Posts filed under ‘buds’
It’s been so long since I’ve had any Lil Bitch related drama, last weekend was almost a trip down memory lane. OK, it would have been if I hadn’t been so freaking annoyed.
I bought tickets for Lil Bitch and I to go see Mission of Burma at the Brighton Music Hall months ago. I was positive it would sell out. I mean, who would miss up a chance to see MoB in an awesome tiny venue like the former Harper’s Ferry? Apparently lots of people because it didn’t sell out. But anyway… It had snowed the night before, so Lil Bitch came up in the afternoon to hang out so he wouldn’t have to drive in the snow at night. Or something. He brought burritos and tequila as well as a bottle of what he thought was Margarita mix, but actually had tequila already in it. After mixing it with tequila it was pretty strong, to say the least. I had had the lovely norovirus all week and so I didn’t drink so much. At some point Lil Bitch and Dee got the idea that they wanted to go to Deep Ellum (a local bar) and get some hot cocktails. So, we went down to the bar and drank hot buttered rums which were delicious… but alcoholic. Lil Bitch insisted upon buying us shots of Jameson on the way back since he didn’t think he could make it all the way back to my place through the snow (we were walking), so we stopped at The Draft and had shots.
When we got back home, LB was in that special surly phase of drunkeness. He started talking about how his stepsister got raped in France and how she deserved it because she had narced on her classmates in high school or something. After about the 15th exclamation of “The bitch DESERVED it!” I tried to change the subject to no avail, but it was time to leave for the show so whatever.
LB has been already pretty tanked for some time now, yet still we get beers at the show– $4 for a 16 oz PBR, which LB rants on about being criminal. He even texted Pete a poorly spelled and even poorly worded rant about how it’s all his fault PBR is so expensive damn hipsters. I wasn’t quite sure of his logic, but this is Little Bitch we’re talking about. Logic is not one of his strong points on the soberest of days.
The opening band were called Shepherdess, and while they weren’t exactly my thing, LB decided they were the worst band in the history of music and proceeded to tell me this in between yelling “YOU SUUUUUUUUUCKK!” at them. I tried repeatedly to shut him up, which of course just made him rowdier. Eventually the bouncer came over and cut him off from further drinking. Thus, he tried to get me to buy him a drink. The conversation went like this:
LB: Buy me a drink. I can’t get one myself.
ME: there’s a reason you’re cut off.
LB: I want a drink
ME: sucks to be you!
LB: I want beer.
ME: I want a pet unicorn.
LB (shouting): UNICORNS CAN SUCK MY DIIIIIIIIIIICCCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!
When he realized that I was not going to buy him a drink, he yelled “THIS IS FASCIST BULLSHIT! I’M OUTTA HERE!” and stomped off. I was a bit relieved, to tell you the truth, and pushed up closer to get a better spot to see Mission of Burma. This is the one time being short is awesome– you can pretty much shove your way to the front of a concert and nobody cares because pretty much everyone can see over your head anyway. it almost negates the fact that if you’re short, you can’t see a damn thing at concerts unless you are in the very front anyway!
Anyway, the band starts and, as always, they are awesome. They get 2 songs in when I start getting texts.
“Where are you? I’m scared and alone.”
I tell him to go wait for me at my house. He replies that he doesn’t know how to get there. I text him directions (it’s less than a mile home). He saysto come get him, he’s still confused. I text him the house number and tell him to get a cab.
“But I dint [sic] do anything! I’m cold and lost.”
Finally it dawns on me that if he really does manage to find his way back to my place, he will get into his ginormous SUV and drive home, probably killing himself as well as mow down a bus full of nuns chaperoning orphans to a party with kittens or something. I leave after the third song and all the way home he rants about how it’s a conspiracy and he has every right to heckle crappy bands and it’s because of the Obama administration that everyone is forced to be polite and how he’s going to vote Republican and he’s never going back to that fascist place and fuck Mission of Burma, they’re not really punks if they let bouncers kick rowdy drunks out of their shows etc. I stick up for the bouncer, and, after calling me a “dumb bitch” and a “stupid cunt” several more times, he says possibly the best line of the night:
WHY DON’T YOU GO FUCK NEWT GINGRICH, SINCE YOU LOVE THE DOMINANT PARADIGM SO MUCH!
I don’t know, the unicorn line was pretty good too, but it didn’t contain the phrase “dominant paradigm” used without irony.
We get back to my place and I physically wrestle his car keys away. He calls me many more bad names and insults my political views, my hypocrisy and mentions how “slaves like [me] exist to suck the cocks of the dominant paradigm.”
“Well the dominant paradigm is telling you to get your fucking ass into bed and sleep it off!” yes, I couldn’t think of a better witty comeback. I was fairly furious at this point.
Cursing, he climbs onto my bed and, after muttering about fascism and stuff a bit more, falls asleep, snoring loudly. I go downstairs to sleep on the couch. Sometime in the early morning, LB finds the keys I left for him and leaves. I go back up into my bed, since I’m sleeping on the small 2-person couch because Tanya is sick and crashing on the big couch. I notice that the pillow is upside down– it’s the pillowcase I decorated myself of a menorah, and it’s menorah-side-down.
That’s what it looked like after I finished it (it came with crayons)– The punchline to the night is… it no longer looks like that because when I turned it over I discovered that it was covered with used burrito. Yes, LB had turned the pillow over rather than clean it up. W.T.F.!?!?!?
I wish I could say
That’s when I reached for my revolver.
July 8, 2011 at 5:40 pm Enter your password to view comments.
The past 2 weeks have been a blur of traveling! I’ll start with the most recent episode first. Jesse (Tanya’s Cousin) and Didi got married this past weekend in Maine. I rode up with Laura & Jack and the Kid. It’s a 5 hour car trip since this was near Bangor. Since Jesse and Didi are big fans of pie, they decided to have lots of pies at the reception in lieu of a traditional cake. Thus Laura spent all day Friday making pies while I occupied the Tiny Terror’s attention. We set off with the car full of pie for the Great Not-Yet-White North around 7:00 and got to the site sometime after midnight. I was in heaven– I was in a car surrounded by pie! Then I realized, wait, I can’t actually eat the pie. Perhaps this was the other place; not heaven!
The festivities took place at a boy scout camp (J & D met there or something, I forget the story), so most of us stayed in the rather rustic cabins there. Now northern Maine has a slightly different climate from Boston’s, something that I must have taken into consideration at some point because I checked the weather there 5 times before I left. For some reason, though, I only looked at the daytime high temperature. I didn’t think about checking the low temperatures, not remembering that they would definitely affect people staying in cabins that are normally used just in the summer.
I stumbled through the pitch black woods to the cabin with Rob after we unloaded the pies, completely disoriented. Jack, Laura & The Kid were staying in a hotel because they really didn’t want to deal with a still jet-lagged baby in these provincial conditions and who could blame them? I, still dressed in my light cotton capri pants and a t-shirt because it had been 70 degrees and sunny in Boston, huddled around the campfire, frequently rotating to expose all sides of my body to the heat, much like one would roast a marshmallow. I finally put on all my 21st century clothes at once (this was a Victorian themed wedding and I had made a dress, more on that later) and climbed into my trusty sleeping bag. Once inside I realized that I had no idea what the temperature rating on the bag was. I inherited it from a former housemate years ago and had only field tested it in summer months, or whilst crashing in buildings featuring heating systems. I discovered fairly rapidly that it is definitely not rated for mid-October nights in northern Maine. I was OK if I scrunched my body into a fetal position with my head inside the bag and then didn’t do things like move, twitch, or breathe lest I expose a piece of body to the frigid pockets of air that were lurking in every fold and crease of the bag. Plus, as I always camped with Pad, and he is a purist, I didn’t bring a pillow. Pillows are for wimps. You stuff clothing into your sleeping bag sack and use that if your dainty little head needs anything at all. Well, it worked fine for my 12-year-old self, but my 37-year-old self woke up shivering at 4:00 a.m. with a major stiff neck from being oddly wedged against the rail of the top bunk and the lumpy zipper of my cotton pants which were the only article of clothing I wasn’t wearing and therefore had stuffed into the sack.
I woke up at 4 a.m. with pains in my neck and specks of cold around my body that threatened to expand should I accidentally sneeze or if the earth rotated or anything. Below me and across the narrow aisle from me my cabin mates were snoring like twin buzzsaws, often in unison, occasionally in harmony. The sounds coming from the lower bunk across the almost person-width aisle were lighter, gentler snores, kind of like my cat’s, only more manic. As I lay there contemplating the chilly absolute blackness, I thought to myself, “THIS FUCKING SUCKS!”
I then came to another realization. I had never been this miserable with sleeping conditions before. Now I have slept in some pretty unfavorable conditions. Always a traveler on a budget, I’ve caught Z’s in my share of doorways, train station floors, airport benches, decks of ferry boats, buses and pretty much any other transportation vehicle out there. I slept on the road in the scrubby, dusty desert when my truck broke down in northern Kenya. I’ve camped all over and crashed on the floors of friends with all manner of crappy, dirty, cramped and loud apartments (my favorite being when I slept on a pile of dirty clothes at a place Squeals lived for a time). I’ve stayed in sketchy hotels, motels, B & Bs, pensiones, hostels and YMCAs all over the world. If your B&B doesn’t have a surly bearded woman grunting while shoving indescribable bread products at you in the morning, you’re not really traveling! –that’s my motto. However, no matter the circumstances, I never really minded because I don’t care about accommodations. I can sleep anywhere. If you get a crappy night’s sleep, you get up the next morning, have a cup of tea and try to find a way to not repeat it that night.
So the fact that I woke up thinking THIS SUCKS was kind of significant. I feel like I’ve reached another one of life’s milestones, like finding a grey hair, paying taxes, or losing a tooth. I have become Old and Wimpy. Maybe this means I’ve grown up? Maybe it means I’m wealthy and used to living the Good Life? At any rate, staying in a bunkbed in a drafty cabin when the temperature is predicted to be in the 20’s is no longer a goal in my book! Needless to say, I crashed the next night on Laura’s and Jack’s hotel room floor.
The wedding itself was really nice! I am notorious for hating weddings. For a spell, when many of my friends and acquaintances were becoming espoused, I made a hobby of avoiding weddings. I am generally not a fan of things involving hordes of people engaging in mass outpourings of trite, sentimental platitudes. However, this wedding was a mixture of traditional and funky hippiness– there was humor in it, and I dig humor. I think I just get twitchy when I am surrounded by people who are taking something really really seriously when I’m not. I mean, weddings in my mind should be fun! They shouldn’t just be exercises in spewing hackneyed statements to people whom you purposely haven’t seen in decades as some tend to be. This wedding was outdoors in the sunshine (it warmed up to the low 50s by then), and the scenery was beautiful. Though rather frosty, Maine is beautiful at this time of year– it was by a small lake and all the trees were turning colors. It was a postcard perfect day (if you disregarded the breeze which seemed to come from all directions at once).
The reception was in the camp dining hall. Being a token single person, I always get put at the Random Leftover People table. Usually this table includes that great-uncle you had to invite to keep family harmony, some co-workers and maybe an old family friend or two. At this wedding, the random folks were actually pretty cool. One chick made her own Victorian-oid garb and she was funny and interesting. Her husband was wearing a vintage military uniform from the 1880s with a kilt. He bought me drinks all night, too. They were pretty cool. Of course I can’t remember their names for the life of me, but they were pretty chill.
The wedding was sort of Victorian themed, so I spent forever making an outfit for it. It turned out that Laura and I were the only ones in full Victorian garb– a few people (like the chick at my table) had made efforts– a blouse here, a skirt there– but I felt like I stood out like a sore thumb. Plus, I have not made an article of clothing since I was a teenager, so it wasn’t holding together that well in places. I do feel like I accomplished something in making it, though. It makes me look like a school marm, but a lot of the fashion of that era has that look.
Anyway… I’m back home now after 2 weeks of travelling. Though I love The Kid to pieces, I’m happy to have a day away from him!
I’m going to see the Pixies the Saturday after Thanksgiving! I AM SO PSYCHED!!! Pixies fans in Boston have been counting down the seconds until the tickets went on sale (sept. 12). Months ago I made tentative plans with Davey from 4 Seasons and Athena to go. Of course, Davey isn’t talking to me anymore, and Athena made it abundantly clear that nothing is as important as her boyfriend, and thus she was just going to get tickets for the two of them since she didn’t have the cash to pay up front to get tickets altogether or something. Damn I hate that. It really pisses me off when friends acquire significant others and then ignore you until there’s drama in their relationships and they need a shoulder to cry on. Well screw you all! I’m going by myself, I will have fun, and everyone else can suck it! Did I mention that I AM SO FREAKING EXCITED?!?! I probably did. I haven’t seen the Pixies since the last time they came around, which was in 2005, I think. I think I heard thay they’re going to do the entire “Doolittle” album in honor of its 20th anniversary. ROCK ON!!!!!
I did a lot of stuff this week! It’s kind of amazing, I had a 4-day run of getting out of the house and doing stuff. Thursday night I went to see !!!, which was totally awesome x 1,000,000,000.
Friday I went with Patty to see Zach Galifianakis at UMass Lowell. We got there way early and stood in line with all the students; we were around the oldest people in the crowd by at least 15 years. However, there was one lady in her 40s who was also there, we knew because ZG went into the crowd and “interviewed” people and then picked on them. We sat next to this one beefy meathead who kept yelling things out before the show and trying to get everyone to do the “Mighty Ducks Quack” where everyone shouts “Quack. Quack. Quack” in unison while clapping or something. He didn’t have much luck recruiting people, but he did sure try. Everything he said he said loudly in that “PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” tone of voice that was the equivalent of amp feedback to my ears– they literally buzzed every time the dude opened his mouth. I was both horrified and amused. There was a couple ahead of me who made out the whole time. When they weren’t making out, the buck-toothed girl chewed gum loudly and cooed at her somewhat jocky dude. Ah college students. I’m so glad I’m not one of them. I ride my bike through Harvard every day and see students lounging under trees on the grassy park with their laptops probably reading the notes someone copied for them from the lecture they were too high to go to… and I think to myself, how it might be nice to be one… then reality hits me and I am so freaking glad I never have to write another expository essay again! I’m glad I don’t have to take Freshman English again (I had to take it 4 times total, since each school I transferred to didn’t accept any other school’s English requirement)! I’m glad I don’t have to eat in a dining hall (although the different colors of ambrosia salad every day at SUNY Oswego were kind of nice), work a crappy work-study job, and most of all be in any more debt!
So anyway, back to Zach G. He’s hilarious. Of course, I can’t remember anything particularly funny he said off the top of my head. Here’s a performance he did, he did some of the same jokes on Friday:
After the show, Patty and I ate dinner at this Asian place in Lowell and I had the most awesomest crab rangoons EVER! The rest of the food was awesome too, and they had a tv going where they were showing some kind of reality talent show in Vietnamese. We were the only people in the place. All in all, it was a pretty fun evening.
Saturday I went apple picking with Laura, Jack & Nathan, Tanya, Jess & John, and Patricia and Barney and their two kids Wesley and Penelope. Apparently I’ve been playing Scrabble with Patricia (Terrence sets up 3-player games) for months, but had no idea it was her!
Yesterday I went to Little Bitch’s place in Clinton and we ate burgers and chips and drank beer (yes! He drinks beer again!) and watched movies. We saw “Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist” which was kind of cute as well as “Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves” which is always a good bad movie. It was fun just chilling. I haven’t chilled and watched movies & drank beer with buddies in a long time. Plus, he has an adorable kitten which I spent a lot of time molesting.
Today was a day off and I did pretty much nothing except bake. I should probably clean stuff or do something productive.
Terrence had been on vacation in California for a week or so and now was back, so to celebrate Gay Rob & I did what we do best and went to his house to drink on his porch. Now lately I haven’t been drinking very much and am a lightweight. It doesn’t take many rum & cokes to get me a little toasted… and we were discussing I don’t know what when Rob said, “will somebody tell me why we don’t have any coke or ice?” Normally I would realize that this is because we’re drinking cuba libres and are out of coca cola, the active ingredient and also that when I went to the ice tray in the fridge, all of them were filled with very un-frozen water. However, I thought Rob was talking about cocaine and ice (back in the recesses of my mind I recalled this was a drug term for something or other) so I mentioned how I had some ecstasy back home. Rob and I then made a plan to take it the following day after I finished watering the plants at Harvard Business School.
So the next day arrives and Rob and I decide to take our big drug trip at the Copley mall and environs for entertainment value. We get down there and ingest said narcotic… and nothing really happened at all. I felt slightly dizzy, but that could have been because I was in this gigantic swanky mall and it was hot out. This mall has stores dedicated to Armani and Coach and other things that even if I could afford them would never buy because they just are so immediately enabling of conspicuous consumerism they just crack me up. Anyway, the drug trip was a big disappointment, though we had fun walking around amd making fun of stuff.
After that Rob decides we should go to Fritz, this gay sports bar (!) where he hangs out. It was kind of funny– there were big screen tvs showing various ball games, but all were being watched by nicely-dressed dudes with perfect hairdos. The whole ambience was kind of surreal. Then we went to The Alley, another gay bar where Rob hangs out– this one is more divey and could easily be an Allston hangout, except for the Shirley Bassey playing on the jukebox.
So that’s my big exciting drug story for the year. My crazy trips have been pretty tame lately– Hey, at least I got out of the house and had fun!