiian shirt uniforms.
And happy hour. Every day. Every bar. $2 cocktails! This has proven to be extremely dangerous, especially since I need to re-adjust my drink consumption because while in the U.K. (where the amount of alcohol poured into a drink is strictly measured), the bar staff here happily pour 70 percent vodka with maybe a drop of soda into my glass while my eyes boggle. Yeah, I really need to slow down with the cocktails. Paying $32 to see Scissor Sisters and not remembering much of it isn't very wise.
Get a load of the decor inside this sports bar I went to in Oregon City the other day:
Yes, it's really nice to be back here to see my mom and all my wonderful friends. I'm going to enjoy the next four months, although I'm going to actually have to have a real job for a little while. (Gasp and shudder.) And when February comes, I'll be more than ready to get into more delicious adventures, illegal activities (kidding... am I?) and world wanderings.
Anyway, I gotta go for now. I just found an article online that Lindsay Lohan has failed yet another drug test so I have to go read it. But check back, I'll be updating this blog more often.
Thursday, 29 April 2010
Into the great wide open. (That's the plan, anyway.)
You know how you can just tell when life as you know it is about to drastically change? And you aren't quite sure how it will change but you know it's going to?
I've been enjoying the last three years of my very bohemian lifestyle immensely: Lazy days spent in various London parks with friends and lying in the grass while gazing at the sky, endless laughter and good times with good friends in the pubs, playing music all day at the record shop, creating art and trying to sell it all in the market... gigs. Random trips. Random people. Adventures. It's why I left everything behind in L.A.
But, as with most things in life, it can't last forever. Not exactly, anyway. I'm just not quite sure what's next. I do know that I've got to return to the states to take care of some things for a few months in autumn. Time to regroup, work hard, save some money for more adventures: SXSW in Austin, Las Vegas, oh and of course Disneyland. Then hopefully come back. But, anything could happen along the way.
Random questions drift in and out of my mind lately, such as:
Am I gonna have a panic attack when I stay in my old room while visiting my mother in Oregon? I'm always afraid that if I go back for a little while, I'll feel like the last 14 years of my life never happened.
Will it feel strange to go back to using quarters, nickels, dimes and dollar bills?
Am I going to want to turn around and run back when it's time to board the plane? Probably.
This city is an overwhelming shock to the system of colourful people, places, history, beauty and time seems to accelerate here. Finding time for myself is like trying to jump off of a fast-moving carousel. But I love almost every minute of it.
As much as I love my life here, there are parts that I find somewhat sad. (I may get into trouble for this one!) The same pubs with the same people, some who are constantly searching for something, desperately chasing a good time or just waiting for a fresh face to walk through the door to either save or ruin. Nameless faces on the tube with their eyes turned anywhere except to yours. Interchangeable, disposable and meaningless partners and lovers who seem to always stay in the same incestuous circles... and how lonely they seem to be. Ahh well, it's the same in any big city where there is too much, too fast.
I'm thinking that the future is bright, open, hazy and swirling with colour. I have pictures in my head of a life in the desert with the hot wind in my hair and I'm sitting on a non existent front porch of an imaginary house that could be mine someday. Or traveling, road trips, closing my eyes and picking a spot on a map and just going. And of course, I think of being here again.
Really, all I want is a life less ordinary. And make really great memories. Lots of them.
I've been enjoying the last three years of my very bohemian lifestyle immensely: Lazy days spent in various London parks with friends and lying in the grass while gazing at the sky, endless laughter and good times with good friends in the pubs, playing music all day at the record shop, creating art and trying to sell it all in the market... gigs. Random trips. Random people. Adventures. It's why I left everything behind in L.A.
But, as with most things in life, it can't last forever. Not exactly, anyway. I'm just not quite sure what's next. I do know that I've got to return to the states to take care of some things for a few months in autumn. Time to regroup, work hard, save some money for more adventures: SXSW in Austin, Las Vegas, oh and of course Disneyland. Then hopefully come back. But, anything could happen along the way.
Random questions drift in and out of my mind lately, such as:
Am I gonna have a panic attack when I stay in my old room while visiting my mother in Oregon? I'm always afraid that if I go back for a little while, I'll feel like the last 14 years of my life never happened.
Will it feel strange to go back to using quarters, nickels, dimes and dollar bills?
Am I going to want to turn around and run back when it's time to board the plane? Probably.
This city is an overwhelming shock to the system of colourful people, places, history, beauty and time seems to accelerate here. Finding time for myself is like trying to jump off of a fast-moving carousel. But I love almost every minute of it.
As much as I love my life here, there are parts that I find somewhat sad. (I may get into trouble for this one!) The same pubs with the same people, some who are constantly searching for something, desperately chasing a good time or just waiting for a fresh face to walk through the door to either save or ruin. Nameless faces on the tube with their eyes turned anywhere except to yours. Interchangeable, disposable and meaningless partners and lovers who seem to always stay in the same incestuous circles... and how lonely they seem to be. Ahh well, it's the same in any big city where there is too much, too fast.
I'm thinking that the future is bright, open, hazy and swirling with colour. I have pictures in my head of a life in the desert with the hot wind in my hair and I'm sitting on a non existent front porch of an imaginary house that could be mine someday. Or traveling, road trips, closing my eyes and picking a spot on a map and just going. And of course, I think of being here again.
Really, all I want is a life less ordinary. And make really great memories. Lots of them.
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Really, Reiner?
Recently I'd been hearing about a strange man from Germany who was in London for a week and was staying at the small flat above the record shop where I work. All I really heard was that the shop cat (Judge) didn't particularly like this man, which automatically made me mildly curious to meet him. Little did I know.
(I still can't figure out what's going on with the guy. Is he mildly autistic or just plain odd with fetish tendencies? Anyway, I digress...)
One day a couple weeks ago I was sitting downstairs at the record shop reading my book. That's when he came in. He introduced himself as "Reiner" and told me that he was the man staying in the flat upstairs. He also told me that it was his birthday. (If you can, try to imagine a very deep, thick German accent.)
"Happy birthday." I said.
"I AM NOT JOKING!" He bellowed.
"I didn't think you were."
"Do you want some champagne? I go get us some from upstairs."
"Well, yeah!" Who am I to turn down some free bubbly?
If you are wondering what he looks like, Reiner is a very tall, large man of about 45, I'm guessing. He also has a strange and slightly frightening air about him.
He returned with a bottle and two wine glasses. Having trouble opening the bottle, he produced a gleaming and extremely sharp looking switchblade knife which he used to try to open it.
"This knife is very dangerous." He stated the obvious.
"Yeah, maybe you should put it away." I don't really like sharp stuff.
After finally getting the bottle open, he poured me a glass and we toasted his birthday. Hooray. From there he started to tell me about his life, his many different business endeavors, some mild racism (which I'm not going to get into here but you can imagine) and that he came to London every couple months. It was almost time to close the shop, so we took our drinks upstairs. At this time, from listening to him speak for five minutes, I could sense that something was not entirely right about him but wasn't sure what it was.
Eric went outside to get the street sign, so it was just Reiner and I alone. He eyed me in a somewhat cocky manner.
"I know why you are still here." He said.
"You do? Why is that?" I looked down at my half-full drink, baffled.
He gave me a knowing look. "I think we BOTH know why you are still here."
"Yeah... to finish my wine!" I sputtered, the realization dawning on me as I recoiled from him.
He just leered at me and took a sip of his drink. I then took a very large sip of mine, finished it off and told him that it was nice meeting him but I had to get going. I shook his hand, turned around and was about to walk towards the door when SMACK! Reiner had given me a very, very hard spank on my bottom. I think I was in shock, for all I could do was emit a high pitched squeal which I'm sure he misread as pleasure, and ran out the door.
The following day, I was returning to the shop from my lunch break to find Reiner standing around socializing with the guys who work there. There was no escape... he had spotted me and there was nowhere to hide. I also noticed that my coworkers found Reiner's interest in me highly amusing. I went downstairs and started to eat my lunch, and of course who should follow me? He stood about 5 inches from me (no concept of respecting one's personal space) and eyed my food.
"Is that a special American/British food concoction you have there?"
What? "No, it's actually Mediterranean food." He is so strange.
"Ahh. I am going swimming now. With the best of London."
Really? Who are they? I wondered.
"I have some things for you. I am a nice man. I will show you."
Oh boy.
He then went upstairs to get it, came back down and presented me with a plastic bag of: 1 Diet Coke, 1 chocolate bar, 1 yogurt and 4 cookies. That was nice, actually. I began to forgive him for the spanking incident. But then he said,
"You can sleep with me in my bed tonight if you want."
"I'm sorry, what?" Unbelievable.
"You can sleep next to me tonight if you want."
"Oh, uh actually... no thanks. I'm gonna go home after work."
"I will leave you the key."
"No, really... don't do that." Jesus.
I mean, I know that I can come across as a bit too friendly sometimes but I really wasn't aware that I gave off a "Yes, I'm well up for it!! Go ahead- you can go there!!" kind of vibe. I mean, do I?
Anyway. He left for France the next day. I was off the hook... for now. Today I found out that he's coming back in a couple weeks. Judge and I are going to hide.
(I still can't figure out what's going on with the guy. Is he mildly autistic or just plain odd with fetish tendencies? Anyway, I digress...)
One day a couple weeks ago I was sitting downstairs at the record shop reading my book. That's when he came in. He introduced himself as "Reiner" and told me that he was the man staying in the flat upstairs. He also told me that it was his birthday. (If you can, try to imagine a very deep, thick German accent.)
"Happy birthday." I said.
"I AM NOT JOKING!" He bellowed.
"I didn't think you were."
"Do you want some champagne? I go get us some from upstairs."
"Well, yeah!" Who am I to turn down some free bubbly?
If you are wondering what he looks like, Reiner is a very tall, large man of about 45, I'm guessing. He also has a strange and slightly frightening air about him.
He returned with a bottle and two wine glasses. Having trouble opening the bottle, he produced a gleaming and extremely sharp looking switchblade knife which he used to try to open it.
"This knife is very dangerous." He stated the obvious.
"Yeah, maybe you should put it away." I don't really like sharp stuff.
After finally getting the bottle open, he poured me a glass and we toasted his birthday. Hooray. From there he started to tell me about his life, his many different business endeavors, some mild racism (which I'm not going to get into here but you can imagine) and that he came to London every couple months. It was almost time to close the shop, so we took our drinks upstairs. At this time, from listening to him speak for five minutes, I could sense that something was not entirely right about him but wasn't sure what it was.
Eric went outside to get the street sign, so it was just Reiner and I alone. He eyed me in a somewhat cocky manner.
"I know why you are still here." He said.
"You do? Why is that?" I looked down at my half-full drink, baffled.
He gave me a knowing look. "I think we BOTH know why you are still here."
"Yeah... to finish my wine!" I sputtered, the realization dawning on me as I recoiled from him.
He just leered at me and took a sip of his drink. I then took a very large sip of mine, finished it off and told him that it was nice meeting him but I had to get going. I shook his hand, turned around and was about to walk towards the door when SMACK! Reiner had given me a very, very hard spank on my bottom. I think I was in shock, for all I could do was emit a high pitched squeal which I'm sure he misread as pleasure, and ran out the door.
The following day, I was returning to the shop from my lunch break to find Reiner standing around socializing with the guys who work there. There was no escape... he had spotted me and there was nowhere to hide. I also noticed that my coworkers found Reiner's interest in me highly amusing. I went downstairs and started to eat my lunch, and of course who should follow me? He stood about 5 inches from me (no concept of respecting one's personal space) and eyed my food.
"Is that a special American/British food concoction you have there?"
What? "No, it's actually Mediterranean food." He is so strange.
"Ahh. I am going swimming now. With the best of London."
Really? Who are they? I wondered.
"I have some things for you. I am a nice man. I will show you."
Oh boy.
He then went upstairs to get it, came back down and presented me with a plastic bag of: 1 Diet Coke, 1 chocolate bar, 1 yogurt and 4 cookies. That was nice, actually. I began to forgive him for the spanking incident. But then he said,
"You can sleep with me in my bed tonight if you want."
"I'm sorry, what?" Unbelievable.
"You can sleep next to me tonight if you want."
"Oh, uh actually... no thanks. I'm gonna go home after work."
"I will leave you the key."
"No, really... don't do that." Jesus.
I mean, I know that I can come across as a bit too friendly sometimes but I really wasn't aware that I gave off a "Yes, I'm well up for it!! Go ahead- you can go there!!" kind of vibe. I mean, do I?
Anyway. He left for France the next day. I was off the hook... for now. Today I found out that he's coming back in a couple weeks. Judge and I are going to hide.
Just another Monday night.
I've always gravitated towards people who have a lot of character. However, I've come to find out that there is a fine line between having character and being mentally ill.
I work at a pub once a week, and it's the type of place where everyone has known each other forever. It's usually quite mellow and quiet. Last night was especially peaceful, until Drunk Old Man walked in. I have never seen this person before, but I would say he's about 60 years old, white hair and three teeth.
I knew he was going to be trouble because he was quite obviously extremely intoxicated. He confirmed this by shouting, "I'VE BEEN DRINKING SINCE 12:00!" And I emphasize the word "shouting." This man could have woken the dead. There were only three people in the whole pub at that time, which he didn't like one bit.
"Where's the PARTY?" He shouted. "What kind of music is this? (It was Kings of Leon at the time, I think) Do you have any JAMIROQUAI???" Bizarre. He asked me to turn up the music.
"No." I said.
"WHY?"
"Because I don't want to."
"WHY NOT??"
"Because it's Monday night and YOU are the only one partying."
And then, with the most perfect timing ever, two friends of mine came into the pub to visit me... much to the delight of Drunk Old Man, and much to my horror. Luckily my friend (Tamlin) is the type of person who gets a kick out of situations such as these.
Drunk Old Man eyed them up and down, taking in their stylish youthfulness before booming,
"I show up and everyone gets here now! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN MY COUNTRY??"
"Oh, let's see... 22 years?" Tamlin is a good sport.
"You could LEARN from me!"
"Okay... what could I learn from you?"
"Nothing! You can't learn anything from me!! I'm 60 years older than you! Maybe 160 years older than you!!"
Oh boy. Maybe he could have taught my friends how to steal old ladies' handbags at Madame Tussauds, which I found out he did after my boss kicked him out in about 5 more minutes.
I told him to stop shouting or else he would have to leave. Unfortunately, it is hard for a purple haired girl with a high pitched American accent to give off much of an air of authority. He turned back to my friends and said, "SO. If Arsenal win the cup or if Chelsea win the cup..." By this time they had made a move to the other side of the bar, and told Drunk Old Man to have a good night. He yelled, "It is NOT a good night!!!!" and continued to bang on about turning up the music and swearing at me and everyone else for no obvious reason.
At this time I remembered the greatness of having a boss who lives upstairs. Drunk Old Man was kicked out the door within minutes, screaming and ranting all the way down the street, most likely about to make some other barmaid's night interesting. Bless.
I work at a pub once a week, and it's the type of place where everyone has known each other forever. It's usually quite mellow and quiet. Last night was especially peaceful, until Drunk Old Man walked in. I have never seen this person before, but I would say he's about 60 years old, white hair and three teeth.
I knew he was going to be trouble because he was quite obviously extremely intoxicated. He confirmed this by shouting, "I'VE BEEN DRINKING SINCE 12:00!" And I emphasize the word "shouting." This man could have woken the dead. There were only three people in the whole pub at that time, which he didn't like one bit.
"Where's the PARTY?" He shouted. "What kind of music is this? (It was Kings of Leon at the time, I think) Do you have any JAMIROQUAI???" Bizarre. He asked me to turn up the music.
"No." I said.
"WHY?"
"Because I don't want to."
"WHY NOT??"
"Because it's Monday night and YOU are the only one partying."
And then, with the most perfect timing ever, two friends of mine came into the pub to visit me... much to the delight of Drunk Old Man, and much to my horror. Luckily my friend (Tamlin) is the type of person who gets a kick out of situations such as these.
Drunk Old Man eyed them up and down, taking in their stylish youthfulness before booming,
"I show up and everyone gets here now! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN MY COUNTRY??"
"Oh, let's see... 22 years?" Tamlin is a good sport.
"You could LEARN from me!"
"Okay... what could I learn from you?"
"Nothing! You can't learn anything from me!! I'm 60 years older than you! Maybe 160 years older than you!!"
Oh boy. Maybe he could have taught my friends how to steal old ladies' handbags at Madame Tussauds, which I found out he did after my boss kicked him out in about 5 more minutes.
I told him to stop shouting or else he would have to leave. Unfortunately, it is hard for a purple haired girl with a high pitched American accent to give off much of an air of authority. He turned back to my friends and said, "SO. If Arsenal win the cup or if Chelsea win the cup..." By this time they had made a move to the other side of the bar, and told Drunk Old Man to have a good night. He yelled, "It is NOT a good night!!!!" and continued to bang on about turning up the music and swearing at me and everyone else for no obvious reason.
At this time I remembered the greatness of having a boss who lives upstairs. Drunk Old Man was kicked out the door within minutes, screaming and ranting all the way down the street, most likely about to make some other barmaid's night interesting. Bless.
Stolen books, goats, Dio and heroin.
Another old favorite... this happened to me back in L.A. when I was apartment hunting. Maybe I should have moved in...
It's always fun to move. The never ending apartment search. The money spent. The box collecting. The hassle. But never before have I experienced this particular incident.
I found this guy online who was renting out a room in his Echo Park cottage. What attracted me was that he said he had three pet goats. As you may know, I'm a freak about ponies... so a goat is the next best thing. I set up an appointment to check the place out.
I went by the place after work one day last week. It was a small yellow house behind another house. The driveway was steep. I absently thought about how I'd have to keep a pair of sneakers with me for when I came home from clubs and such. I pictured myself tumbling down the steep driveway and falling on my face.
The door was open, so I walked in. The guy who owned the place (let's call him Sam) came out with an electric toothbrush in his mouth. He started talking to me with a mouth full of toothpaste. (He didn't rinse until 10 minutes later) He showed me the room he was renting out. It was tiny with purple walls, dirty carpeting, and a mannequin in one corner. I wasn't thrilled with it. He showed me the rest of the house. He had a million books. Three bookshelves FILLED with brand new books. Then he said, "I stole these books. Thousands of dollars worth. I believe that I have the secret of the universe somewhere in these books." Nice. He pointed at his shirt. "See this shirt? I stole it. Urban Outfitters. It's a cool shirt, ain't it?" It wasn't THAT cool. But then, their shirts ARE pretty pricey. I was still thinking about the stolen books thing though.
By the way, Sam looks like the drug addict in "Less than Zero." On a bad day.
Then I hear a "Bahhhh" coming from the backyard. I said, "Oh, let me see your goats!" We go outside and I pet the goats. They were adorable. I wanted to take them with me. Sam has a weird little area set up under a tree. He had a couch under it, a coffee table, a radio and umbrella hanging in the branches, and candles lit. It was strange. I sit on the couch with one goat in my lap and the other eating my shirt sleeve. He proceeds to tell me the story of every roommate he's ever had. He offers me some weed. I told him I couldn't, I had to drive. He said I needed to be on his level. I told him I didn't think so. He then pointed to the other side of his yard and told me he grew it over there. Nice. Now I'm picturing the police raiding the place while I'm sleeping.
Sam got into a whole thing about reincarnation, the secrets of the universe, and Buddhism. At this point I was only still there because it was entertaining. He took me to this other little room and showed me his spell books. He said all he ever did was read. I wondered if he knew about libraries. Beats the hassle of stealing.
I asked him where his other roommate was. He said he didn't know. I found out his roommate is in Dio. DIO. REMEMBER THEM?
He also told me that he might be going to jail for a month, so I would have to feed the goats for him. I didn't ask.
Anyway, as he was talking about his magic books, he pulls out a small metal box. I didn't pay much attention. The goats were still chewing on my clothes and key chain. He started taking things out of the box. Some foil, a lighter, some other stuff. I finally took a look at what he was doing. I said, "Making something?" He said, "Just smoking a little heroin." Ohhhhkay. That was my cue. I said, "I better get going." He said, "Are you moving in? Please move in. I think you would be the greatest roommate." I told him I'd let him know. As I walked out, I entertained the thought of grabbing one of the goats. But I didn't do it.
Sometimes I go by that apartment and I wonder if the goats are still there, and if the guy has gone to jail yet... I guess I'll never know.
It's always fun to move. The never ending apartment search. The money spent. The box collecting. The hassle. But never before have I experienced this particular incident.
I found this guy online who was renting out a room in his Echo Park cottage. What attracted me was that he said he had three pet goats. As you may know, I'm a freak about ponies... so a goat is the next best thing. I set up an appointment to check the place out.
I went by the place after work one day last week. It was a small yellow house behind another house. The driveway was steep. I absently thought about how I'd have to keep a pair of sneakers with me for when I came home from clubs and such. I pictured myself tumbling down the steep driveway and falling on my face.
The door was open, so I walked in. The guy who owned the place (let's call him Sam) came out with an electric toothbrush in his mouth. He started talking to me with a mouth full of toothpaste. (He didn't rinse until 10 minutes later) He showed me the room he was renting out. It was tiny with purple walls, dirty carpeting, and a mannequin in one corner. I wasn't thrilled with it. He showed me the rest of the house. He had a million books. Three bookshelves FILLED with brand new books. Then he said, "I stole these books. Thousands of dollars worth. I believe that I have the secret of the universe somewhere in these books." Nice. He pointed at his shirt. "See this shirt? I stole it. Urban Outfitters. It's a cool shirt, ain't it?" It wasn't THAT cool. But then, their shirts ARE pretty pricey. I was still thinking about the stolen books thing though.
By the way, Sam looks like the drug addict in "Less than Zero." On a bad day.
Then I hear a "Bahhhh" coming from the backyard. I said, "Oh, let me see your goats!" We go outside and I pet the goats. They were adorable. I wanted to take them with me. Sam has a weird little area set up under a tree. He had a couch under it, a coffee table, a radio and umbrella hanging in the branches, and candles lit. It was strange. I sit on the couch with one goat in my lap and the other eating my shirt sleeve. He proceeds to tell me the story of every roommate he's ever had. He offers me some weed. I told him I couldn't, I had to drive. He said I needed to be on his level. I told him I didn't think so. He then pointed to the other side of his yard and told me he grew it over there. Nice. Now I'm picturing the police raiding the place while I'm sleeping.
Sam got into a whole thing about reincarnation, the secrets of the universe, and Buddhism. At this point I was only still there because it was entertaining. He took me to this other little room and showed me his spell books. He said all he ever did was read. I wondered if he knew about libraries. Beats the hassle of stealing.
I asked him where his other roommate was. He said he didn't know. I found out his roommate is in Dio. DIO. REMEMBER THEM?
He also told me that he might be going to jail for a month, so I would have to feed the goats for him. I didn't ask.
Anyway, as he was talking about his magic books, he pulls out a small metal box. I didn't pay much attention. The goats were still chewing on my clothes and key chain. He started taking things out of the box. Some foil, a lighter, some other stuff. I finally took a look at what he was doing. I said, "Making something?" He said, "Just smoking a little heroin." Ohhhhkay. That was my cue. I said, "I better get going." He said, "Are you moving in? Please move in. I think you would be the greatest roommate." I told him I'd let him know. As I walked out, I entertained the thought of grabbing one of the goats. But I didn't do it.
Sometimes I go by that apartment and I wonder if the goats are still there, and if the guy has gone to jail yet... I guess I'll never know.
A wonderful day in Norwalk, California.
This was the first blog I ever wrote back in (I think) 2003. Taken off my old Myspace page and now posted here for your continuous enjoyment:
I have to write about my day while it's still fresh in my mind, even though I'm really tired and want to go to sleep.
...All I wanted to do was use up my free ticket to Magic Mountain that I had sitting in my drawer. So when my friend John told me he was going with some "friends," I was like, "Hey, I'll join you." Well, I had no idea what was yet to come.
So, he picks me up this morning at 9:00. We go to his friend's house in Valencia. All the way there, I am oohing and ahhing out the window because after all, when the hell do I get to go to VALENCIA? We get to his friend's house to meet who we are going with. Everyone is 10 years younger than me. I am suddenly completely aware of the laugh line around the side of my mouth and the tiny wrinkles around my eyes. One of the boys has a bottle of Jack Daniels in his pocket and a Budweiser in a water bottle. Amen.
We get to Magic Mountain. There are so many people we only went on 3 rides. It's freezing. I eat Churros. I buy a bottled water for 6$. My friend John is screaming and yelling on every single ride, even when we haven't moved yet.
We leave at 4:00. I think I'm going home. But I was wrong. There is a birthday party to go to. The boy with the Jack Daniels and Bud is having a birthday party. I was like, "Where is it?" He's like, "At a bar in Norwalk." I stared blankly. I've heard of Norwalk, but I've honestly never been there. He's like, "You've never been to NORWALK??" (As if EVERTHING happens in NORWALK!!!) I'm like, "Well, no." And he says, "Well, you are going to have a blast tonight." And I had no choice. I didn't drive that day.
We drive to Norwalk. John's married friend is driving. He tries to cop a feel on my leg while I'm in the car. I am completely disgusted. Again, I am oohing and aahhing out the window because this is a new place to me. Loved the factories and crap motels and mini malls. I'm thinking we are going to some chain like Claim Jumpers or something. No. We go to a place called BRUCE'S. I stared at the building when we pulled up. It looked like a big, white, run down motel. But it wasn't. It was a bar. We walk in, and it was a big time, family birthday party for this boy. ALLL 50 relatives are there, including the bar's regulars. Everyone is about 60 years old, and dressed up in their Sunday best. That was cool... I liked that. There are guady decorations everywhere. I order a drink and sit down. There is a huge buffet of pizza and salad and breadsticks. All the people there were pure white, and have probably lived in Norwalk all their lives. Don't think I'm knocking it, it's just an observation.
Then the trash comes in. These two chicks, who are the sisters of the guy who tried to cop a feel. Both of them work at Spearamint Rhino, and both have black lipliner on and light lipstick. The bartender asks one of them for her ID, and she says, "How bout' you see these babies instead?" and bounces her tits. Nice.
Then, the band comes in. I watch them load up on the small stage. They are called "KAOS." How rad is that name? They do some Frank Sinatra songs, which was really cool. And then they do a Sublime song. Frank must have been turning in his grave. Birthday boy runs up to the stage to sing a song. His poor 17 year old girlfriend is watching his drunk ass the entire time with a worried look on her face. Right in the middle of "Santaria" the fuse blows out. It blew out twice. Birthday boy got pissed and stomped off stage. That was funny.
During this time, I was consuming quite a bit of alcohol. This was a necessity for this night.
Then the stripper comes. We all get herded into the banquet room. (This place has a BANQUET ROOM) It's time for the stripper. Birthday Boy gets blindfolded and put in a chair. Then the dancer comes out, who is wearing a polka dot bikini and has orange-blonde hair, really tan skin, and also the black lipliner and light lipstick deal. (What IS that??) She proceeds to bump and grind on Birthday Boy, eventually knocking his chair over, and ripping his shirt off, and also his pants. This is in front of all his 60 yr. old relatives, mind you. Then she gets naked and is stuffing her goods in the boy's face, who is at first acting all horrified and embarassed, but then eventually seems to give in and is craning his neck to lick her (ahem) boobs and everything else. Soon she's naked, and brings out a drill with a dildo attached to it. She spreads out a towel, lays down on it, and hands him the drill and tells him to fuck her with it. He hesitates for one minute and then does what she says. A second later one of the relatives says "Enough!" and the party's over. Drats. By the way, 17 yr. old girlfriend was sent home a long time ago.
After this spectacle, I am really tired and want to go home. This guy is telling me about how he went on Judge Judy and this other boy won't leave me alone either. I am dying to go home. As much as I love the gorgeous city of Norwalk, I think I've had enough. But no. They want to go eat at Denny's. At this point I am starting to lose my cool. I don't think I can handle another minute. (Don't get me wrong, I am a laid back kind of girl, and I can have fun anywhere. I was just really tired at this point.) We go to Denny's. I am sitting at 3 tables put together with Spearamint Rhino girls, grandparents, and Birthday Boy and his friends. I don't want to eat. I want to go home. The two boys are sitting right by me and are still trying to talk to me. One of them worked at ESPN Zone (whatever that is) and was trying to get me to go in there. Then my ears perk up to the music in the background. They were playing THE DOVES. I kid you not. I said something out loud to ESPN boy and he said, "Oh, I know! Can you believe it!" I rolled my eyes and said, "You have never heard of these guys!!!"
Finally we get the hell out of there, after saying fond farewells to the girls and Birthday Boy and family, who were on their way to some casino. John and copafeel guy drive me home. And here I am. Don't worry, I took lots of pictures of tonight, so maybe I'll post some of it. I'm going to bed. I'm going to dream of Churros and Norwalk dog food factories. Good night.
I have to write about my day while it's still fresh in my mind, even though I'm really tired and want to go to sleep.
...All I wanted to do was use up my free ticket to Magic Mountain that I had sitting in my drawer. So when my friend John told me he was going with some "friends," I was like, "Hey, I'll join you." Well, I had no idea what was yet to come.
So, he picks me up this morning at 9:00. We go to his friend's house in Valencia. All the way there, I am oohing and ahhing out the window because after all, when the hell do I get to go to VALENCIA? We get to his friend's house to meet who we are going with. Everyone is 10 years younger than me. I am suddenly completely aware of the laugh line around the side of my mouth and the tiny wrinkles around my eyes. One of the boys has a bottle of Jack Daniels in his pocket and a Budweiser in a water bottle. Amen.
We get to Magic Mountain. There are so many people we only went on 3 rides. It's freezing. I eat Churros. I buy a bottled water for 6$. My friend John is screaming and yelling on every single ride, even when we haven't moved yet.
We leave at 4:00. I think I'm going home. But I was wrong. There is a birthday party to go to. The boy with the Jack Daniels and Bud is having a birthday party. I was like, "Where is it?" He's like, "At a bar in Norwalk." I stared blankly. I've heard of Norwalk, but I've honestly never been there. He's like, "You've never been to NORWALK??" (As if EVERTHING happens in NORWALK!!!) I'm like, "Well, no." And he says, "Well, you are going to have a blast tonight." And I had no choice. I didn't drive that day.
We drive to Norwalk. John's married friend is driving. He tries to cop a feel on my leg while I'm in the car. I am completely disgusted. Again, I am oohing and aahhing out the window because this is a new place to me. Loved the factories and crap motels and mini malls. I'm thinking we are going to some chain like Claim Jumpers or something. No. We go to a place called BRUCE'S. I stared at the building when we pulled up. It looked like a big, white, run down motel. But it wasn't. It was a bar. We walk in, and it was a big time, family birthday party for this boy. ALLL 50 relatives are there, including the bar's regulars. Everyone is about 60 years old, and dressed up in their Sunday best. That was cool... I liked that. There are guady decorations everywhere. I order a drink and sit down. There is a huge buffet of pizza and salad and breadsticks. All the people there were pure white, and have probably lived in Norwalk all their lives. Don't think I'm knocking it, it's just an observation.
Then the trash comes in. These two chicks, who are the sisters of the guy who tried to cop a feel. Both of them work at Spearamint Rhino, and both have black lipliner on and light lipstick. The bartender asks one of them for her ID, and she says, "How bout' you see these babies instead?" and bounces her tits. Nice.
Then, the band comes in. I watch them load up on the small stage. They are called "KAOS." How rad is that name? They do some Frank Sinatra songs, which was really cool. And then they do a Sublime song. Frank must have been turning in his grave. Birthday boy runs up to the stage to sing a song. His poor 17 year old girlfriend is watching his drunk ass the entire time with a worried look on her face. Right in the middle of "Santaria" the fuse blows out. It blew out twice. Birthday boy got pissed and stomped off stage. That was funny.
During this time, I was consuming quite a bit of alcohol. This was a necessity for this night.
Then the stripper comes. We all get herded into the banquet room. (This place has a BANQUET ROOM) It's time for the stripper. Birthday Boy gets blindfolded and put in a chair. Then the dancer comes out, who is wearing a polka dot bikini and has orange-blonde hair, really tan skin, and also the black lipliner and light lipstick deal. (What IS that??) She proceeds to bump and grind on Birthday Boy, eventually knocking his chair over, and ripping his shirt off, and also his pants. This is in front of all his 60 yr. old relatives, mind you. Then she gets naked and is stuffing her goods in the boy's face, who is at first acting all horrified and embarassed, but then eventually seems to give in and is craning his neck to lick her (ahem) boobs and everything else. Soon she's naked, and brings out a drill with a dildo attached to it. She spreads out a towel, lays down on it, and hands him the drill and tells him to fuck her with it. He hesitates for one minute and then does what she says. A second later one of the relatives says "Enough!" and the party's over. Drats. By the way, 17 yr. old girlfriend was sent home a long time ago.
After this spectacle, I am really tired and want to go home. This guy is telling me about how he went on Judge Judy and this other boy won't leave me alone either. I am dying to go home. As much as I love the gorgeous city of Norwalk, I think I've had enough. But no. They want to go eat at Denny's. At this point I am starting to lose my cool. I don't think I can handle another minute. (Don't get me wrong, I am a laid back kind of girl, and I can have fun anywhere. I was just really tired at this point.) We go to Denny's. I am sitting at 3 tables put together with Spearamint Rhino girls, grandparents, and Birthday Boy and his friends. I don't want to eat. I want to go home. The two boys are sitting right by me and are still trying to talk to me. One of them worked at ESPN Zone (whatever that is) and was trying to get me to go in there. Then my ears perk up to the music in the background. They were playing THE DOVES. I kid you not. I said something out loud to ESPN boy and he said, "Oh, I know! Can you believe it!" I rolled my eyes and said, "You have never heard of these guys!!!"
Finally we get the hell out of there, after saying fond farewells to the girls and Birthday Boy and family, who were on their way to some casino. John and copafeel guy drive me home. And here I am. Don't worry, I took lots of pictures of tonight, so maybe I'll post some of it. I'm going to bed. I'm going to dream of Churros and Norwalk dog food factories. Good night.
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