The one with Vodka and hate

October 18, 2010

The night progressed as every other night fueled by free vodka would. This is to say much quicker than normal. It started with me not going and then somehow ending up on a bar stool drinking Finlandia next to the two people I’m always drinking with.

On my left there was an open seat and the bar was occupied by my star wars bag which I instinctively held anytime someone, not refilling my empty glass came near. The bartenders were nice, attentive and generous with the vodka. I made two new friends that evening.

Finlandia Tangerine and Finlandia Mango.

Mr. Grapefruit wasn’t too bad either. We only met through other acquaintances though.

There were shots. Plenty of them actually. I know that the number of shots I had was plenty because the guy in the bathroom told me so. Me and the nice warmth slowly filling my head made our way to the bathroom. I pushed the door open with what felt an inappropriate amount of surrealism. It swung open too easily and with a force that bolstered my ego. The music the DJ refused to let die faded just a bit. My thoughts were once again free.

“I am superman” I thought! Shook my head strongly no, not superman he is a douche nozzle.

“Why would you choose Superman?” damn you thoughts and your warm blanket of vodka. First you choose my arch enemy and then you try to overthrow my mind and accuse me of the horrible crime you in fact committed.

“Did I ask that out loud?” Damn.

Oh man did I ask the Superman question out loud? No I couldn’t have, because surely if I had there would be someone in here to hear it. Of course there was nobody in there with me. It was just me, my rebellious thoughts, the Finlandia and the sticker of someone’s face inside the urinal.

The room was one step from the bathrooms with one weak light bulb swinging from a chain you see in horror movies. The walls sported the typical bar restroom graffiti. What would we do if there weren’t any drunken sentences scrawled on the walls? The thing that always gives me pause (and did yet again that night) is the words carved into the mirrors. This act would involve effort. Said “artist” would have to crawl up in some instances and at the very least leaning over an endlessly wet sink. Plus the work it has to take to cut into it.
I stood in there soaking the entire room up. Not that there was much. Said mirror with all sorts of meaningless things etched into it. A pink flyer leaned on the side wall like a drunk. I kicked open the stall door and I’m still not sure why.

Nothing of note.

Just a bit of toilet paper looped lovingly over the handle. Suddenly the stall was filled with sex. I could see the shoed foot pushing up against where the stall and its door connected. It pumped. The leg bent and lengthened. Her dress pulled up and tucked with a neatness not matching what was happening.
I was writing a poem starring into the stall at bar on Coventry. Was this actually happening? My notebook was out and I was scribbling away. I heard the music start to get loud and turned. The poem would have to wait. I stepped up to the sink and slid my notebook into my bag. It thumped in against my leg and a line screamed out.

“Hey buddy nice night huh?” That was the dumbest line I ever heard.

“Deep in thought?” the intruder continued. He was wearing skinny jeans and a “Killers” shirt. Over this he wore a button up shirt, unbuttoned and yet somehow still tucked in. I explained off that I was lost in a poem. He nodded and grunted an approving-esque sound.

“Hey we shared a shot together didn’t we?”As I dried my hands he made his way over. His eyes were brown and he wore beat up Adidas. I knew he’d be the guy banging the girl in my poem. He’d let her pay for the shots and then fuck her talentlessly in the one dirty bathroom stall of a men’s room. She’d have to finish herself in the parking lot after the two minute warrior was long gone. I hated him. I wanted him to shut up. I wanted out of here. I wanted my glass refilled, and the warmth in my head to burn brightly instead.
The free vodka hour was over though.

“Uhm yeah I think the whole bar got shots.” I said.

“Right. Who was the girl that did it?” He shifted. I really hoped he wasn’t getting any that night.

“The bartender?”

“She bought them?” It was a gargley voice. It was as if each letter poured out of his throat. Did he whisper wet nothings into her ear as he used her? Surely she’d vomit all over his checkered shirt?

“Well the bar bought them.” I hate you. “The girls on the other side of the bar asked for them and the bartender included us all.” I hope yours was poisoned!

“Oh.” He washed his hands with a violence that was almost pretty. Water splashed the floor, the mirror and him. “I only got one shot. What about you?”

“4.” I felt the warmth being taken over by the coldness in my chest. I would not write the poem if he was portrayed in a good light. Muse be damned.

“That’s plenty.” He wiped his fucking hands on his jeans. “Don’t you think?”

“I could always use more.”

I pulled my ninja turtle stocking cap down tight around my head. I’d trap the disdain inside there if I could.


The one with hipsters

September 22, 2010

This is a review of the Best Coast show.
I promise. Sort of.

Well you’ve probably read me enough to know what the case is. This is a review of the Clovers/Male Bonding/Best Coast show that took place at the Grog Shop last night.


I was there. I will review it but really this is a show that will be discussed in terms of the things (read conversations) I heard. There are no pictures except for poorly drawn ones that I probably won’t post. Actually I lie there is this:


The only picture I took last night. It is of Admiral Ackbar with Stiller #2. After the show sitting at the bar I pulled him out (and the Admiral Ackbar too—Heyooo!) and stood him on the bar. John K who enjoyed the sentiment made the “It’s a trap!” cup soon after.

I’m getting way ahead of myself.

Like that is the end of the night and I haven’t even discussed the beginning.

You know the sex that took place beforehand. I’m just kidding.

Or am I? No really I am

Or—I know I know shut up and get on with it before you all leave.


Anylamejoke before the night could begin we had to move the car from where it was. As we walked over to it a lady in an overalls shorts combo thing stopped us.

Lady: I’m gonna keep it real. I just got out of the Cleveland Heights jail cell. I just want a few bucks so I can get a beer and a cigarette. I’m just keeping it real you know what I’m saying.

The wife gave her a buck. I think.

On our way to the Grog Shop this happened:
Girl 1: “Remember the time we stole that wheelchair?”
Girl 2: “Yeah that was when we were stalking Dennis Kucinich”

We met Pelvic Joann out front and before we could get an old black dude said “Hey how you doing?’

Old black dude: Can I sing something for you?
Me: I dunno can you? (I’m such a dick.)
Wife: No. (The whole time she never looked up from twitter on her phone.)

He proceeds to give a mumbled low (if not somewhat creative) rap about Halloween. We headed in and there were a few minutes before the first band (Clovers) was to take the stage. As the lovely ladies I was with ordered the drinks I listened to the crowd.

A digression: I never saw so many people holding PBRs before. It was like every other person had one. Also someone was drinking wine at the grog shop? Really?

Apparently I should have worn v neck whit tee’s and skinny jeans. This conversation actually took place.

Guy in trucker hat: Dude. What is this band again?
Hipster in skinny jeans: Best Coast.
Trucker hat: What kind of music?
Skinny jeans: Hipster rock/pop.
Trucker hat: What the fuck is hipster rock.
Skinny jeans: A normal rock or pop show but you know by hipsters.
Trucker hat: Why do I hang out with you?

Now normally I may have sympathized with the trucker hat dude except it was a Budweiser trucker hat and he kept lifting up his shirt (you know “nonchalantly”) when chicks passed. Oh and he tried this line on a chick who was trying to snap a pic of her friend and herself: “You’re too pretty for a picture like that. You need someone who can capture that beauty.”

Anylameguy Clovers had a long set for an opening act at the grog. They weren’t too bad either. They had some catchy stuff but nothing that stood out too much. Number one problem with them was never said one word to the audience—other than “thank you”—at the end.

The next band Male Bonding was billed as a punk band but really did not come off as all that punk. I kid you not skinny jeans also at one point called them “Hipster Punk.” I left his area then. They too were not bad but not really memorable either. They tried a little more stage presence but couldn’t muster much.

The crowd surged for Best Coast. They played their known stuff and mixed in other (not as good—too harsh?) pieces too. The show was fast paced and hustled along. This was also because of a lack of interaction and connection, other than an awkward bit about her cat that has seizures. Best Coast came off a little heavier than what I had heard. I dug that.

I had no real connection to the band (other than liking what I had heard prior) and chose to not fight the crowd and stayed back. I scribbled some poetry in my book while letting the music and words float to me.

A strange but cute (I love you wifey!) blonde chick in an odd dress asked if I wanted to dance. When I politely declined she offered me some water. I don’t get it either. The whole time this was happening on twitter:

@Clevelandpoet (me duh!): @grogbrit now if I’m at the @grog_shop shouldn’t you be? If only for the fact that I am.

And eventually her hilarious response:

@grogbrit: @kittenkaboom @clevelandpoet – god, how do i explain? spastic girl running around, blue sweater, jeans, little heels? write that on my grave about 14 hours ago via web

Now unbeknownst to me (I couldn’t get my twitter to work—that sounds bad) I was actually chilling right next to the lovely Brittany for most of Best Coast. After the show we got her replies and eventually asked John K to help find her.

Or the wifey scared John K by saying Grogbrit! Then grabbing him by the shoulders and saying it again. He was like “what happened!” and then when explained pointed her out.

I must say the highlight of the evening was finally meeting her. I say this not just because there were free drinks involved but because she was way awesome! There had been several attempts that always fell through. This time was a success and good times.

Hooray for twitter.

Wait what was the point of this post again? Who knows but check out @overheardohio to see the funny shit that is heard daily.

The recap where I’m lazy

August 30, 2010

The weekend has once again come and passed. I didn’t want Monday to show its face and ruin everything. I dreaded it all night. Okay pause. I just wanted all you employed folk to feel better about your dreading and dragging. Me? I’m sitting here in my boxers sipping coffee and listening to the radio. What is Monday?
Anyunemployed the weekend was not really filled at all. I think I left the apartment 3 times since Friday.
Yeah I’m lazy I’ve learned to love and accept it. Saturday we headed over to Astound! to finally make our comic book run and I had 40 bucks of comic books waiting for me.

Friday meant it was time to see Lou Motherflipping Barlow. The show rocked the Grog for something like 2 hours. It was awesome. It was way fun to hang with Silliebean and the lovely Camilla. It was fun yelling “do it” at Lou Barlow with her. It was also fun to hear her heckle someone she likes.

Good times.

Such as silliebean leaning in and telling Camilla’s friend that she heard that the people from Great Lakes Brewing Company are dicks and he replied:

I work there.

It was awesome! Now pictures:








Yeah that’s all. I did say I was lazy. If you haven’t read the other story from Friday night read it here.

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The one with the sexy pictures

May 6, 2010

Hello gentle reader and welcome. Welcome back to that warm cozy place we call (thanks to the brilliant LiLu) TMI Thursday. This one dear family involves sex just a bit. Not really the focus of the post and not really discussed so read on if you like.

Yes ever the junkie I crawl back on hands and knees and
Tap tap tap that vein.
Just one more hit baby.

*shakes box of drugs at you* Where did you learn to do this? Huh?

I wonder if I’ll cut that beginning part tomorrow morning before (or after?) posting. Who knows? I mean it is probably a bit insensitive and who knows how funny it actually is. On the one hand that commercial was too funny and easy to make fun of. Every now and again the wife and I bust out with “I learned it by watching you!” It is very fun. Then on the other hand that commercial is rather old and who knows how many of you actually know of it? Here:

AnyPSA contrary to the drivel above it wasn’t a night filled with drugs. The night was filled with drink after drink after drink. Ah the Grog Shop how I miss thee. It has been a long time since the three shillelaghs have made their way to that wonderful Mecca of booze and music. That really needs to change. Like soon.

Anywhiskey it was for a free show being held at the grog. Now this part was very hazy for obvious reasons. I’m looking at you Mr. Jack Daniels. Actually I know Jack is my best friend and only wants to help me have a good time. He loves me and I love him. So as the story goes (hazy as it is and helped along by the wife) we attended said show but pretty much never left our seats at the bar. Where we drank and as I stated before
drank some more.

Did I mention that mostly we sat at the bar and drank heavily? So after some hugging and laughing and stumbling outside all three of us (pelvic joann) parted ways. We all walked home of course—just another piece of the awesomeness that the Grog Shop is.

But you really don’t care about the before. Oh no dear gentle reader you want the juicy details that happened because of the drinky drinks and the stumbling home. After we made into our apartment things got interesting. It started out rather innocent just some usual drunk joking and more laughing. We were in separate rooms for a few minutes and then some sort of mind link occurred because next thing I know we were both in the same room and naked. I’d like to stress there was not talking about this it just happened that we both just took all our clothes off. We were all over each other and slowly made our way into the bedroom.

Now in there it started to get hot and heavy. Drunk sex can be quite fun. After a few minutes the wife unit (haha I said unit) said “you should get the camera”

I stopped what I was doing.


She confirmed that I had heard right and I ran off to get the camera. Yeah sexy sex pictures! Well not exactly because if you recall I told you we were really wasted. I mean really. Sure we had fun and the sex was good but the pictures not so much. We were somehow not too drunk to have really great sex but way too drunk to even take decent pictures.

There was falling off the bed (once trying to pose and the other trying to take a picture) and stumbling around. There was falling into walls and doors as we tried to take picture. For the most part the pictures consist of: An elbow. Lots of pictures of the camera strap. A few leg ones and some nice cheek shots (of course not of the butt variety)

All in all it was a pretty hilarious attempt. We swore to never tell anyone and then like 5 days later proceeded to tell Pelvic Joann and now all of you.

Smile and say cheese bitches!

My wife will punch you in the kidney or the Dinosaur Jr. Show

November 23, 2009

On Friday there were Dinosaurs in Cleveland!

No not that—thankfully. Wow that show was so damn bad. God I hated that baby. It made me want to build a time machine or (buy a DeLorean) so I could go back in time and punch baby Dinosaurs in the face. Anydooozle….Back to the Dinosaurs at the Grog Shop okay technically it was Dinosaur Jr. You know these guys:


Errr actually these guys:


A slightly older version, but they sort of prove the fine wine theory. That’s right in my vague, way off the beaten path way I’m saying that Friday the missus and I went to the Dinosaur Jr. show. It had been a long time coming—In more ways than one. Dinosaur Jr. was one of my fav bands as a ute (OH snap a My Cousin Vinny reference!), and a clear inspiration to Kurt and Nirvana. I of course like too many bands never got to see them. Then they disbanded in 97. What is this a history lesson in Dinosaur Jr.? Screw that go do your own leg work! It’s called Google people! We bought the tickets for the show like 6 years ago (more like June or so) but it seemed to take forever to arrive. So the big night approaches and how do we prepare for it? Well none other than the Rock mantra of sex and drugs! Yeah that’s right the wife and I got home from work and took a nap! Now that’s a swerve! Could I use anymore exclamation points? We slept for about two hours and then headed over to the show. The place was packed with a unique mixture of cool 40 year olds, teens and the douche kind of 30-40 year olds (The “I was at their first show man” types.) We survived the wannabe Dresden Dolls band that opened for them—who were a lot better (read as not as sucky) than their MySpace page led us to believe. As the band took the stage what happened? A herd of mutant giraffes swooped in front of us. Fuckers. I mean we are smurfs here and from where they were there was no real difference of sliding in front of us on the d-low. I’m pretty sure they were just 12 year olds on steroids! Here are the results of part of the show being behind these urban Giraffes. You know the hold the camera high over ya head and wave it like you just don’t care and snap away?


Then we were invited in front of some cool people (and fellow smurf people) Side note: God damn you Microsoft Word acknowledge Smurf is a fucking word!


Anydiddle. This is when the shit hit the fan and got fun. Nearing the end of the 2 hour show the moshing began. Nothing is lamer than old farts and young idiots slamming into each other. So as this got out of control (when is it in control) my wife decided to police it. You know my tiny barely 5’2 wife? Then the smurfettes that were alongside of us were inspired by her spunk and decided to chip in. First they just pushed the idiots away but this of course made the idiots think they were playing along. Enter the kidney punching. There really is nothing as hilarious as three short girls punching giants in the kidneys, backs, and necks. It was sort of hot too.

A crude recreation of the event:


Fun Friday 9-11-09

September 11, 2009

Before I get to Fun Friday I aim to say a few things I learned while getting drunk watching a show at the Grog Shop. I will start by saying this post is being written whilst sipping coffee and enjoying the fact that I’m still feeling drunk the next morning. This is the equation.

5 jack and gingers + 1 jack and coke (I forgive you Marty) + ½ Strongbow + 2 shots of Jameson + good friends +not having to be at work till 2:15 –a hangover (lucky this time I guess) = win

1. @kittenkaboom and @lviboheme ruin all my twitpic fun by nitpicking (and not liking) almost every picture and therefore I can never send it.
2. This hat: Vermont Roadie 101

Everyone wants it. Every time I wear it someone tries to take it for the nite or for the weekend.
3. I’ve kind of become no fun. I rant about work too damn much. This is especially true when I’ve not seen you for a long time.
4. It will always be funny when a band sings poorly “I looook like my mom” and I respond with “and singggg like my dog.”
5. If you cover the stage with lamps and a nightstand with books don’t fret when I yell “read from one of the books.”
6. My dinosaur nose (Linzi and I have settled with Triceratops) is often confused with a wolf nose for some reason.

Okay now on to this week’s Fun Friday:

The Cleveland Museum of Art’s Chalk Fest.

Saturday September 12, 11:00 a.m.–5:00 p.m.
Sunday, September 13, noon–5:00 p.m.
Fine Arts Garden

This was an idea offered up by the lovely Linzi. It sounds real interesting even if I’ve not decided I’m going to give up my day to watch football and fútbol. It is a two day event though I do not mean to imply any Clevelander should be anywhere other than watching the Brown’s home opener at 1PM on Sunday. There are plenty of other times to go though. It has an interesting history. This is from the CMA website:

The I Madonnari Chalk Tradition
In 16th-century Italy, beggars, using chalk on the plazas outside cathedrals, copied paintings of the Madonna by Raphael and his contemporaries. With these street painters, called I Madonnari (painters of the Madonna), an artistic tradition was born. Today I Madonnari festivals are held annually in Europe, Africa, and the United States. In 1990 our festival brought this Renaissance tradition to Cleveland.

The event itself is free (this should read FREE) but if you want to draw it’ll cost you.

Chalk Your Own Pictures
Large square and 24-color box of chalk: $16 each
Small square and 12-color box of chalk: $8 each

Individuals, families, schools, and neighborhood groups are all invited to participate. Children under 15 must be accompanied by supervising adults. Sign up when you arrive. Groups are encouraged to pre-register by calling 216-707-2483 by Wednesday, September 9. Non-paid advance registrations will be held until 1:00 Sunday. Hell if anything be inspired by the drawings, go out and buy you some chalk and do it in random places. Take pictures if you do!

Enjoy your Friday and your weekend. Go Browns!

thankful thursday

August 27, 2009

now today would normally be thankful thursday. as of late i’ve found it hard to be in anything but a dour and somber mood. redundant much? some of my friends may even throw around the ugliness that is emo out there. guilty as charged (well at least to the dour and somberness). to try and keep this short and simple i’ve not felt very thankful since ironically last thursdays thankful thursday.

so i could skip this thursdays or i can go with the ole chestnut my annoying coworker likes to put out there. you know the “just be happy you have a job” nugget of wonderfulness. the problem being she usually says it when i’m complaining about the people i work with not neccessarily the job. well that and she complains her job insessantly. then of course as i’m having a real crap time at work i get three unprompted texts. my mom my wife and my best friend. all of them have randomly sent me some sort of love. that gets me thinking about just how much of the tiny things i need to feel thankful about. so all this leads to thankful thursday and a bunch of small, general things. that and some more whining and some pictures.

my mom: who always ends her texts messages with -mom
my wife: who accepts that I watch sports more than most people eat.
my best friend: for always being there. and calling me ginsberg.
cedar lee cult movie series: they show friday the 13th part 3 3d nuff said.
fox soccer channel: I love me some soccer.
my job: while it has begun to suck it keeps me going to see soccer live.
the grog shop: providing drinks and good music

so last night i went to the grog shop to support a friends band. posh army check them out at i wasn’t going to be able to go because of work but somehow schedules got changed and i found myself able to attend. now the only problem was that i was in a dour, foul, crabby mood. i had promised i’d go if i could so i mustered up the will power and walked over by myself (the wife was at school). now while there i decided to have one four drinks-a highball-jack and ginger ale. i ended up a bit well ok kinda drunk. not fall down, but muddled thinking and not so sad any more drunk. the fact that i got sort of drunk while by myself at the grog led me to question the level of sad my existence was. i sent this notion to l-rizz and she didn’t miss a beat responding:

“that’s not sad its introspective.”

you see this is why i love her and am thankful for her. go read her blog! i really have nothing more to add so here are a bunch of pics from the show last night.


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