So when you come here you often see a recorded history of my winning losing battle with canned beer, bottled beer, and beer on tap. But these tales of my slow suicide by suds almost always occur in the evening which begs the question: what do I do in the day? I had to ask myself this as well. The fishing lifestyle has afforded me a wealth of free time and freedom from The Man and his 9am to 5pm bullschmitt. So what do I do while the sun is up but not out?
I really only do one thing consistently: listen to a radio show.
Seriously. Looking back at my two months chillin' in my adopted city I really did one thing above all others which is tuning in to 99.9FM KISW's The Men's Room. This four hour program has been my constant companion from 2pm to 6pm Monday thru Friday. Ironically I listen to the on-line stream since I don't have a radio in here at Camp Snowbird.
And it isn't a sports talk show but it does remind me quite a bit of the golden era of Jock of the Rock. Imagine the Big Carrot, Wolfboy, Pizza Chris and I talking even less about sports for three and half more hours and could get away with saying bitch and ass within local standards of decency. In other words it is like JOTR at 1:01pm when the mics are turned off.
At 5pm they dedicate a shot of tequila to some poor soul who f-worded up and even have a beer named after the program by a local brewery. I thought our schmitt didn't stink when Millstein shelled out cash to underwrite our show but until I see a Jock of the Rock Boch my life will be incomplete.
I really only do one thing consistently: listen to a radio show.
Seriously. Looking back at my two months chillin' in my adopted city I really did one thing above all others which is tuning in to 99.9FM KISW's The Men's Room. This four hour program has been my constant companion from 2pm to 6pm Monday thru Friday. Ironically I listen to the on-line stream since I don't have a radio in here at Camp Snowbird.
And it isn't a sports talk show but it does remind me quite a bit of the golden era of Jock of the Rock. Imagine the Big Carrot, Wolfboy, Pizza Chris and I talking even less about sports for three and half more hours and could get away with saying bitch and ass within local standards of decency. In other words it is like JOTR at 1:01pm when the mics are turned off.
At 5pm they dedicate a shot of tequila to some poor soul who f-worded up and even have a beer named after the program by a local brewery. I thought our schmitt didn't stink when Millstein shelled out cash to underwrite our show but until I see a Jock of the Rock Boch my life will be incomplete.
But not only do these dudes have alcohol practically thrown at them but they also have a legion of their own "cheerleaders" in the form of the KISW Rock Girls. We live on the Rock and we don't have any Rock Girls? JC and side of rice, C'MON, KMXT, GET WITH IT. Less NPR, more chickage! So Friday they did their annual Rock Girl Gala at the Showbox (it's a nightclub, not a strip joint) where they pick a new group of ladies to represent the station for the next 12 month. Although I'd spent the last of my money on a Mr. McGibblets t-shirt I decided last minute to get a ticket to the show and witness history.
Headache gone from Thursday I mailed a birthday package to My Favorite Person In The Whole World from Ballard then went and loaded up at a vegan buffet in the U Districts to prep my body for the incoming abuse and help revitalize from the two nights prior. The place is called Araya's Place and the food is actually really good despite the lack of flesh and the women who work there are veryveryvery lovely. But today they had a dude in the mix which actually made me eat faster.
Went back home and listened to the show for a couple hours before hopping a bus to the skyscrapers. The woman sitting across from me has a funny presence about her like she's out of a movie with some quirky chick who later gets the Cinderella treatment. Or she's off her meds. It's rush hour and the bus has come to a standstill behind three more buses near Pike so I get off and walk to Bernard's for a kickarse double Rum and Coke (had one at the house before I left as well). There's about 15 people in there but I'm the only one at the bar. The blonde bartender gets my drink. Another lady comes in and the bartender shows her the engagement ring she got on Tuesday like it's a good thing. I think if you get divorced you should have to cut that finger off so you are really serious about the contract you are getting into and The Shane Company can only bend you over once per existence. If you get married again you have to eat the finger that was removed. That's right, I'm one sick puppy today. Bring it.
After a shot of Crown I tip her extra well for her bad fortune and head down the hill with a perfect buzz. Practically giddy. A homeless guy is dancing with his iPod and earbuds in his hands then throws it to the ground and starts violently stomping on it and I'm laughing from a safe distance. Really should have whipped out a camera as I had two of them on me. But I'm in a rush to get to Dream Girls (for any potential employers reading up on me Dream Girls is a RC car hobby shop) and catch some performances before the concert. But I go by the Ebbets Field classic baseball clothing company store and go in to see if the guy Scott from the Comet night is there. He was and immediately we go back to the conversation about Fans' Rights and whether or not I and others should renew our tickets in the face of the lockout. I spy a classic Rainiers hat but at $35 I don't think I'll see one on my head til the salmon are all rotting in the Buskin River plus its Wasilla red so that would hard for me to wear. Never say never.
Down Occidental and over to 1st I walk by Dream Girls and to the Showbox to see if I can get my tickets. One for me and one for Chef Boy who is coming later. There is a lady in front of me in a 'Merican Flag Seahawks logo tee I've never seen before. Her daughter, Desire, is a potential Rock Girl and instructs me to yell for her. I can probably do that.
The alcoholic side of the force has subdued the pervert side so I've decided I want another drink. I cross the street to a spot I've never been to in all my pregame years called the Hooverville Bar. The end of the bar near the door is exceptionally high as if it was made just for Shawn Kemp and Big Smooth. What was his real name? I end up getting another Rum and Coke and talking to a biker and then the couple next to me. The guy claims to be a Bronco fan but then says he likes the Raiders too and I say that's like saying you are a Republican and a Democrat. He doesn't seem to like my logic but his wife does and more. Then he rattles off three or four baseball teams he likes while his woman is gazing at me. I know. I'm sexy as hell. Don't hate on the 39 year old Kodiak boy cuz El Sandinista is mad yummy....to women in there fifties.
I see the bartender in the red hat pour a Crown and Coke that could get Thor wasted and tell my bartender I want one like that. Mistake. She tells me I can go down there and get one from him if that's the deal and walks away. I go thru all the arse kissing gears and finally in sixth she serves me again but now I've lost my seat to a pair of hot-n-trashy things who remind me of Windex back home. I don't think she reads this and that wasn't an insult. I stand next to my old seat and try making conversation but they're not into old and creepy I guess until a guy leaves his wallet on the bar and I give the guy a hard time about being so trusting. They smile. They leave.
I bunch of guys take the corner of the bar and order Irish Car Bombs. I say those look great and dude orders one for me. Maybe I'm man yummy too or maybe I'm just in the right place at the right time but either way a free drink is a free drink is a free drink. I end up talking to a few more people I can't recall very well now except that they talked back and then Frogger my way across 1st to the ShowDo.
For a couple years this was the pregame spot for the posse before the Fan Van was created and they had strippers on stage parading around the venue. The guys who came out of here were no doubt the loudest of the loud from kickoff to final gun. I go past the Harley display and chat with a booth (accidentally hit Y and not H there) worker selling posters and station swag before getting near the stage. BJ Shea is going on about something. Never really listen to his show much because I'm in bed but even when I'm up he's not as entertaining or funny like Miles and Thrill's program. Comes across a tad mad and that's really not how I want to start in the AM. I get a 24 oz can of Budweiser for $8...or was it $7 and start filming the gallery of girls on stage for you my unloyal and at best occasional readers. They are much better looking that I had anticipated and put the fun back into completely objectifying women for no justifiable reason. I swap between my two video camera. One has good sound and one has a zoom.
I get a text that Chef Boy can't make it but Brother J has stepped up to take his place. Awesome! I go back to the will call and make the name change. The 24 oz beer gets warm and hard to finish so obviously I'm not trying hard enough. I have some water before getting a real beer on tap but once again what it was is kinda fuzzy.
There is a LOT of girls there who aren't in the show and pretty fine in their own right. I somehow end up talking to a guy wearing a Toyota hat and General Lee 01 t-shirt. I think General Lee rolled in his grave but dude worked for Toyota. He told me how little he got paid and how much he worked. Kind of pissed me off how little he was making and I hope he finds a better job someday as Toyota doesn't deserve him. But I'm not meeting any human females.
Now I have nothing against any of the bands but I really didn't pay much attention to them. Even Hinder. BUT GIRL YOU MAKE IT HARD TO BE FAITHFUL.... It was all about Round Two of the "competition". They have all of them on stage at once for added boing. I yell extra loud for Desire. After further review I'd say 37 of the 40 could have been crowned and the other three could be shipped to Kodiak and still never have to buy a drink so long as they tread on island soil. Maybe Jock of the Rock could have the "losers".
Brother J shows up and he hands me a Rolling Rock. We move up to the top bar. He's actually the one who turned me on the Men's Room years ago. We end up at a table on the far end and talk with some people. The 6pm-10pm DJ, Jolene, stopped for a picture with J. Then ended up talking to some people at another table who were in the opening band The New Originals. The lead singer is really friendly and then introduces us to Thee Ted Smith (not a typo). I'd sent him a clip from Catchcon last week after he'd mentioned on the air he'd attended and he even wrote back so I was able to say I was the one who sent him the video. He wasn't even star struck to meet me. Brother J gets another picture (I only want a picture with John Clayton and/or Arianny Celeste who for some reason didn't show up) and I talk with Ben the Psycho Muppet who looks like he needs some water. Now. These two have the perfect level of celebrity. Cult style. They can go most places and not be bothered I bet but now and then they get to feel the love from the listeners. They aren't going to need body guards anytime soon but if they did...well they have Rock Girls for that. A surge of jealously just went down my crooked spine. But I have YukonDewMe aka The Voice and they don't.
The place has really emptied out and soon we depart for Wallingford with a burger stop. I get two Dick's Deluxe and a fry (I can play that game too, Timmy Lincecum) before getting dropped off and butchering the English language on Facebook more than I do here. I consider the evening a complete success and hope I didn't overdue it since there is an 85% chance Pure Evil is coming up from Oregon for Saturday.
Headache gone from Thursday I mailed a birthday package to My Favorite Person In The Whole World from Ballard then went and loaded up at a vegan buffet in the U Districts to prep my body for the incoming abuse and help revitalize from the two nights prior. The place is called Araya's Place and the food is actually really good despite the lack of flesh and the women who work there are veryveryvery lovely. But today they had a dude in the mix which actually made me eat faster.
Went back home and listened to the show for a couple hours before hopping a bus to the skyscrapers. The woman sitting across from me has a funny presence about her like she's out of a movie with some quirky chick who later gets the Cinderella treatment. Or she's off her meds. It's rush hour and the bus has come to a standstill behind three more buses near Pike so I get off and walk to Bernard's for a kickarse double Rum and Coke (had one at the house before I left as well). There's about 15 people in there but I'm the only one at the bar. The blonde bartender gets my drink. Another lady comes in and the bartender shows her the engagement ring she got on Tuesday like it's a good thing. I think if you get divorced you should have to cut that finger off so you are really serious about the contract you are getting into and The Shane Company can only bend you over once per existence. If you get married again you have to eat the finger that was removed. That's right, I'm one sick puppy today. Bring it.
After a shot of Crown I tip her extra well for her bad fortune and head down the hill with a perfect buzz. Practically giddy. A homeless guy is dancing with his iPod and earbuds in his hands then throws it to the ground and starts violently stomping on it and I'm laughing from a safe distance. Really should have whipped out a camera as I had two of them on me. But I'm in a rush to get to Dream Girls (for any potential employers reading up on me Dream Girls is a RC car hobby shop) and catch some performances before the concert. But I go by the Ebbets Field classic baseball clothing company store and go in to see if the guy Scott from the Comet night is there. He was and immediately we go back to the conversation about Fans' Rights and whether or not I and others should renew our tickets in the face of the lockout. I spy a classic Rainiers hat but at $35 I don't think I'll see one on my head til the salmon are all rotting in the Buskin River plus its Wasilla red so that would hard for me to wear. Never say never.
Down Occidental and over to 1st I walk by Dream Girls and to the Showbox to see if I can get my tickets. One for me and one for Chef Boy who is coming later. There is a lady in front of me in a 'Merican Flag Seahawks logo tee I've never seen before. Her daughter, Desire, is a potential Rock Girl and instructs me to yell for her. I can probably do that.
The alcoholic side of the force has subdued the pervert side so I've decided I want another drink. I cross the street to a spot I've never been to in all my pregame years called the Hooverville Bar. The end of the bar near the door is exceptionally high as if it was made just for Shawn Kemp and Big Smooth. What was his real name? I end up getting another Rum and Coke and talking to a biker and then the couple next to me. The guy claims to be a Bronco fan but then says he likes the Raiders too and I say that's like saying you are a Republican and a Democrat. He doesn't seem to like my logic but his wife does and more. Then he rattles off three or four baseball teams he likes while his woman is gazing at me. I know. I'm sexy as hell. Don't hate on the 39 year old Kodiak boy cuz El Sandinista is mad yummy....to women in there fifties.
I see the bartender in the red hat pour a Crown and Coke that could get Thor wasted and tell my bartender I want one like that. Mistake. She tells me I can go down there and get one from him if that's the deal and walks away. I go thru all the arse kissing gears and finally in sixth she serves me again but now I've lost my seat to a pair of hot-n-trashy things who remind me of Windex back home. I don't think she reads this and that wasn't an insult. I stand next to my old seat and try making conversation but they're not into old and creepy I guess until a guy leaves his wallet on the bar and I give the guy a hard time about being so trusting. They smile. They leave.
I bunch of guys take the corner of the bar and order Irish Car Bombs. I say those look great and dude orders one for me. Maybe I'm man yummy too or maybe I'm just in the right place at the right time but either way a free drink is a free drink is a free drink. I end up talking to a few more people I can't recall very well now except that they talked back and then Frogger my way across 1st to the ShowDo.
For a couple years this was the pregame spot for the posse before the Fan Van was created and they had strippers on stage parading around the venue. The guys who came out of here were no doubt the loudest of the loud from kickoff to final gun. I go past the Harley display and chat with a booth (accidentally hit Y and not H there) worker selling posters and station swag before getting near the stage. BJ Shea is going on about something. Never really listen to his show much because I'm in bed but even when I'm up he's not as entertaining or funny like Miles and Thrill's program. Comes across a tad mad and that's really not how I want to start in the AM. I get a 24 oz can of Budweiser for $8...or was it $7 and start filming the gallery of girls on stage for you my unloyal and at best occasional readers. They are much better looking that I had anticipated and put the fun back into completely objectifying women for no justifiable reason. I swap between my two video camera. One has good sound and one has a zoom.
I get a text that Chef Boy can't make it but Brother J has stepped up to take his place. Awesome! I go back to the will call and make the name change. The 24 oz beer gets warm and hard to finish so obviously I'm not trying hard enough. I have some water before getting a real beer on tap but once again what it was is kinda fuzzy.
There is a LOT of girls there who aren't in the show and pretty fine in their own right. I somehow end up talking to a guy wearing a Toyota hat and General Lee 01 t-shirt. I think General Lee rolled in his grave but dude worked for Toyota. He told me how little he got paid and how much he worked. Kind of pissed me off how little he was making and I hope he finds a better job someday as Toyota doesn't deserve him. But I'm not meeting any human females.
Now I have nothing against any of the bands but I really didn't pay much attention to them. Even Hinder. BUT GIRL YOU MAKE IT HARD TO BE FAITHFUL.... It was all about Round Two of the "competition". They have all of them on stage at once for added boing. I yell extra loud for Desire. After further review I'd say 37 of the 40 could have been crowned and the other three could be shipped to Kodiak and still never have to buy a drink so long as they tread on island soil. Maybe Jock of the Rock could have the "losers".
Brother J shows up and he hands me a Rolling Rock. We move up to the top bar. He's actually the one who turned me on the Men's Room years ago. We end up at a table on the far end and talk with some people. The 6pm-10pm DJ, Jolene, stopped for a picture with J. Then ended up talking to some people at another table who were in the opening band The New Originals. The lead singer is really friendly and then introduces us to Thee Ted Smith (not a typo). I'd sent him a clip from Catchcon last week after he'd mentioned on the air he'd attended and he even wrote back so I was able to say I was the one who sent him the video. He wasn't even star struck to meet me. Brother J gets another picture (I only want a picture with John Clayton and/or Arianny Celeste who for some reason didn't show up) and I talk with Ben the Psycho Muppet who looks like he needs some water. Now. These two have the perfect level of celebrity. Cult style. They can go most places and not be bothered I bet but now and then they get to feel the love from the listeners. They aren't going to need body guards anytime soon but if they did...well they have Rock Girls for that. A surge of jealously just went down my crooked spine. But I have YukonDewMe aka The Voice and they don't.
The place has really emptied out and soon we depart for Wallingford with a burger stop. I get two Dick's Deluxe and a fry (I can play that game too, Timmy Lincecum) before getting dropped off and butchering the English language on Facebook more than I do here. I consider the evening a complete success and hope I didn't overdue it since there is an 85% chance Pure Evil is coming up from Oregon for Saturday.
