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1 Angry Calzone & 30,000 Spastic Sox Fans

2004-07-14 - 9:52 a.m.

Drink I'm Yearning For The Most: Absinthe

Listening To: Live TH bootleg

Quote: "Maybe a My Little Pony joke would be more your speed?" - Zach, to Liz

Sick.

Sick sick sick sick sick.

That is me. It's my own fault. If I go more than 4 days in a row without proper sleep, my body revolts and makes me sicker than the sight of Janet Cochrane in a 2-piece. Ewwwwwww.

But yeah. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. It's not so bad I guess. It's only affecting my eyes, throat, nose, head, and lungs. So you know, it could be worse. I suppose it could be some sort of airborne flesh-eating disease. I guess that'd be worse. I suppose getting into hi-jinx this last weekend is what started this downward spiral. What hi-jinx would those be Zach? Glad you asked.

Saturday, after a rather short shift at the G., I met Ben at Attar (Civil Engineers to the Stars!) and we took his new shiny candy apple red Truck to Boston. ["It's METALLIC RED!" - Ben] Yes, yes. Of course it is. Technically, we went to Milton, Mass. Which is where Kelly and Roy live. And have lived for a while. And it was my first time visiting! For shame! Seriously, for shame, because it's a really nice place. I don't care much about seeing Kelly and Roy, but I'd go back to see their place again! The bathroom cabinets had novelty handles! Shaped like a toothbrush and toothpaste! What a world we live in. Anyway, when Ben and I finally showed up there (after what seemed like 8 hours of traffic on the bridge) we trudged upstairs, Dick Tracy pillow in tow of course, and started drinking probably 30 seconds later.

We sat out on the deck and it was a beautiful day and it was then that our hero knew his pale, ghostly, Curtis-esque skin would be tanner when this day was done. I should point out that Roy, whose birthday was Sunday (even though I thought it was Saturday) was in Maine for the weekend. That ol' Roy. Oh well. Who was there was Hostess (cupcake) of the Weekend Kelly, private concubine of said Hostess - Jim, not-so-freshly back from Hawaii, but more freshly back from Ireland Liz (who I may add didn't look anymore Polynesian or Blarney since I last saw her). And rounding out this little Milton Old Home Day was Jess, Liz's friend from Boothbay, Jess. We had met Jess last year when we went to Boothbay for Liz's "I'm moving to Hawaii but will probably see you again in a year or so, give or take a week, in Milton, Mass. Party!" Ok, so the party title wasn't that prescient. But anyway, it didn't take long for us to be playing the dice/chip game LCR (yes, the dreaded LCR we sell at the G) and I'll be damned if I didn't enjoy playing it. The fact that we made it a drinking game probably was the reason why. Hey, anything to avoid playing 3-Man with these girls and I was happy.

Did I mention that I was sick and it feels like the house is spinning? Granted, Kenichi is in the basement using his cosmic tricycle to turn the house slowly on its axis, but I hardly think that has anything to do with it. Sigh.

So we were in Milton and oh how we were drinking. I was sticking to the blueberry beer. Because, you know, that ALWAYS works out for me in the end. I'd link to the entry where I've rued the day(s) I've messed with blueberry beer, but there's too many I'd have to link. There was also Molson Canadian there too, presumably to make Jim and Liz feel more at home and draw attention to the maple leaves they had scrawled into their foreheads. Oh you crazy Canucks! So you know, sitting in the sun, playing drinking games, eating cheeseburgers, and drinking Canadian and blueberry beer - that won't get you drunk. At all. Except it will.

Aww, that's so cute. They're focusing more on a big red leaf than their actual product. Poor Canada. No one has the heart to tell them that's actually a Poison Sumac leaf, not a Maple

Finally, we departed to Fenway Park for the Red Sox game. With promises to meet the infamous "Jen" from Ireland. Which isn't to say she's from Ireland, but that she went with Tim, Jackie, Ben, and Liz on the trip. She lives in Boston and is Laura's old roommate. People, this website name is still available! Let's get on this! We were only 5 minutes late for the start of the game and it was already 3 - 0 Boston when we got there. Yeah, it was gonna be that kind of game. No complaints here. As long as I got to see Johnny (check), have Johnny continue his hit streak (check), have Johnny continue his multi-hit in a game streak (check), have Johnny procure me an early copy of NewsRadio Season 1 on DVD ( . . . uncheck - sigh). We were in the bleachers, and let me tell you people, for those of you who have never seen a Sox game from the bleachers (and as inexplicable as that may sound for some of you, it's true that there's those out there that haven't) you just haven't seen a Sox game until you do. I mean, I like the box seats as much as the next guy, but nothing defies logic like the Fenway Park bleachers. Example: We're in the middle of the game and some cops start to file up the section a few rows to the left of us. Some kid is getting taken out for excessive behavoir or public nudity or some such something. Kid's CLEARLY A Sox fan - Sox hat, Sox shirt. Why do I feel the need to point this out? I mean chances are, he's a Sox fan right? Right. Except, as he gets led away everyone starts chanting "YANKEES SUCK! YANKEES SUCK!" Now I, despite the ill-gotten Yankees poster that hangs in the living room as I type this, believe the Yankees Suck as well. But why are we chanting it at this drunken fellow? I'd like to think it was an isolated incident if it didn't happen AGAIN when the next person got in trouble a few rows behind us. Gotta love the bleachers.

Dr. Melfi says it's unresolved anger issues towards my mother that gets my noggin' all wonky when I pitch!

You also gotta love the Sox. I feared the worst when I found out I'd be going to a game pitched by Lowe. He hasn't exactly been having a "great season". Hell, he hasn't exactly been having a "perfunctory season". But we held out hope. And with Bellhorn's boneheaded play/non-plays in the 2nd inning, it didn't seem like Lowe was gonna grab the W this time around either. But then, oddly enough, the Lowe who has been bitching to the papers that it's "not a problem with his head, but with his arm" actually PROVED he wasn't a head case (this time) and got his head back into it and didn't give up another run. And then the homeruns just kept a-comin' for the Sox. And you just know one was by Johnny. Who had pointed to me when he hit it! Except it didn't come to me, it went to some other less-deserving kid in another part of the bleachers. I don't care if he was a legless orphan on fire, that ball was meant for me! ME!

Yes, I know this pic is from the A's series and not the Rangers, but you just can't waste a prize-winning photo finsh Damon picture like this

God, all these Sox pictures, what is this, Justin's blog? Anyway, the Sox lit up the Rangers and a fun time was had by all. I even finally met Jen. I didn't get a chance to really talk to her much since her, Liz, Jess and Ben sat in the row behind Kelly, Jim and me. And when we went to the bar after the game, I don't think I really talked to her much there either. Though I might have, I don't really recall. I know for a fact I didn't have any run-ins with any of Rachel's ex-boyfriends, which, you know, has been known to happen after drunken Red Sox games. And I know that when we were on our way back to the T, I asked what happened to Jen and they said she already left to go home. So yeah, my first meet-up with the "You're gonna love her, she's the best thing since sliced bread got sliced!" Jen was slightly deflated. But that wasn't her fault. Perhaps the 2nd time is the charm.

I can tell you what IS the charm though. Let me slightly rewind to about the 3rd inning of the game: I'm walking back up the bleachers with two full cups of beer (the limit) and paying attention to the beer not spilling and not the people in the bleachers. Although, that still doesn't stop me from whipping around and watching the field at the slightest noise (good or ill) and spilling beer on my feet - every. single. time. Anyway, I'm balancing my way up the cement steps and I could swear I hear someone yell, "MONEY!" Now, to anyone outside the G., this might not seem that weird. Well, I mean, anyone would think it's weird to just hear someone yell, "MONEY!" It's like being at an event and someone just yelling, "Thumb tacks!" or "Heat lamp!" But considering that one devout soul feels the need to call me "Money" and/or "Z-Money" (often denoted as just "Z-$") gave me slight pause. And then I hear it again, louder this time, "Hey, MONEY!" There is no way in hell I think, and then . . . "Z-MONEY!!!" I spin around (spilling beer on my feet) and sure enough, it's Bryan Rogers, the B Rog himself, a refugee from the G this summer. I just stare at him and keep walking. But I had more than enough time to talk to him on the 18 more beer runs I'd make throughout the game. When I got back to my seat, Kelly said, "Was that kid down there saying something to you?" "No." I quickly answered, loathe to go into why someone in the lower bleachers just yelled out, "MONEY!" and why I knew that meant someone was trying to get my attention. Well, I guess I was loathe to explain it then. Now it's all out there.

The next morning, after having lucid dreams of trying in vain to make Johnny Damon christmas cards with glitter and glue, I woke up in Roy's bed (tres scandale!) sans Roy (ne tres scandale pas!) and greenlit a breakfast sandwich coming my way while Kelly, Jim, Liz and Ben went to go get food. Jess and I stayed behind since we are apparently not the morning go-getters that these freaks are. Then we watched Spider-Man On Demand which only fevered my pitch even more to go see Spider-Man 2 again - for the third time. Besides, Ben needs to see it! Like I need an excuse though. Then we decided the best way to cure our hangover from the night before and to best prepare for the Ben Folds/Guster/Rufus Wainright concert was to sit in the sun and play drinking games. We're nothing if not routine. I'll give us that. Jess left before we started drinking again, smart girl, and Liz, Ben and I taught Kelly and Jim how to play Estimation. Which, as usual, turned into a game of "How I can collude with other to try to stop Ben from winning." This went on for several hours. We ordered food. I got a calzone. I ate the whole thing. And then I said, "I can't believe I ate the whole thing!" And then Ben said, "I can." And that calzone is STILL sitting there laughing at me. It was a good calzone, but now it's angry. And it wants out. And I think it's poisoning me from the inside. It was during this weekend of drinking games that Kelly came out with one of the better quote I've probably ever heard in my LIFE. It was in reference to the game we were playing, but I think it could really come in to play at any time in the course of anyone's daily life. Ready? "I hate Ben Walden because he sucks." Isn't that nice? Compact? Speaks for the world at large?

Liz left to go back to Boothbay and Ben and I left for the Fleet Pavilion. I felt like someone had shit a concrete unicorn in my brain, so I was a little out-of-sorts. Drinking straight for 24 hours, only pausing long enough to sleep and eat caramel apples will do that to you. We met Andrea, Phil, Todd, Rex, & Kate at a bar named Jimbo's right next to the Pavilion. Aww. I miss Jimbo. Anyway, after a quick few drinks there we met the fantabulous Frederick and went in to the show. I think Fred was scared of my goatee at first (can you blame him?) but he soon learned to trust it. If anything, I think he likes it more than he likes me (can you blame him?). Rufus came on first, which was for the best, because, even though I liked him, pacing wise, if he went last we all would have killed ourselves at the end of the evening - not because he's bad, far from it, it's just that his dirge like songs would have ground our brains down to mulch. Guster came on second and while good, wasn't drastically different than most of the other Guster shows I've seen. It was significant that seem to refuse to play "Happy Frappy" or "Two Points For Honesty" in concert seemingly out of pure spite to me. I was excited as Becca had tipped me off that Rufus and Ben did a duet on "Careless Whisper"! Hot dog! A Wham! cover! But it did not come to pass. Instead, Guster finished out with a Belle & Sebastian cover with an assist from Ben Folds. It was good. But holy moses on a cracker, the highlight of this show was Ben Folds. His first song was "Mr. Jones (Part 2)" which excited Fred to no end since the first word of the song is "Fred". A point Fred pointed out. With glee. I whispered to him, "If the second song is 'Zak & Sara' then we know he's trying to send us a message." Sure as shit-colored shit, the next song was "Zak & Sara"! Freaky. We figured Ben (Walden) wouldn't get a song since Ben (Folds) doesn't have a "Ben" song (assuming he wasn't going to cover Michael Jackson's "Ben") but we figured they shared the same name, so close enough. End of freakiness, right? WRONG. Later in the set he played, "Kate". He did not ever play "The Continuing Adventures of Bungalow Bill & Todd & Rex" though, so then the freakiness really did end. But oh man, he played WAY more Ben Folds Five songs than I thought he would. Sure, he played new, unreleased stuff as he tends to do, and only one song ("Army" - his 1st of 2 audience participation songs) off of Reinhold Messener, but he must have played at least 6 off of Whatever & Ever, Amen. Including "Steven's Last Night In Town" (sans scary ringing telephone at the end) and "1 Angry Dwarf And 200 Solemn Faces" which I didn't expect at all. And he didn't play "Brick" - which pleased me. He also had a drum-off with the Guster drummer. Which was very exciting to watch. And one of his closers was "Not The Same" with Guster coming back on stage to sing it with him. It was my favorite Guster performance of the night.

Ben's new EP is out at the end of the month. Buy it. It'll make him happy. And a happy Ben is a healthy Ben. (ps - I have no idea what I'm talking about)

And that was that. Now I'm sick and I blame the calzone. And the beer. And the no sleep too. And George "The W. stands for Fuck Face" Bush. But that John Edwards! Man, what a glittery Democratic package we have now! Man, why do I always have to end these things on a glittery package note?

It's been real,

Chi Chai Monchan

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