Today is a rough day. I won't sugarcoat it, I'm hungover. Very hungover. Yesterday I made a 40 minute roadtrip down to Brantford to meet my buddy Mike, and see a few local bands. After the little mini-roadtrip, and hours of dicking around in the hicktown that is Brantford, we finally made our way over to the venue.
Jay's Place is an above average venue for local rock shows, especially for a small city. Cafeteria tables and chairs carefully decorated with varying amounts of penned graffiti and "soandso was here" carvings surround the outside of the large hall. With a moderately sized stage on one end, semi-clean washrooms, and a kitchen bar on the other, the place seems to be a quality hangout for the music-scene regulars in the town.
Me and Mike show up and pay our cover as the 2nd band is finishing their set. Oh, I almost forgot another strong point about Jay's; It's convenient location is within drunken pissing distance from the towns largest liquor store. Me and my bud decide that paying 5$ for crappy beer all night is not our style, so in between bands we head out to the previously mentioned booze retailer. After picking up some tallboys containing horrible tasting 10% beer, a few of those premixed energy drinks with vodka, and a mickey of rum, we pay for our purchases and head out. We immediately litter our paper bags, and began the celebration by shotgunning a couple of previously mentioned beers, followed by cracking open a second drink apiece.
Soon we are back at the venue and we face a problem that seems plainly obvious in hindsight, these people aren't just going to let us walk in with our "cheap" alcohol. Mike being the sneaky motherfucker that he is decides we're going to shove these newly purchased, aluminum canisters of courage, down our pants.
2 hours later...
After a second, increasingly more stumbly, trip to the liquor store I'm stashing more alcoholic beverages into my campus crew denims and trying to remember why.
1 hour after that...
Mikey with a little wingman help from me talks to a cute girl and her even cuter friend and gets them to invite us to a party going on at some just out of college kids house later that night. Now I think I have to mention that this little pickup happened with 2 tallboys apiece hiding in various parts of our clothing. We stick around, see a few good bands(www.myspace.com/slowmotionvictory), and decide to head down to the party. Somehow, we ended up in front of the party house way before the girls that invited us to come showed up, even though they drove and we walked. As we are on our way towards the door, a cab pulls up beside us and our inviters finally arrive, enthusiastically dragging/pulling our arms and our connected bodies into the house...
Plainly speaking, I've been to a lot of parties. Working as a DJ, as well as being an average teenager has given me the privilege to walk in on a variety of bashes. I've been to weddings, bar mitzfahs, bat mitzfahs, birthday parties ranging from 2-55, costume parties, Halloween parties, costume wedding receptions, corporate parties, government parties, foam parties(well one), house parties, hall parties, hotel parties, parties I've thrown, parties I've helped throw, parties where stuff got trashed, parties where people hooked up, parties where nothing happened, karaoke parties, parties at offices, parties in dorms, college parties, rookie parties, high school parties, post-prom parties, post-grad parties, parties in Montreal, parties in about a million places in the Caribbean, club parties, club events, even parties where pets were the guests of honour. Needless to say I've been to my share of jams, but this night, I added a new one to my repertoire. the post-college party.
The post college party is unlike any other. The population of these shindigs consists of a healthy mix of actual college students, people who have graduated and are working, and people still living off their college loans while they decide whether or not to go back to school and spend more borrowed money on another degree. These multi-layered personalities combine to produce one of the weirdest atmospheres in party mingling history.
Kanye and euro blast out of a half decent stereo located in a living room that contains an array of objects such as; a piano, a record player, and a stacked bookshelf, all owned by the twenty-something owner of the house. The kitchen features party classics such as flip-cup, and beer pong but everyone is unnervingly good at the games. The countertop is covered in the usual mid-party garbage layer, but there's a section in the corner filled with every chaser ever imagined. A rainbow of 2 litre pop bottles and juice for any 2 part drink in the world takes up a good 2 metres of the counter space. These people are experienced.
Finally, easily the strangest part of the post college party is the conversations that occur. The usual "IT'S MY BIRTHDAY" girly scream echoed from the other side of the room I was in and I deemed it appropriate to ask the semi-hot girl how old she was, using the "I know your never supposed to ask a lady this..." line. She responded with the classic "How old do I look?" retort. Honestly, I'd say around 29, but I lie and tell her 21. She happily squeals "I love this guy! I'm actually 26". I notice a slight wrinkle forming on her cheek as she smiles at me flirtingly and It doesn't dissapear after the grin. I head over to the little drink mixing buffet and make myself a stiff one, play a few games of flip-cup, and drunkenly ponder about the cougar in training who's turning 26 for the 3rd time.
Some more number of hours later...
I'm in the bathroom, pants around my ankles grade school style, taking a leak into a heating vent. After I finish relieving myself, I turn around and flush the unused toilet. I wash my hands and exit as if what I did was perfectly normal. The funny thing is, to me, on that night, it was the usual thing to do. This is all I remember before waking up at Mikes house and painfully driving home at 10am the next morning.
Mikey,that was a primo night dude.
I haven't done a snippet in awhile so here's a conversation that happened at a local McDonald's that my close friend Ian works at.
Emma: ...Yeah, so me and Ian were really close about 4 months ago until he fucked it up by saying stupid stuff.
Mcdicks Employee: Oooo! Close eh? Did you guys have sex?
Emma: Nah, but he could have railed me pretty hard if he didn't fuck it up.
Emma: You hear that Ian, you prolly' could have railed me pretty hard if you didn't fuck it up.
Ian: Damn.
Employee: Anyway, I hear you and Dave from kitchen are going out now, does he know about the possible railing?
Emma: No, Maybe I should tell him before someone else does, (Yells) HEY DAVE! Just if you didn't know, Ian could have railed me hard few months back but he fucked it up.
Dave: Umm, Okay I guess.
Ian: Fuck my life.
Jay's Place is an above average venue for local rock shows, especially for a small city. Cafeteria tables and chairs carefully decorated with varying amounts of penned graffiti and "soandso was here" carvings surround the outside of the large hall. With a moderately sized stage on one end, semi-clean washrooms, and a kitchen bar on the other, the place seems to be a quality hangout for the music-scene regulars in the town.
Me and Mike show up and pay our cover as the 2nd band is finishing their set. Oh, I almost forgot another strong point about Jay's; It's convenient location is within drunken pissing distance from the towns largest liquor store. Me and my bud decide that paying 5$ for crappy beer all night is not our style, so in between bands we head out to the previously mentioned booze retailer. After picking up some tallboys containing horrible tasting 10% beer, a few of those premixed energy drinks with vodka, and a mickey of rum, we pay for our purchases and head out. We immediately litter our paper bags, and began the celebration by shotgunning a couple of previously mentioned beers, followed by cracking open a second drink apiece.
Soon we are back at the venue and we face a problem that seems plainly obvious in hindsight, these people aren't just going to let us walk in with our "cheap" alcohol. Mike being the sneaky motherfucker that he is decides we're going to shove these newly purchased, aluminum canisters of courage, down our pants.
2 hours later...
After a second, increasingly more stumbly, trip to the liquor store I'm stashing more alcoholic beverages into my campus crew denims and trying to remember why.
1 hour after that...
Mikey with a little wingman help from me talks to a cute girl and her even cuter friend and gets them to invite us to a party going on at some just out of college kids house later that night. Now I think I have to mention that this little pickup happened with 2 tallboys apiece hiding in various parts of our clothing. We stick around, see a few good bands(www.myspace.com/slowmotionvictory), and decide to head down to the party. Somehow, we ended up in front of the party house way before the girls that invited us to come showed up, even though they drove and we walked. As we are on our way towards the door, a cab pulls up beside us and our inviters finally arrive, enthusiastically dragging/pulling our arms and our connected bodies into the house...
Plainly speaking, I've been to a lot of parties. Working as a DJ, as well as being an average teenager has given me the privilege to walk in on a variety of bashes. I've been to weddings, bar mitzfahs, bat mitzfahs, birthday parties ranging from 2-55, costume parties, Halloween parties, costume wedding receptions, corporate parties, government parties, foam parties(well one), house parties, hall parties, hotel parties, parties I've thrown, parties I've helped throw, parties where stuff got trashed, parties where people hooked up, parties where nothing happened, karaoke parties, parties at offices, parties in dorms, college parties, rookie parties, high school parties, post-prom parties, post-grad parties, parties in Montreal, parties in about a million places in the Caribbean, club parties, club events, even parties where pets were the guests of honour. Needless to say I've been to my share of jams, but this night, I added a new one to my repertoire. the post-college party.
The post college party is unlike any other. The population of these shindigs consists of a healthy mix of actual college students, people who have graduated and are working, and people still living off their college loans while they decide whether or not to go back to school and spend more borrowed money on another degree. These multi-layered personalities combine to produce one of the weirdest atmospheres in party mingling history.
Kanye and euro blast out of a half decent stereo located in a living room that contains an array of objects such as; a piano, a record player, and a stacked bookshelf, all owned by the twenty-something owner of the house. The kitchen features party classics such as flip-cup, and beer pong but everyone is unnervingly good at the games. The countertop is covered in the usual mid-party garbage layer, but there's a section in the corner filled with every chaser ever imagined. A rainbow of 2 litre pop bottles and juice for any 2 part drink in the world takes up a good 2 metres of the counter space. These people are experienced.
Finally, easily the strangest part of the post college party is the conversations that occur. The usual "IT'S MY BIRTHDAY" girly scream echoed from the other side of the room I was in and I deemed it appropriate to ask the semi-hot girl how old she was, using the "I know your never supposed to ask a lady this..." line. She responded with the classic "How old do I look?" retort. Honestly, I'd say around 29, but I lie and tell her 21. She happily squeals "I love this guy! I'm actually 26". I notice a slight wrinkle forming on her cheek as she smiles at me flirtingly and It doesn't dissapear after the grin. I head over to the little drink mixing buffet and make myself a stiff one, play a few games of flip-cup, and drunkenly ponder about the cougar in training who's turning 26 for the 3rd time.
Some more number of hours later...
I'm in the bathroom, pants around my ankles grade school style, taking a leak into a heating vent. After I finish relieving myself, I turn around and flush the unused toilet. I wash my hands and exit as if what I did was perfectly normal. The funny thing is, to me, on that night, it was the usual thing to do. This is all I remember before waking up at Mikes house and painfully driving home at 10am the next morning.
Mikey,that was a primo night dude.
I haven't done a snippet in awhile so here's a conversation that happened at a local McDonald's that my close friend Ian works at.
Emma: ...Yeah, so me and Ian were really close about 4 months ago until he fucked it up by saying stupid stuff.
Mcdicks Employee: Oooo! Close eh? Did you guys have sex?
Emma: Nah, but he could have railed me pretty hard if he didn't fuck it up.
Emma: You hear that Ian, you prolly' could have railed me pretty hard if you didn't fuck it up.
Ian: Damn.
Employee: Anyway, I hear you and Dave from kitchen are going out now, does he know about the possible railing?
Emma: No, Maybe I should tell him before someone else does, (Yells) HEY DAVE! Just if you didn't know, Ian could have railed me hard few months back but he fucked it up.
Dave: Umm, Okay I guess.
Ian: Fuck my life.
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