Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Smash Man, and Revelations. Maybe.

So, being the summer, there are all of these interesting things going on everywhere. None of them are happening to me, but it's like I'm the snarky friend in about seven romantic comedies right now.

Um, and on Saturday we went to Mother's.

Mother's is...well...it's like where desperate twenty and thirty-somethings with a hard-on for shame and sheepery go to cut loose. Walking into Mother's on a Saturday night is an act of compunction. You can smell the sadness, the pathetic lust. Mother's is a dance club for people who shamefully and openly emulate a Cool crowd, people who follow trends blindly, people who squeeze into shirts and skirts so unfortunately that I feel sincere discomfort just glancing at them, and automatically adjust myself.

Mother's on the weekend is where guys with fake tans slime into unbuttoned-at-the-top collared shirts, clap on a gold chain, and troll for sloppy Bachelorette parties and girls with low self-confidence and say insincere, douchebag things to get those lonely girls to feel special, like "you have no idea how sexy you are."

By the way, that's Guyspeak for "Your lack of self-confidence is painfully obvious. This is like throwing a dog a bone, if you were a dog and bones were generic compliments. Or my penis. I am such a PUA."


But despite all that business like three, four years ago we used to go to Mother's every Thursday, when it was empty and they had Live Band Karaoke.

We had theme nights. We were friends with the staff, the bands, the owner. We were retarded. We each individually probably spent over $300 a week on fucking alcohol. I don't know if that's a lot to you, but it's a fucking lot to me. I don't even know how I did that shit.

Six small groups of friends melted together to form one supergroup. We called ourselves The Whores. I've mentioned the story before. I even used this picture, since it's the only one I've got with all the female Whores in it, but basically after one particularly rowdy night, some douchebag put up a post on Craigslist about us, "the whores last night at Mothers" who were a disgrace to women everywhere, far too brazen and reckless to mingle in regular society.

My guess is this guy hit on one of us, got totally shot down, and lashed out in shame. I love how guys do that, with their widdle biddy egos.



Surprisingly, he seemed to leave out the fact that it wasn't just a group of girls. There were plenty of male whores, too.

One such male whore was our dear friend, Lewis. That's him, right there, from our Tarantino Night.

Three years ago on July 8, Lewis died. It was kind of unexpected. He was born with a heart defect. He had regular surgeries to keep shit pumping, but it just kind of...stopped.

Schmee, M.E., and Adam were all with him the night before his death, hanging out at his uncle's restaurant and getting good and drunk.

Adam stopped drinking for three years. He said his last drink was with Lewis, and he wanted to keep it that way for awhile.

Lewis was well-loved. I didn't even get along with him all the time, but I miss him. A lot. We used to say we would get drunk and smash things. We were all about smashing. I don't know why.

His death kind of shook all of us out of whatever world we were fucking splashing through, one where we were mighty and bulletproof and always, always, always drunk.

We stopped hanging out as much after that, planned fewer theme nights, going to Mother's less and less. Lewis was really more into Mother's than we were, I think.

But anyway, after three years, a bunch of us hung out on Saturday. Some of us haven't been to Mother's in well over a year. But Adam broke up with his girlfriend and decided he needed a fucking Jager bomb. The only logical thing to do was gather the troops and head back to Mother's, and at midnight Adam worked his way backwards from the last drinks he shared with Lewis. A shot of Patron, a pint of Jager and red bull. Rum and coke.

After his first silvery shot, he made a face. I'd never seen Adam make a face after a shot before. Then again, that was three years ago.

He wriggles. "Dude, you know what tastes fucking disgusting?"

"Hmmm?"

"Tequila."

I feign shock. "Bitch, that's Patron. Be glad your last shot wasn't fucking Sauza."

"Ugggghhhh...where's my Jager?" He takes a sip, and gazes lovingly down at the glass. "Oh, how could I imagine being with any woman other than this bombshell?"

"You were totally planning on saying that."

"Yes I was."

"That's the Adam I know and love."

Anyway, so we went back to Mother's. It took us awhile to get used to the people there, and their minds, and at first I felt sorry for them, and then I felt like an asshole. And then I was glad for us. So out of place there.

We laughed at them. Yeah, it was mean-spirited. But some people just look so ridiculous. Were we like that three, four years ago? No way. Impossible. We were powerful and adored and hated, and people wanted to be us. People knew who we were, they talked about us behind our backs.

We weren't frantic for attention. Not like them. We didn't smell like desperation, we didn't scramble to be noticed, to be loved.

Right?

...

23 comments:

hereinfranklin said...

Rass--I remember those bullet proof days...well, sort of. Anyhow, that was a wonderful tribute to your all your friends, but especially to Lewis.

la isla d'lisa said...

You are freaking awesome.

Florida Girl In Sydney said...

That was a great post.

No, you definitely weren't frantic for attention-- not in those outfits with those themes, right?

Too bad Lewis isn't here to see all his friends all grown up and responsible-- I think? Right?

The Ambiguous Blob said...

how did you pay rent and buy liquor? It boggles the mind. Also, I hope your friend partied with you from the great beyond the other night.

Sarah said...

Great post!

renalfailure said...

The quiet horror of growing old... seeing the younger annoying people and fearing that you too had been like that back in the day.

It's never a perfect match, some of the little annoyances are the same, but usually the more egregious ones are all the youngsters.

Blues said...

You know, I've tried many times to capture this drunken time in my life, people that were so important to me at the time, but when I try to identify with the feelings they are all retarded and pretentious and that's exactly how the post comes out. Probably because i was retarded and pretentious and trying to find depth where there really just fucking was nothing other than Monday-night-Madness-dollar-you call-its at Omalleys to start off the week. Seriously, how I held down a job and graduated from college is an absolute mystery. The more time passes, the harder it is to write about. I really felt something back then...is it possible it was just the alcohol?

But this was just so good, mixing humor with sadness and memories. This is the Rassles stuff i totally fucking dig. Wait, I think I dig all the Rassles stuff, but you know.

nursemyra said...

Lewis would be proud

Mia Watts said...

Fucking love this line- "Mother's is a dance club for people who shamefully and openly emulate a Cool crowd, people who follow trends blindly, people who squeeze into shirts and skirts so unfortunately that I feel sincere discomfort just glancing at them, and automatically adjust myself."

And then you got all morose. It's 7:30 in the morning and I feel the need for a Jaeger bomb. Thanks ever so.

I'm calling my girls together and going to the bar tonight, for you and the whores and Lewis.

Cheers.

Moist Rub said...

Right.

sid said...

Looking at those pictures. My youth was so totally wasted!!!

Le Meems said...

wow.
$300 a week?
thats some serious milk money sweetheart.


(oops was signed into my old gmail account and posted that. it is I, Le Meems. Not that old Meems + someone else. gawd. Talk about the old days ;)

Rassles said...

Basically, here's why I had the money then:

I finished college and lived with my parents for about four years. Worked three jobs eighty+ hours a week for that first year and paid off all of my student loans damn near at once.

Started grad school, worked two jobs. Quit grad school. Still worked like fifty hours a week. Did not save. Spend money on alcohol and cigarettes and going places. Drank daily.

Realized I needed to grow the fuck up and abruptly moved out of my parent's house. With rent came financial ruin. It is way better being broke than being reckless, I think.

ZenMom said...

This is a great post. Slainte.

Kitty said...

You're the only person who makes me want to be twenty-something again.
Just for a day.

So sorry about your friend.

Mongoliangirl said...

I just want to know if you and Blues have figured out doing the "Deaf Chick" act yet?

Great post Rass. Really great.

Chris said...

I like many women in bunny costumes.

The post was good as well.

Anonymous said...

God. Awful. Awesome.

I need a drink.

Schmee said...

Whore-ray for Lewis! wish I would have come out on Saturday now...I wanna hear stories.

Thanatos said...

Really. You should do eulogies.

Ginny said...

Sometimes, I get sick of feeling like such a kiss ass when I comment here, but fuck me, that was great. You're almost too good - like you are actually in your fifties, have had time to reflect on your 20s, then used some funky time machine to go back and write about them.

Gypsy said...

On Saturday I drove by my old stomping grounds and saw the line of kids snaking out the door waiting to get their wristbands, and I thought, "Holy fuck, they're so young! Did I look like that when I was booty shaking it on the dance floor and downing free drinks like no tomorrow?"

Weird.

Rassles said...

Thanks everyone, for the lovin'.