“D”-day! “D”-Day!! (Culture on hiatus)
Ok, so I spent the whole weekend drunk and hungover, often simultaneously. Not proud of it, and it was far from any cultural redemption my city was serving up over the weekend. Actually, to be fair, one could call the bar at the W hotel a museum of sorts: A wax museum (you know, of fake people)? a museum of JAPpery?? a museum of doucbebaggery??? all of the above, perhaps? Hard to say, really. Truthfully, it wasn’t half bad. I’m not a regular there, and it was a fun departure from the so-called hipster hangouts I tend to populate. 2 for 1 mooseheads were replaced by 1-for-3 martinis. Fashionably dingy t-shirts were replaced by popped collars all around. The Strokes were replaced by 4-on-the-floor dance beats (you know, awesome eurotrash club anthems with lyrics like “I feel the love in the beat tonight!”, or “I love to hear the beat in the night!”, or perhaps “Beat the shit out of me with your love tonight!”) Most notably, hipster Betties were replaced by incredibly well-groomed Barbie dolls. Both very hot, I must admit.
Earlier that night my boy Christopher celebrated his 28th birthday in high Greek style (“SUCCESS!”) at Mythos, a place where both succulent lamb and desperate cougars were in high supply. Admittedly, the cougars were only visible as we passed through the bar on the way up to the restaurant – but their Chanel # 5 and heavy, tart-like make-up made their presence felt throughout the establishment.
But on to the big news of the week: D-day! As in Door Day! As in: I’m finally getting a muthafuckin’ door up in my lair. Ladies, take a number indeed. My door, or lack of one thereof, has been a subject of both folly and contention amongst my friends and family. To them, it is a constant reminder that I am lazy - to a fault. I’ve lived in my shared apartment for 1.5 years - doorless years. How was I able to do it? Curtains and shamelessness, my friends. Shamelessness when I was changing, shamelessness playing lousy guitar, and shamelessness when I was entertaining some lady-company. I wonder what life will be like with a door? Will I read more, because the previously inescapable din of the living room TV will now be inaudible? Will I take less pride in the appearance of my room, because I will now have a door to hide my messiness? Follow-up question: is it even possible for my room to be any messier than it is already? With my newfound privacy, will I be more inclined to "rough up the suspect"? Follow-up question: Is it physiologically possible to "rough up the suspect" more than I already do? Forgive this juvenile digression...I will catch you guys on the other side…OF MY DOOR!
FS
PS: happy holidays y’all.
Earlier that night my boy Christopher celebrated his 28th birthday in high Greek style (“SUCCESS!”) at Mythos, a place where both succulent lamb and desperate cougars were in high supply. Admittedly, the cougars were only visible as we passed through the bar on the way up to the restaurant – but their Chanel # 5 and heavy, tart-like make-up made their presence felt throughout the establishment.
But on to the big news of the week: D-day! As in Door Day! As in: I’m finally getting a muthafuckin’ door up in my lair. Ladies, take a number indeed. My door, or lack of one thereof, has been a subject of both folly and contention amongst my friends and family. To them, it is a constant reminder that I am lazy - to a fault. I’ve lived in my shared apartment for 1.5 years - doorless years. How was I able to do it? Curtains and shamelessness, my friends. Shamelessness when I was changing, shamelessness playing lousy guitar, and shamelessness when I was entertaining some lady-company. I wonder what life will be like with a door? Will I read more, because the previously inescapable din of the living room TV will now be inaudible? Will I take less pride in the appearance of my room, because I will now have a door to hide my messiness? Follow-up question: is it even possible for my room to be any messier than it is already? With my newfound privacy, will I be more inclined to "rough up the suspect"? Follow-up question: Is it physiologically possible to "rough up the suspect" more than I already do? Forgive this juvenile digression...I will catch you guys on the other side…OF MY DOOR!
FS
PS: happy holidays y’all.
posted by filthy soapbox at 9:10 AM
2 Comments:
You are a genious writer! Love your blog!!
you described the Mythos scene very well. I'm quite impressed. Not so impressed with the cougars and chanel 5 cologne. It's a shameful side of Greek-canadian culture that flourishes in Chomedey, Laval.
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