Castor Oil...sickeningly good

Friday, September 24, 2004

Fratmosphere - Don't worry about it!!!

After practice last night me and Phillip and Benjamin went by the bar where our friend Dave works to have some cocktails and talk about how truly magnificent band practice was and, (obviously), how anyone with a shred of musical taste should love us and want to have hot monkey sex with us as a collective.

<<<>>> - Despite the hordes and throngs of masses wanting to de-pants us at odd times (as befits rock superstars) like when we're in line at Subway we can't reciprocate because we're all otherwise occupied with ladies who don't subscribe to the "free love" paradigm. However we do thank you for your interest. Much love big props and MWAH all over you. <<<< END CAVEAT>>>>

Being properly wristbanded (Thanks Dave!) we steadfastly faithful and hetero men got some drinks (Thanks ultra-cute bartender girl!) and went to sit outside. Twas a lovely evening to enjoy the twilight it surely was. As we were sitting and being brilliant a small but exuberant crowd of young jaspers started to wander in. It was obvious they were affiliated with the TKE fraternity at George Mason because there were all sorts of TKE GMU paraphernalia clad youngsters milling around. Lots of goatees and Abercrombie and Dick baseball caps for the lads and chiquitas in short skirts who really should have worn pants and taken advantage of the low-carb offerings at Burger King but who am I to play Mr. Blackswell to a group of slutty sorority girls from Fairfax? I dutifully tried to mind my own business and work on the guaranteed roadmap to rock super stardom that we had started to formulate out of ashtrays and condiments on the table.

We kept getting interrupted by yelling. Now, I yell…really, who doesn’t. But when I yell I try to come up with something more witty than –

“NAW…NOT CHEW DAWG….NAW….DAMN WE GONNA GET CRUNK AS FUCK TAHNITE DAWG”.

Coming from a lily-white 19 year old skinny shithead from the patio of a bar in Fairfax it didn’t really resonate as well as I would imagine it would from say, 50-Cent yelling it out of the moonroof of a limo in D-Town (Detroit). Other notables –

“THERE’S MY HOLMES…THERE HE IS!!!”
“GIMME LOVE DAWG….GIMME LOVE!!!”

and the omnipresent”AWWW SHIT, SHIT’S ON NOW!!!!!”

All of this has led me to believe that the TKE fraternity is made up of a bunch of really loud, really confused and seriously gay white kids that really like the Source magazine and each other’s abdominal muscles. I could be wrong, maybe they like Vibe instead.

So we keep getting bumped into by these denim behatted and bust loose skirted folks and it becomes completely apparent that kids these days just can’t binge drink like they used to. There is an art to it, a panache to being fantastically obliterated that the youth of the nation just don’t have a handle on. I mean, some dope walked up to the table and just grabbed Phillip’s cigarettes, nothing on the sly just an upfront grab. I told him to knock it the fuck off and he just sheepishly put them back. What the fuck is that? Stealing smokes at a bar requires stealth, aplomb, diversion….these kids have none of those skills. Didn’t their parents have parties when they were kids where REALLY drunk military officers and their wives would set an example of how to perform when comatose drunk by medical definition?

So a bit later the smoke-thief comes up to Phillip and slurs “You’re no fun”. He stands there staring at us, we sorta start chuckling at him and one of his buddies crosses arms and says “don’t worry about it.” Worry about what?? That some thinly veiled gay meathead ab cruncher guy in Marshall’s euro-trash fashion thinks I’m no fun? I’m tons of fun. Ask anybody!!! If I’m going to worry about something it’s going to be like prostate cancer or how Dennis Farina will fit in on Law and Order, you know…important shit.

We packed it up a bit later, I was parked in front so headed back towards friend Dave to say so long and hit the road. As I was walking through the semi-barren club to the tunes of Jay-Z thumping I got a bit sad. What’s going to happen to the next generation of rock and roll? Not just the music but the whole atmosphere of people just having fun and being cool with who and what they are? Everything about last night was so posed. If the hammerheads in there were half as hardcore as they pretended to be we could ship TKE out to Iraq over Spring Break and have the insurgents tending bar at a Girls Gone Wild party by Thursday.

I said goodbye to Dave with a melancholy nod, he knew….lord he knew for he sees it all the time. Poor Dave, forced to sit by and watch as our future flexes and Usher songs their way to mediocrity. Truly he is a martyr and I hope he has fun with his 72 virgins in the next life.

But as I am all about solutions and not problems (can’t you tell??) I offer this up to you well rounded and excellent party people. I propose we all mentor a young person on how to party and not be a fucking asshole about it and I pledge to be the first into service.

I AM REPORTING FOR DUTY!!!! WE CAN DO BETTER!!!! HELP IS ON THE WAY YOU STUPID ASSHOLES!!!!

As soon as I’m OK to drive.

4 Comments:

  • haha. First post!!!

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 3:31 PM  

  • Just as bad is the khaki invasion happening on the Clarendon Corridor. Now I know all our good friends who we've all supported for the past 10 years and more can't turn down business but for instance on Sunday night, Chris, Dave and I go into the Galaxy after band practice to debrief and decompress. There are these two goombas flat out louder than the stereo, then the 10 people in the bar, then the 30 that show up to see Aquarium, a quirky indie afair. These guys were such masters of the obvious that they couldn't help but let everybody in the bar know that there was film being projected behind the band. They couldn't quite contain themselves during the perfomance that brought 40 people in to see, specifically see and hear, NOT a couple of bloozers who probably thought they would walk in and take over the bar and watch football all night. Fricking gibbering like 2 year olds after a Snickers bar during a really cool show. At least they paid their $38 bill, with $45, instead of pulling some bone head move like getting in a fight and getting kicked out and walking on the tab.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 7:25 AM  

  • That's just why I love it when the staff at Iota walks around telling people to shut the fuck up when bands are playing. It's a relief.

    By Blogger Castor OiL, at 7:35 AM  

  • Don't believe Castor. Three of his oldest friends have Frat tatoos on their asses. I'm about 4 months lat on this post, but hopefully someone reads it. I'd be the first to back Castor up against any other frat guy though. "They just can't binge drink like they used to"

    By Anonymous wheel, at 4:42 PM  

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