London Town

We hadn't seen Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Parliament, Notting Hill or anything remotely resembling a museum. I did see the Thames and the London Eye; two days before we left, and it was only because I got off the tube early to smoke a cigarette and call Paige to see if she was still in Clapham. I also thought I would head home but changed my mind and decided to stay out for a bit longer. Yesterday Paige and I had made a decision to not go out. Thursday was St. Patrick’s Day; Friday was SF financial district-esc bars followed by a club. We needed a night off.  We went to meet a friend in the early afternoon only to watch the Ireland Rugby game, have one or two pints and head home. This led to meeting another friend for one drink at a pub. Followed by yet another bar, a few Irish men, a huge three room club with smelly carpet and shots of Jager, then at about 2am to the afterhours club, to the sun rising and people getting their morning coffee and going for jogs past the club as we were stumbling out.

I sat on a bench overlooking the Thames wondering why there are no after hours clubs in San Francisco and then coming to the conclusion that it may be for the best. (Still ordering vodka Redbull at 5 in the morning is a good thing, don't get me wrong, but I am afraid I may look like a chewed up wire by the time I'm 35.)  It's 11am and we are not scheduled to keep drinking till about 12. I sat for about ten minutes taking in the view. That was the end of conventional sightseeing of London. Back on the tube! Feeling productive having at least seen something aesthetically pleasing in London during the day, I head back to Clapham to meet Paige and a few friends. It was Sunday. We had been waiting for this for a good year and it didn’t matter that I still had not slept. The Church was our tourist attraction. We didn’t need to see Westminster Abbey we needed to go to an old theater with the seats removed in Clapham Grand.  Now if you have lived with me in the last two years you already know this. I love to dance early in the morning. It's when I am still a little drunk or hung-over, I usually always have a bit of extra energy the morning after a good session. The happy jumping around kind of dancing that usually works best with bands that use abbreviations or acronyms for some reason, Like MGMT or LMFAO. MIA works brilliantly as well. Another thing I love to do after a good session is dress up.  I find it helps with my hangover depression. However unless it’s Halloween I can’t really go "all out" because I would look like a fucking nut job. So I usually have to be very subtle. I may wear funny dark rimmed glasses for example.  One morning I decided to dress punk rock and wore chucks, black skinny jeans, and my Mars Volta tee shirt.  Or I will go super girly with lots of flower print and pink sandals.  So my point is, The Church sounded like my hangover's wet dream.  Basically it’s a club that's only on Sundays and you can dress up, dance, see a magician and a stripper. Read my Review on Yelp of The Church to get idea of the place. I met up with the team and we headed over.  I don’t remember what the cover charge was and it does not matter. I don’t remember how much drinks were only that you have to get three tall cans at a time. It was pretty brilliant and I would suggest it to people in London.  Well I would suggest it if you like places like Coppers in Dublin, Reirdans in Cork, Kells in San Francisco, and pretty much most of the bars on the upper east side.

Sadly The Church closes at four so we moved on.  Paige would have to get her fix of Aussie men making out for her ammusement elsewhere.  Until next time, maybe we will bring costumes. Afterwards we went to a few bars.  The thing to do apparently was go to a bar, The Walkabout, after the Church.  The lad we were with was absolutely adamant about showing us yanks the walkabout.  If I had a drink for every time he said the name of this bar I would almost have as many drinks as I had consumed over the past two days. And that was too much to make any kind of effort to go to the Walkabout. Although now that I think back.... aye forget it... the way we are living there should be no reason to regret anything.  After the bars was it now time to go home? Nope. It was back to one of the lad’s house in Clapham.  We got back to the house more exhausted than drunk.  We had now been out for over 24 hours and we had surpassed that point of being totally pissed. We had officially drunk ourselves sober.  We showered (not together) when we got there.  There is always a method to our madness.  We may be able to drink for long periods of time, but we're not taking massive amounts of shots.  We may be able to stay out for 36 hours but we are still showering and helping ourselves to mouthwash in the bathroom whether we know the owners or not.  After freshening up, Paige and I along with four other Irish lads kept drinking there into the night all the while being entertained by the banter. 

Paige and I woke up on the couch in the morning and thought it was a good time to start home.  We walked to the tube station through the neighborhood remembering how two days ago we went out for that one drink. Remembering how when we got to the club I bought a round of 3 Vodka Redbulls and drank them in the time it took me to find everyone. When I repeated this story one of the boys responded with, "I left you ten minutes ago".  An hour and a half later we made it clear across town on the underground.  Epic. The weekend was epic. The rest of the trip would have to be devoted to lying on the couch and having a nice Italian dinner with outdoor seating.  I was telling the person we were staying with in London how we really have not and probably will not do anything touristy during the day.  He figures he can do stuff like that when he is older.  I fully agree.  When I’m older I will probably really get off on seeing Parliament getting some free walking tour of 18th century London.  What else am I going to do when I’m in my 50s?  I will probably take my family to London and I will need a way to entertain myself and torture my kids.  We will walk along the Thames on the way to the Tate right by where I had sat to give myself a break from the weekend long bender and they will have no idea how awesome I was.  Maybe I will give some hint when we walk by; Implying something that would only slightly let wind that I once sat there sometime between drinking enough vodka to kill a small child and watching a man eat a gold fish followed by a nice young woman who took her clothes off for a room full of dancing drunks.

A Recap

Did ya miss us? Well we missed each other. We are going to start to regularly update this thing. In order to properly do so I am going to recap what’s been going on in each of our lives. It will be a long one but it must be done. I will start with Paige.

In December our Paige made the move to Ireland, she stayed in Mayo, met a lot of Irish mothers, ate a lot of meat, drank a LOT of tea, travelled to Belfast, took a tour from a Nationalist who said he was shitting his pants while we drove through Loyalists areas in fear of being recognized, went to the most over crowded cemetery I have ever seen, saw the Giants Causeway, bussed to Tipperary, had more tea, saw some pikey's, hit on a 18 year old at a club, turned around to find all my friends laughing at me, saw Beth, hitched a ride to Connemara, went to a bar where Irish was the spoken language, drove 30 minutes to a club that looked like high school prom, convinced Beth not to go for the guy with missing teeth, narrowly escaped becoming someone's baby mama, went to Kerry, convinced some footballers I was the Rose of San Francisco, went to Galway got banned from a bar for calling the bouncer a cunt, in Dublin went to Copper's with some friends of friends from Roscommon, ditched them for a boy from Limerick, moved to Cork, got a blow up mattress, bought a lot of clothes, made friends with my housemates who like their drink and probably know the local bookie’s birthday and kids name, went to the dog track,  bet on a dag named Yeah Richie and lost 3Euro, definitely a sign, developed a great impersonation of the Cork accent, went to Killarney for a poker tourney which turned into a 5 day bender with nothing but champagne, became a fan of rugby and Liverpool, developed an unhealthy crush on Jonny Sexton, took a road trip to Clare for a going away party in the smallest bar in Ireland, played housewife, made dinner, cleaned house, developed a nickname and is now only referred to as "the Yank", spent a lot of time hung-over and sick on busses, tackled some daytime sessions, and flew to London.

I stayed in SF for a couple months, ate a lot of pub food, made some great new Sunday drinking buddies, got rid of the Richmond house, quit my job, flew to New York, saw my sister, saw my niece, played a lot of hide and seek, took her to day care, did some Bikram, listened to a lot of Hova, picked the kid up, played more hide and seek, walked the dog, saw SJP and Ferris Bueller, Pollack, Matisse, and Van Gogh, smoked some pot, met some hipsters, met a bud light commercial "star" who took me to a dance party, danced till 6am drinking tall cans of bud light, saw our lovely Canadian singer Jess, drank Patron and talked about San Francisco life and music, woke up fully clothed in the right hotel, wrong room,  flew to Israel, hiked the Negev, floated in the Dead Sea, saw a lot of missiles in a town that was last bombed in November of 2010, hiked Masada at 4am, lived off hummus and hard liquor, falafel or shwarma was my biggest decision, got a lot of propaganda, met a lot of soldiers, heard a lecture from a guy that had dinner with Noam Chompsky last month, they didn’t agree, prayed at the Western Wall, drank Goldstar in Jerusalem, had Lebanese food, slept in a Bedouin tent, had the best sing song ever, sorry Kevin, saw more graves of 19 year olds than I would have liked to, stayed in a kabbutz, had Shabbat with my aunt and watched the news from Japan, heard some more guitar, heard a lot of Jesus jokes, rode a camel, did an epic card trick, said some jokes, kissed an Israeli soldier, but everyone in Isreal has been a soldier and knows how to shoot a gun, did some drugs, stayed out in Tel Aviv dancing until the sun was up in this secular city that is filled with art, energy, music, and truly never sleeps, saw a Rabbit at the flea market, laid on the beach, ate a lot cheese, saw a soccer game, heard war stories filled with more emotion I am used to, heard only a bit of dissent, heard some Sinatra from a guy from LA, had more amazing food, drank absinth, took a sharoot to the train station, got in a haggling fight with my cab driver, ended up by hugging him goodbye, and took a 5 hour Easy Jet flight to London.

Love, Rebecca

Ad for Sunday Drinking Buddy...

I'm leaving the country for a while which leaves my wifey without a drinking partner for an extended amount of time. Therefore I am taking applications for my replacement. Please answer questions below to be considered for this position. We are equal opportunity friends and will not discriminate based on gender, race, or sexual preference. All encouraged to apply!

About your new drinking partner:
She is 25, jewish-ish, and petite (easily fits in a suitcase or kitchen sink). She loves to drink on Sunday's but can be persuaded to go out most nights of the week and Saturday's. Well travelled, bilingual, and has the unique ability to never get a hangover. She has a great sense of humor and could possibly be one of the funniest people I've met.

Benefits:
Constant entertainment.

Requirements:
Must be 21 years of age or older. No drug habits, weed is fine as long as you aren't a lazy pot head. Liver in good working condition (you have one). Must have plenty of funny/embarrassing stories. Having a job where you don't work Monday's is a plus!

Questionnaire:
. Do you have a home? No bums please!

. Do you have any upcoming events/trips/kids that may cause you to miss a Sunday?

. On average how many drinks do you have on a typical night out? Keep in mind we are not your doctors, no need to lie.

. Are you able to drink for 10-12 hours without falling asleep on the bar, crying (this does not include any crying leading up to the sentence “I fucking love you man."), ranting about your ex and how not-crazy YOU are?

. Have your friends ever tried to stage an intervention for you?

. What kind of drunk would YOUR FRIEND'S (not you) say you are?
-Happy drunk
-Violent drunk
-Slutty drunk
-Disappearing drunk

. Do you know what the Craic is and how to have it?

. Have you ever or do you often dance on bars, tables, benches, etc...?

. Would you ever pull a robbery on the guy she is talking too?

. What is your annual income? This may be personal but this is an expensive position and we need to make sure you can afford it.

. Has anybody ever told you that you should have your own reality show?

. Have you ever considered applying for The Amazing Race?

. How do you handle hangovers?

. Are you up on the latest happy hours and places that serve bottomless mimosas?

. What is your favorite beer?

. Do you know any good Jewish jokes?

. Please tell us one of your funniest drinking stories.


If you pass the questionnaire portion of this interview we will call you for an audition at Santacon this Saturday, December 4th. Good luck!!


Disclaimer: This position could result in liver failure, premature aging, and death. Please drink responsibly.

Love, Paige

Craigslist Add.... Love Rebecca

Man Wanted to Make - w4m - 26


My mom jealous. Free dinner included; see below!

The hot mom sleeping with her children’s young hot friends is not, I repeat, not something that only happens on teen comedies and Jerry Springer. Its real… real skanky. In this age of plastic surgery, botox, acai berry oil or some shit, and Demi Moore it has become hard for me to bring my guy friends/love interests/crushes around my 53 (!) year old mother. Since when did my apartment become that cougar’s breeding ground? She stops by as if it was some calm pond filled with thirsty, young, off-guard, little deer that she can just attack with her claws of acrylic when their back is turned. And well people, the worst part is it works. Marvelously. She has more game than Kobe. It doesn’t matter if the ball is closer to me, it will be passed to her because she will get wide open and will score 90% of the time. These “friends” that are sleeping with her jump on the band wagon thinking they will never have the opportunity to sleep with a hot older woman again and they don’t want to miss out on some crazy, never before seen, perfected move that this old bag can teach them.

Why don’t you just tell her not to come over to your apartment you ask? I have to baby-sit my EIGHT-year-old little sister and no matter what I do eventually see her. Wait for it… wait for it…. She is my half sister! Bet you could not guess that. “Here is a picture of my daddy”, I over heard her showing a friend while looking at one of my old yearbooks! Convenient: yes. Trash-a-lash: double yes.

Also, I have a hot guy roommate, with even hotter friends. What am I supposed to tell them? Please don’t go outside and smoke between the hours of 5:30 to 6:30 or some hot brod may come by and try sleep with you. They have all been warned of her, they know the record, but apparently “just say no” is not just a failed anti drug slogan, but a failed anti whore slogan as well. And being the Jewish mother that she is, she will call, once a day, and tell me to meet a man and remind me to clean under the stove and to dry clean my curtains. Then it’s always concluded with the flaunting of some young hot guy she banged like she is hotter than me.

Let me make this clear, she is Not… Not hotter than me. So if you’re so hot why don’t you get some equally hot guy in person to do this rather than look on Craigslist?

A. Due to some unmentionable acts in which I haphazardly walked into last week this process of vindication must be speedy. If not, I may have to tell her that we are going to L.A. for some “anti aging yoga/health retreat” but we will end up on stage with Dr. Phil exposing her trash to the world. This is a last resort, but mom if you are reading this, I will do it, don’t temp me. Don’t you dare tempt me.
B. It can’t be a quick “hello mom, this is John, John this is my mom”. It must be a calculated meeting with a two to three hour time block in which she could see that you clearly want me and nothing but me. I can’t possibly take the cutie that I met at the gym last week to meet my mom. That would be stage four psycho alert and our relationship is not the thing I want to blow.

Now to the good stuff. What’s in it for you, you ask?
A. Dinner will be on my mother. It will be on her credit card, and nothing more, I cannot stress that enough. It will not be an Olive Garden or corner sandwich shop either. She may sound trailer but she does not eat trailer. Have you been dying to go to the Slanted Door??? We can go baby, don’t you worry. Always wanted to try the French Laundry but don’t know when that next promotion will come through so you can finally afford it? We can drive out there no problemo. A free dinner of your choice to hang out with my mom and me for a couple hours is not a bad deal…. By any standards. And speaking of standards, you will not be lowering yours, as you will be all over me and not, I repeat, not looking at my mangy mother.
B. You are welcome to take whatever cash she has in her purse when she goes to the bathroom after she pays the bill. She always goes to the bathroom after she pays in order to peek her head in the kitchen to thank the cooks, but really to check out the chefs and/or sous chefs/busers/waiters, being the skank cougar that she is. She will not accuse us because she is extremely skeptical of any and all kinds of help such as “restaurant people” (mexicans), being the bitch that she is. It will most likely be anywhere from 100 to 300 hundred dollars.


YOU:

MUST BE A GOOD LOOKING CONFIDENT MALE between the ages of 21-35. You don’t have to be straight but must be able to pull off straight. When you came out of the closet, no one was like… “Duh”. When I mean I want to make mom jealous I mean I really want her to wish she were me and second guess her own sexual powers.

We will utilize our transit time so I could prep you on my mothers “game” so that you will not get sucked into her whore vortex. By the time we get to the restaurant you will be well versed in the art of “player” so you are welcome to bring a pen and paper to use the tricks later at your own personal discretion. I will give you appropriate responses so you know how to put the attention back on me without being too rude. If you are too rude it will just turn her on more and I wont even be able to leave you two to use the restroom. We will hash out the details of our “personal” relationship via email.

Please send me a recent picture of your self and I will respond with one of me.

Please memorize this line, “I love your sweater Ms. ****. My mother bought one just like it Wednesday at JC Penny’s senior morning sale.”

I guess this turned out to be more of a rant and rave but I’m one hand job away from disowning her and my HALF sister.

NFL

Well today marked the official day of get-shit-faced Sundays. Not that we haven't been doing that all summer, but now that football season has started it's a better excuse than, It's Irish tourist season"It's summer!" I'm pretty sure that only is a decent excuse for a college student, but we really don't care.

It was a ridiculous day for football. The Niners started strong with an interception and then I guess there was no place to go but down. I will say for Paige's sake the next game(s) will all be winners. All of them. Win or loose she will be on the booze but when the latter happens the ghetto might come out of her.

We went to the Greens on Polk street. A pretty brilliant place to watch the game. Really I am only saying that because the men there were gorgeous. There was a guy sitting in front of me with forearms the size of my calf. And not in a Guido juice head kind of way. In an I-used to play-football-but-tore-a-ligament-and-now-have-a-big-office-job-and-do-my-hot-girlfriend-three-times-a-day kinda way.

Is it a coincidence that the first weekend of no J1ers we are not at the 32? Yes. Yes it is. I just want to make it clear, officially, that it is not due to our will that football season started the same weekend that we are sans J1ers. Our absence at the 32 is only because football season started and we go to the Greens. (Feel free to stalk us).

I made an effort to stay at least one drink behind Paige all day, so I didn't get too drunk too soon. I left her at the bar when the game was almost over as I had some business to take care of. She was talking up some Irish lad that was fresh off the boat yesterday so I would imagine she would not mind if I left. She was in good company and by good company, I mean men. I left my card at the bar and the last I heard from her was that she would get it for me. My texts after that got no response, so my only conclusion is that she got bat shit wasted and is passed out in the back of a cab that is hopefully en route to her house as she has work at 8 am. I got home later and texted anyone I thought might have a pint at the 32 with me. I guess even with the Irish season ending football season starting, I still could do a little 32 on a Sunday night. Well, that didn't pan out so here I am. Hopefully Paige retains some memory of today so that we can hear what kind of shit show happened at the Greens.

A Guide to Drinking:

Pirate Killer Needed for Free Trip Around the World!

This is a chance of a lifetime!

My best girlfriend and I are planning to come into some money soon. We plan on living the dream, buying a large sail boat and just traveling around the world. Although quite adventurous we are only two small young girls, thus quite defenseless. Well we could theoretically defend ourselves but we will most likely be drunk most of the time and thus not in the right state to be on the lookout for pirates or rapists. I’m not sure I would be very good shooting a pirate with double vision. I tried going to the gun range hammered to practice but for some reason they would not rent me a gun. I tried explaining my fear of pirates but that just got me physically carried out. Apparently yelling “But how will I fight the Pirates?! They could come at any moment!” caused some sort of distrust between me the gun range man. Personally, I think he must have been on some sort of power trip.

Anyways, all we need is one strong fearless man to kill any pirates we come across. If you have killed a man before that could be a plus. If you have any pirate killing experience you are a definite shoe-in. You may be the luckiest man you know and the envy of all your friends. You will be able to travel the world, lie in the sun all day with two hot girls, and explore a different city every week, without a care in the world (except pirates.) I cannot stress this enough. We may from time to time ask you to help fish or man the sail, but your main concern and number one enemy is Pirates.

Also if you are anything like Kurt Russell in “Captain Ron” we encourage you to apply.