Fat Tuesday
Wednesday, February 9It wasn’t because it was “Fat Tuesday,” even though some of the drunken voicemails that I left will quote me saying, “Because it’s Fat Tuesday, Fucker!” It was an excuse to interact a little bit. I’ve been so reclusive of late, and there was no better reason to leave the house than to see debauchery. Boobs for beads -- someone deserves knighthood, a holiday, or at least a street named after him [because it had to have been a guy] for that idea.
We went to the Bassa Vita Lounge to see some improvisational comedy [it’s been this kick for me]. Well it was all right -- it was like bad choir, drama club, flag-core rejects, and other people trying to find other alternatives to Ritalin. There were a couple of moments of real comedic genius but a lot of times it’s like watching someone in an embarrassing moment, and then their embarrassment bleeds onto you, and then you feel embarrassed for watching this train accident that they call a career [God, I’m such a hater]. Honestly, the only thing that made the night go by easier was the cute bartender and the Jack and cokes.
We stayed as long as we could, and then we went off to the House of Blues -- as advertised, “We Got Your Fat Tuesday Right Here.” Well, maybe it didn’t say that, but you get the idea. We got inside and it was all right -- it looked like something straight out of the Roxbury with the bad DJ and the fuchsia lights. It was filled with people that looked like they’ve been legally drinking for 8 hours. The other half looked like stragglers from a poser Harley Davidson Gang or fat salesmen lost in Cleveland. It was sad -- not like “Schindler’s List” sad, like “Cool As Ice” sad. We stayed -- then we decided to leave, then we went to another venue called the Spotted Dog -- I’d add a link, but it’s like someone’s basement with a lot of booze and someone’s hot mother serving the drinks. That pretty much sums it up. Some scary white trash drunks, some ugly white girls with black guys [why can’t they tell they’re ugly, those were the saddest white trophies]. It was a place that made me feel pretty. But I digress -- we stayed for a bit and then left, and today I woke up with a wicked hangover.
This is usually where I add my epiphany on social havens, but I’m not. Nights like this make me appreciate my friends a little more, and I feel a bit of regret for not taking advantage of the time that we had together when we were all a little younger and closer. Making strangers and acquaintances into manageable friends -- that’s what we’re doing these days. Bartenders, club bullies, and emotional drunks -- no wonder everybody is switching to coffee these days.