mastering the 20 hour day

The World Cup games have been screwing with my mental stability in more ways than one. Pubs are opening at far too early an hour, friends are awake and texting before I've completed my mandatory number of REM cycles, and on the days I do wake up to go watch a game, my entire day is turned sideways because of my random sleeping/drinking habits. [[I won't even go into how random it is that so many people are interested in soccer all of a sudden. Half these people wouldn't have know who Landon Donovan was a month ago, and now they pray to him. Thats a whole different post.]]
After living through a full day (6:30am-2:00am) of pubs, bars, beers, downtown, uptown, boats, bikinis, and cab rides, I have compiled some knowledge for those attempting to do the same. These days won't be every day. In fact, they may only happen once a year. (For your general health, I suggest that they only happen once a year.) But when they do, lets all learn from the mistakes I made on Tuesday.
1. Do have breakfast. Bacon, eggs, toast, pancakes-- all fantastic ideas. Especially if you plan to keep the dream alive all day.
2. Do start early. Generally, the earlier you start drinking, the earlier you'll fall asleep. In this case, sleep is sweet. Bloody Mary first thing in the AM will kick start your day so you aren't wasting time. (And the serving of veggies doesn't hurt one bit.)
3. NAP. If you are near a couch, chair, bed, park bench before 11am, for goodness sakes, take a nap. There is no shame at all in giving in to 30 minutes of renewal. You'll thank me around 6pm.
4. If you aren't asleep, keep moving. Walk as much as possible. Don't get stuck at one bar. The longer you stay in one place, the worse your chances are of making the day.
5. Say Yes to offers that involve leaving the drinking area. Someone wants to take a trip to the mall? Go with them. Up for a boat ride? Count yourself in. You'll be back to drinking soon enough, but keep yourself moving and the endorphins flowing.
6. Water. Drink it.
7. And don't forget food. Eating is still important. Beer may have calories, but it is not food.
8. Pick your friends wisely: Drunk friends will make your night shorter, sober friends will make you feel drunk. Get someone from the in between.
9. Don't get stuck alone-- especially after 3pm. Always be with a friend, and don't be afraid to switch friends every so often.
10. Do all of this downtown so that you can hop in a cab and be somewhere new and more exciting whenever you feel a crash coming along. You've made it this far, you might as well power through the night.
11a. If its after 6pm, going to sleep will end your night. Do not try to nap. Have a big cup of cold water and get back to socializing.
11b. If you have to work the next morning, go to sleep at 6pm. Your body NEEDS those extra hours to clean up the mess you've made. (Believe me, you've made a really big mess for just 12 hours.)

I wish I'd had this information earlier. Hopefully it gets to you before World Cup games try to throw off your drinking stamina. The world is depending on you to wake up for those 7am games.
I really am drinking for the greater good.
L

of age

Am I old? That stings. But tonight I was content with soda water on the rocks... so... I think I'm getting there. Lately hangovers  have been abundant, and blackout moments have been so much easier to come by. One beer pushes me to the point of sending text messages I'm likely to regret by sunrise. And a night is rarely just one beer, so imagine being the poor guy on my speed dial. (He tolerates it well. Thank you.)

My question for the night is this: when did 24 become so very very old? Or is old not the word I'm looking for... Maybe... 24 just means I'm more easily-affected by alcohol. Or maybe I'm just more responsible? I suppose a year ago I might have had equally impressive hangovers, but I slept through them. Now, more and more often, I feel obligated to try to 1) have an amazing night and 2) show up for work ready to work.

Anyway- my new receipe for a good night: 1 beer, 1 red bull, 12 soda waters. You'll be moving in and out of crowds all night- on your way to and from the bathroom- so you'll feel like you're busy and involved in the atmosphere, without ever having to actually be involved. This is the lazy girl's guide to a night out.
Club soda in a cocktail glass. My future is clear and bubbly.
Cheers.
L

3 day rule

I remember learning from some late 90's chick flick that you have to wait 3 days after meeting someone to call them. I've never personally followed this rule. If I like you, I'm texting you 20 minutes after I get your number. If you like me, you're doing the same. I assumed my practice of this was because if it was meant to be, it'd be that way now or later. I've learned otherwise. 


My phone rang a few minutes ago. The number calling was saved in my phone. It was a boy's name. I do not know anyone by this name, but I know I saved this number. I checked my text messages, to see if I'd ever had a random text-conversation with this person. No. I checked my call logs to see if I'd ever talked to this person. No. I looked up the area code on his phone number to see if I could remember meeting anyone, ever, from that area. No. Thank goodness he left a message. 
"Hey L, haha, I like your voicemail*. It's P, incase you don't remember, I met you Monday at ****. I was just calling because I had a great time talking to you Monday and getting to know you, and I was wondering if you'd want to go to dinner tomorrow or Saturday....." 


*My voicemail prompt says "Leave a message". People have told me I sound pretty angry. I don't really like listening to voicemail, or leaving them. 


He then told me his schedule for the day, so I'd know when to call him back with an answer. 


THANK GOODNESS he left a message. The guy would have had no chance of a call back otherwise. And THANK GOODNESS he identified himself, when we met, and where we met. He may not have known it, but I was there doing a job interview. The person interviewing me was taking shots, and buying them for me. I remember meeting P, but I didn't commit enough of him to memory to have known his name. 


The 3 day rule makes some sense. You don't want to seem too eager, and I get that. You still seem interested enough when you call 3 days later. (You're still thinking about me 3 days later? That's almost more enticing than a call 20 minutes after the number exchange.) But boys, pay attention to what P has mastered: leave your name, when you met, and where you were when you met. Maybe even how you met. Be complete. Otherwise, you're just a creep who took my phone and entered your number, since I have no recollection of writing it down myself. 


Class dismissed. 
L 

back to summer

I've been too lazy to write for this blog, much less to go out and socialize so that I'd have something to write. Laziness be gone! It is 8pm and the sun is still out. Summer has arrived, and all my excuses have melted away.

Tomorrow night is the grand opening of a fairly new restaurant in midtown. It is also the grand opening of my summer social schedule. Expect things. Not big things, but things. As many and as much as I can hope to provide.

And, if you're around, come to the opening. Red Lotus at J and 28th. Start your summer, too.
L

the driver on the bus yells...

I've been taking the bus. Regional Transit runs right from my midtown apartment to campus, where I spend most of my money-making hours, so taking the bus makes sense in multiple ways. Mostly, I'm too cheap to buy a parking permit for campus- $150!- but I also like to think I'm doing my part for the environment. (Really though, if you offered me a free permit, I'd drive.) The bus, though, is a learning experience.
I haven't been brave enough to stray from the one line that takes me directly to and from school, I've never tried making a connection or a transfer. Buses are not scary because of the other passengers or because of the waiting or the bus stops, buses are scary because of the drivers.
Usually my bus drivers do not say a word. I offer "Good Morning!", and they nod and proceed to close the doors behind me and accelarate, propelling me into the first available seat. Even when a passenger asks something of the driver, say, how much change he needs to put in for a transfer, the driver rarely responds with more than one word. I can't blame them, they have to do this all day and it must get kind of monotonous. On the other hand, so does the guy at McDonalds and he never fails to offer me fries.
Today's driver was the most vocal I've ever seen. Before I'd taken 2 steps onto the bus he had taken the liberty to yell at me about how to signal a bus to stop. Thank you, bus driver man, without your kind words I'd never have learned my lesson. Was this all? No no. The driver continued to talk to boarding passengers at the stops after mine, although never to ask how their day had begun, more so to acknowledge their presence on his bus.
This driver was also not afraid - at all- to use his horn. I've never heard so much honking in all my life. My ride to campus is about 30 blocks. Takes about 10 minutes. This man honked at least 4 times! Each honk was a double honk (honk-honk!!!). I was sitting too far back to see what he was honking at, whether car or person, but I really think most of his honking was unnecessary.

I'm not suggesting that I am some kind of amateur bus driver critic, nor do I wish any bad karma to this driver. Honestly, he's the most sociable driver I've ever had the pleasure of riding with. People on the bus, though, are so much different from the people at the clubs. There must be some overlap, we are all living in the same city, wandering the same streets day in and day out, but I have yet to see any.

The bus will be the source of many new experiences in the city. Especially now that I've learned my lesson.
Thank you, bus driver man. Pleasant journeys.
L

Battle of the... DJs

Tuesday nights are probably good nights for some establishment in the downtown area, but the Powerhouse in Folsom has owned Tuesday's younger crowd ever since I can remember. I spent my 21st birthday there a few years ago, and Tuesday's have been their night long before and ever since. Usually DJ Rigatony runs the music on Tuesday, but tonight the Powerhouse hosted the DJ All Stars Battle. In a non-official report, I'll tell all.

Powerhouse only charges a 5$ cover, but the line out the door stretches at least 50 people at any time after 10:15pm. Guest lists, however, are easy to find and extremely easy to get onto. Having accessed one of these lists and arrived prior to 10:15, my friend and I find it easy to get inside the sticky dive-bar themed club. (Dive bar themed club. I know. But its true and I wouldn't lie.) There are already DJ battles underway. We find DJ Rigatony in the private upstairs area, judging the DJ battles. A shame, because this guy can spin harder than I can dance with 4 RedBulls in me, but these DJs aren't half bad themselves. B and I decide to give them each a chance and head to the dance floor.

The bar at Powerhouse (or Scarletts, if you are on the back patio) does a great Long Island, and they pour beer like a good bar should. Avoid the 'Adios Motherf*cker', no matter what the 21 year old next to you recommends. It is a lethal mix of sugar, booze, and disgusting that no grown person should willingly subject themself to. Trust.

I hate to admit this, but the DJs begin to blur into one another. I cannot tell the real personality behind each DJ, and I stop paying attention to the battle. My apologies to the DJs, but isn't it more important that I never stopped enjoying myself? I think that is the real accomplishment here. Nevermind the prize money.

I'll post an update with the winners soon- I don't want to misspell their names and I want to be able to give their upcoming events. If they were good enough to win Tony's vote, I think they deserve some low-key press from 'lil 'ol me.

In all honesty, as young as the crowd was at Powerhouse I still had a great night. I saw old friends, met some new ones, and found time in between to enjoy a beer and an hour of dancing it off.

One warning for the ladies: Beware the grabby hands. They like your ass, and they aren't afraid to tell you. They also aren't good with words.

Powerhouse, Tuesday night: 4/5. A good night is almost guaranteed.

But please don't quote me.

L

the headache

I've been single for 5 months.

I've been living in midtown for 1 month.

I've been out every weekend, and some weekdays, for at least 5 weeks.

And today I have a headache.

Over the past couple months I have perfected my social strategy. Go out early for happy hours, scope the scene, start finding out what everyone else is doing later that night. Check special events. Check with special people. Keep the drinks simple- beer, champagne, red wine- so that the energy stays up for later in the evening. Once you have plans for the night, stay aloof. Don't show up early. Have a drink in hand but keep it there- don't run out before another one is lined up, and keep a count. Always keep 10$ in your clutch for the cab ride home. Don't go home with anyone you don't want to go home with. Stay with your friends, but smile at everyone else. Especially the ones who are well dressed. Most importantly, don't take shots of anything but tequila. Trust that one. The next morning you'll thank me.

I know this drill! I've refined my knowledge and learned from the best. Now I'm on to learning the people, the important players, the important stuff about owning the city once the lights get twinkly. So why is it that I have had a horrible headache since 2am this morning? Because my body, tired as it may be every single day of the week, was confused. Confused as to why I was sleeping at 8pm and not getting into the shower and thinking about what to wear. Confused about why I was ignoring texts due to fatigue rather than due to inconvenience. Confused! I spent one night going to sleep early and I literally confused my body into a horrendous 20 hour headache.

And this headache is exactly why I need to go out tomorrow night.

Exactly why this caterpillar will eventually turn into that damn butterfly.

Welcome to my cocoon. Watch me grow.

L