The New Catbirds

First of all, my apologies to the horsefaced women I dissed in my previous post. It's not so much that I have a problem with your horse face (like your ass face--why, Prax, does it always lead back to a Christopher Guest quote?); it's that I have a problem with your cartoon chipmunk voices, your vapid brains, and the fact that you end every comment with an upward intonation. Translation=horsefaced. So forgive me my vodka ramblings. It's your personality and essence i loathe.

ugh. I have no Vault today, only coffee. Really, though, I don't need the Vault as much as I need Visine. This damned dryness is killing my eyes. I look strung out all the time.

Ok, so The New Catbirds (TNC). This place is not as cool as the original but cooler than Bizarro Catbirds for sure. It's on the college bar strip, but it's nestled somewhere in between, so it has a nice mix of students, grad students, profs, and locals. Really, I was having a great time all night celebrating D's bday there. The band was an odd mix of Funk and RunDMC with a little Michael Jackson thrown in for good measure. Oh, lol, and they played a strange remix of Play that funky music white boy (how much do I fucking hate that song) and Ice Ice Baby.

Clientele? There were bikers and hippies with hula hoops (the hippies not the bikers, though that would've been funny). Did I hula hoop? Oh hell yes. And there were Robert Smith lookalikes and a guy that looked like someone from Devo. And like I said, your typical mix of students.

Convos were fun. Had a Lebowski quote off with one guy. Talked about how this would be the last year we'd ever love the Cubbies again(yeah right) with another. Taked about how Lubbock doesn't get any better with another. And listened to a chipmunk talk about something incoherent for about an hour. Neither D nor I could make out what she said, but she was sweet, I suppose.

Only one fight broke out, so it's not quite Catbirds, and I was able to leave unscathed from the vodka within, unlike Catbirds (or really, was that MoMongs?). What I find also cool is that the bars in the place are actually handmade by a guy who teaches in my building at school. I just find myself examining it. So cool.

So yeah, a good night despite the jaw clencher. And now it's time to bake and focus on paper writing.

Random gurgles

I found a new Catbirds.

Lubbock doesn't have Vault.

My fridge is filled with cheap beer and no cheese pizza.

I bought spaghetti os today for 88 cents.

I am unbelievably toxic, and the cheap beer, pizza, and spaghetti os are not going to help.

I have to somehow muster the energy to run 13 miles tomorrow.

Frat boys annoy me more now than they did when I was in undergrad, and that is really saying something.

There are times this past week when I wondered WTF I am doing coming back to school full time.

Someone paid me $20 to smile. My smile is depreciating.

My bar arguments are getting better, though, with this newfound doctoral knowledge. I actually used the terms random sampling, population, and covariance in a debate with a frat boy on Friday about baseball. It was wasted on him, but I felt pretty proud.

I did not fall asleep in my shoes like Glinda does, but I did crash naked on the floor wrapped in a crocheted afghan. I woke up freezing with a neckache grasping onto a half drunk bottle of powerade. Gurgle.

So that was this week. I think I'm done with the self-destructive adjustment meltdown, so next week I should have happy posts to report. I mean, Lubbock is only temporary, and so what if I'm 10 years older than people in my cohort and 15 years older than the rest of the people on campus. So what if I'm surrounded by chain restaurants and dollar stores. So what if I can't even go to the football games because grad students have to pay full price. So what if I'm fucking broke with no income until October and maybe not even then bc I'm still not in the system. So what if I will spend Kimday and Turkeyday alone. So what.

Free stuff everywhere this next week. Wed is a new grad student recep with free hors d'oeuvres and wine. I'm taking a big purse. Thursday is free starbucks coffee seminar followed by star gazing at the planetarium. Friday I'll find something. It's all good.

And there are always marmots.

I'm back, sort of

My router is all f'd up, so it takes longer than dial up to connect to any webpage, and when it does, it doesn't pull up anything hi-res. Needless to say, I haven't blogged since Feb 27. The only internet access I've had has been at work, and right now, I'm at a local pub using the wifi.

So what's happened in over a month? I don't remember, so it must've been good. Here are the highlights I recall in no particular order:

* SBT won't talk to me anymore. I'm a threat.
* 2shirts and I got a little tipsy over a bottle of really good wine at a local wine bar. We were grading papers at the time. A glassful of vino helps the grading go down...
* Finished up work at Crazytech. Whew!
* Met a bunch of rocket scientists at the local pub. Yes, literally, they are rocket scientists. Why did that night remind me of a night out with Glinda?
* # of hangovers: 4. Evidentally I have not taken up G's need to end consumerism.
* # of visits to Bizarro Catbirds: 0
* # of visits to Catbirds: 1; I did not get blitzed, but I did have one Caucasian and scared Nerfherder a bit. I think I've become a Maneater.
* # of men frightened: 4
* Spent an entire Friday at the art museum in the old hood. I miss the old hood.
* Made $300 at a fundraiser. Thanks, guys.
* Pretended to be a photographer at a wedding. 110 pics out of 300 something were good. Works for me. Hopefully it works for the artist formally known as Narc.
* Narc is now known as BJ, not for his ability or desire to give or receive BJs but because he is Bizarro Jerry. This requires an entire post to itself, but I'm not sure I'm up to it today.
* Met the New Narc or NuNarc as he will be dubbed on this blog. Unbelievable. Apparently he thinks I'm pretty but not hot enough to make him want to rip off my dress. Wow. What a ladies man.
* Favorite text message [from Glinda]: "I'm watching a Mariah Carey video with unicorns. WTF? Oh, and a midget spanked me." Apparently, she was not high.
* Hung out at same local pub with some guys who race professionally. I actually used the term Chilton manual in a conversation. Note to self: professional race boys don't like Chimay, only drink Bud products, and think older women are hot. Nice to know.
* Was approached to apply for a position as an Old Spice Girl. That's Old Spice the product, not an old Spice Girl. Still, it makes me giggle. I see myself next to Sporty with Old Spice written in Sharpie across my chest singing: "So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.."
* # of times I've declined a drink from someone with a beer tshirt on at ye local pub since I've started writing this post: 4.

That's about it, folks. I'd post about the Bizarro Jerry thing, but it's lost its humor, I fear.

*

Morning before xmas

Twas the morning before xmas
and all through my house
not a creature was stirring
except my cats and their mouse.

The stockings were packed
in their boxes this year
Because this xmas season
I'm up to my rear.

And Radford was snuggled
all down in his den
Meaning Dylan was king
of the complex again.

With eggnog in hand,
and no one to toast
I'd just settled down
for a little blog post.

When on my computer
there arose such a clatter
I clicked on my email
to see what was the matter.

Someone had sent me
themselves in disguise
as an elf of dear Santa
with big bulging eyes.

Chuckling a little
I turned to my blog
Scrolling through the year's post
to see what I've logged.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a gamut of stories--not so bad of a year!

In January, for instance,
I headed to Philly
with Praxis and Y arms
climbing steps willy nilly.

And the rest of the year
in the cranky hall of fame
I'll shorten and simply
list them by name:

Damn Catbirds, OUT CP, and what's with Texas shabbats?
Dreams of aliens, hippos, McSteamy, and marmots.
Goodbye G, Hello running, Chinese and the burbs
Kimday, Lubbock, Fence Rider, and Bizarro Catbirds

Not as wild as last year
but who's keeping track?
At least I have finally
come to terms with my "rack."

Don Eduardo remains happy
He's had a great run (no pun intended)
but for 2008
I'm accepting my buns

And this poem could go on
but I'm into brevity
Happy xmas to all
or at least "wine up" like me!

Don't look at the fat ass losers and freaks. You look at MEEEEEEE!!!!

Ah, gotta love Best in Show.

Praxis, the man for his time and place, came down to sunny Houston as one of the legs of his Snowbird Vacation. There was much walking, naming nuts, kareoke singing, marmot sighting, and Lebowski viewing. We also ate bbq where, right in the middle of Sunday football, the bar was broadcasting pro bowling and a dog show. And yes, Prax visited Bizarro Catbirds, where we meet with Twoshirts and Goldie and changed the lyrics to songs.

BC is really starting to have some problems. Half the place was closed down. My favorite bartender was not there. It took them 35 min to figure out how to make an Irish Coffee or to not figure it out, actually, because I never got it. Apparently, it was "too much of an issue" or so the waitress said.

All in all, it was krunk, to use the parlance of our times.

So Praxis leaves with a mission in hand--Operation Marmot. It's top secret, so I can't reveal the contents. He also has Operation Robert Goulet, which involves posting about the aforementioned singer in a marmot coat singing Christmas carols. Post on, Praxis. Post on.

To Darth, the Catbirds apologist

He cuts off his Samson hair, and suddenly he thinks he's Perry Mason. Darth gave his great rebuttal: "Bizarro Catbirds is no Bizarro Catbirds." How's that for circular reasoning? Still, I will humor him and explain why Bizarro Catbirds remains so named.


Darth retort #1: The people don't compare. Yes, they do. Bizarro Catbirds is Bizarro because it is the suburban (opposite but equal)version of catbirds. Catbirds has urban skank. BC has suburban skank.

Darth retort #2: The atmosphere doesn't compare. Catbirds plays 1940's jazz. Bizarro Catbirds had a cover band playing Loverboy, Journey, and Toto! First of all, Catbirds plays a CD collection of 1940s and '50s jazz, and the dj doesn't even know who Ella Fitzgerald is. That proves my point. Catbirds tries to be a cool jazz bar but misses the beat, so to speak, and BC tries to be a live music venue and plays shitty '80s covers. Both sad.

Darth retort #3: The girls at Catbirds have tattoos all over. The majority of girls at Bizarro Catbirds have a tribal thingy on their lower back. And I've never seen so many fake breasts in my life! See my response to #1--that and I've never seen so many poser Emo people at Catbirds in my life.

Cranky concession #1--Yes, I am a psycho magnet

Above all, though, it's my damn blog, and I can give BC what ever pseudonym I want.

Smooches, Dark Lord.

bizarro catbirds defined

So Darth came down...

hold on--wait a minute--I just have to say that Glinda is a freak with her obsession with amputeeism.

Ok, so Darth came down to the burbs and visited Bizarro Catbirds. His comment was that it was "NO Bizarro Catbirds." Here's the thing: Darth loves Catbirds, so of course, nothing can compare. I don't. It's skanky, fights break out, freaky people reside there, and I just get snockered for no reason at Catbirds. Why? I'm not sure. The drinks are watered down. Perhaps it's because G and I usually went to Mo Mongs for cocktails before Catbirds and stumbled across the street already drunk. I dunno.

Bizarro, by definition, is the doppelganger of something. Bizarro Catbirds, then, is the perfect doppelganger of Catbirds for these reasons:

1. It is huge, but no one circulates. They just huddle together in whatever room they choose. Catbirds is a one room place where everyone huddles together.
2. The drinks are typically watered down. See above. An exception to this is when the bartender that likes you is there and gives you divine drinks.
3. It's skanky. Suburban skanky.
4. Catbirds clientele is representative of the misfits of the area. So is Bizarro Catbirds.
5. No matter what day or what time of the day, some fight will break out. Or some nutjob will talk to me, giving me much fuel for my blog. The best posts come out of Catbirds or Bizarro Catbirds.
6. The worst, unexplained hangovers of my life are from both places.
7. Both places have unbelievable bartenders who have a tendency to give me potent drinks for free--many, many potent drinks [ah, now I see the snockered connection]
8. Both places also have a tendency to produce a gem now and then, someone with whom I can have a genuine conversation. This is rarely the case.
9. Despite the new nonsmoking rule in Houston, I come out of both places smelling like a chimney. It takes 4 hair washings to get the soot out of my hair.
10. It's the place I hate and dread going (every morning after starts with "I'm never going there again), but for some unknown reason, I keep ending up there.

I hate Catbirds and Bizarro Catbirds. And Praxis will experience it this weekend.

Better late than never

Forgot to post this--I went to Bizarro Catbirds the other night, and some guy actually said this to me:

"Wow. You are like, gorgeous, I mean, wow, like, I mean, you are like, that face, that face is like, I would say angel but no, no, no, that doesn't cut it. You're more, you're more, you're like a VAMPIRE!"

Yep. That's me. Sexy vampire bitch. See, that's my problem. In high school, I trained under the Disney choreographers in dance, and one of my instructors said that talentwise, she'd recommend me to the Disney Dynasty (Mickey Mouse Club and all that) but that I'm just not All American enough--too exotic. Now I realize it's because I look like a fuckin' vampire!

Dance 10 Looks 3.

No Vault needed

A year ago I wrote this poem. Today I'm feeling just fine. I think I suffered more mental anguish yesterday than alcohol anguish. Seriously, though, the new Catbirds is evil, and I should not venture out there without my friends and chaperones. Darth was too busy at the real Catbirds, and 2shirts (in lame suburban fashion) was passing out candy at a coworker's house. Come on! You boys should be blocking me from the evils abounding in Clear Lake. It's an easy task now that Glinda, the greater evil, is not here to lure me into the "dorksided". ;-)

A shout out to Darth, though. He bought a new sith crib with hot tub and swanky pool. It's 1/2way between Clear Lake and the 'trose, so it might become the new new Catbirds for a future Kimday event.

Seriously, though, not all that excited about Halloween this year or Kimday. what the hell is wrong with me? I'm a curmudgeon.

omg

I was so blinded by my first naked woman boob, that I forgot to mention the other weird parts of the night.

Some man commented on my "cute Bambi ass." Apparently, he could see the woodland creatures huddling underneath it.

Another said it was sexy that I would come to a bar with a "natural look," codeword for homely.

Another said that he was a contortionist and would gladly hide in my carry on bag for my trip to Cali.

Another said he just wanted to be my friend and in the same breath asked if friendship to me meant that we would have sex.

Another argued (I use that term loosely bc I barely argued) with me over the exact age Jesus was when he died. He looked it up on his I phone.

And then, a man asked me to save his seat at the bar, and handed me a condom for collateral. It was purple.

Helloween

The suburbs are evil.

Spent the evening at the new catbirds. The bartender felt that I wasn't smiling enough for him, so he gave me shots (in martini glasses). Seriously, I paid for 1 drink all night. Crazy.

Costumes abounded. Beaker. Ms. Spider Piggy. Hulk Hogan. Carlos Colon. Rey Mysterio. Jack Sparrow. The Chicken Avenger. Eve. And then a bunch of tramps.

Girls were drunker than ever. Men were taking advantage. And I was the savior of all. For some unknown reason, girls in the bathroom kept asking me to help them take their pants off. I don't know what this was all about. I'm in line, waiting for a stall, and I hear this crying, and everyone ignores them. I finally walk up, and a girl needs me to unbuckle her belt. Then she asks me her name, and from then on, I kept getting calls: "Kim! Kim!" Every girl in town needed her damn pants unzipped. WTF? I would think I was the product of a lesbian toaster initiation, but they honestly couldn't unzip their pants.

Then one girl shoves her boob in my face, and I mean a naked boob! She makes me touch her (pulls my hand over) and says, "He thinks they are saggy. Are they saggy?" What do you do with that??? I just muttered something about not caring what some stupid man thinks about your boobs. they aren't for him anyway. blah blah blah, and then I slipped out of the bathroom.

Spent the next few moments with young military men who have been in prison.

Then I went home.

Catbirds ain't got nothin' on Bizzaro Catbirds.

mmm like catbirds but not

Yeah, ok, I've hit some sort of time warp.

Previously, in the life of Cranky, I was as frugal as they come. No, I take that back. My dad is more frugal. He would make tomato soup out of hot water and ketchup, but anyway, I was frugal jr. In college, I knew all the happy hours in town with buffets. And back then, I never had to pay for a drink, so it was free food and drink for me. I'd "borrow" tp from dorms for my apt and would sell back my books the 2nd day for beer money (well some of them like physics and nutrition). I taught my roommate the art of thrift store shopping and came from a family who never bought anything if it wasn't on sale. I once found an awesome sale at walgreens for tomato soup and bought a bunch for 30 cents apiece. I ate tomato soup for like a year, splitting them between two meals until the next happy hour buffet. Ah, those were the days.

So then post college I got all philanthropic once i started making money (as much as you can make working non profit) and started helping out friends (letting them mooch off me for free), and lately, with an 11 year old car and unbelievable rent and gas prices, I've suddenly flipped back into frugality. Maybe it was the trip into the suburbs that did it (no more great restaurants and cafes). Maybe it's the fact that I've got to buy a new car soon. Maybe it's the pending 33 hanging over my head. Maybe it's some dysthymic phase, the post marathon training blues. Sigh. I don't know.

So today, I decided to forgo the chicken soup and went to Bizarro Catbirds for a drink solely because I knew they had a free happy hour buffet. I had a dollar well drink and potato chips with beans, salsa, guacamole, and some other ingredient that escapes me now. [shudder]. But it was free. And, ladies and gentlemen, I drank the next two drinks for free. Still got it!

The highlights? Well, I spoke Italian for the majority of the night to some man from Torino. Then I spoke a little Chinese and German. And then I talked to a triathlete and his brother, the orthopedic surgeon who moonlights as a gyno (wtf?). He seems to think my orthoped is a quack. I think so, too, and so whatever he tells me tomorrow, I'm running. My foot doesn't even hurt anymore. I haven't run, but if it hurts running I will walk. I am soooo doing this marathon.

Hopefully, getting back into the marathon groove will bring me back to normal Cranky. Seriously, I don't even like happy hour food (unless I am watching the Cubs, and the bar tonight was not playing Ch 9. Sigh).

I'm in a funk.