Sad Songs Are Nature's Onions

"For the sickness, that be spreadin with the quickness Remedies, cousin I be doin on my enemies Penalty, then I drink forties to they memories" - "Release Yo' Delf" by Method Man

Friday, September 24, 2004

Boozin' It Up At The Ole Booze Bar

So last night, myself, a couple of co-workers, and various other rastabouts and vagabounds went to The Grawood Lounge to drink and make merry. The Grawood, or simply, "The Wood", as the kids call it, is the campus bar for my Alma Mater and current employer, Dalhousie University. The draft was plentiful and shitty (but also "cheep, cheep", like the budgie), and the pool was billiard-like. Pleasantries were exchanged, and joshes were had. A good time was had by all. Still, something bothered me about the whole experience. There is just something about that bar that really frosts my onions. So, here are...

The 5 Things I Dislike Most About The Grawood

  1. The New Look
    When I first came to Dal, the Grawood was located in the basement of the Student Union building, and its decor was much different than it is now. It used to be a somewhat cozy, pub-like little place, with wood everywhere (hence the name, I suppose). Since then, the bar has moved up one floor and had a complete overhaul of its look. Now it's all exposed pipes, industrial looking, uber-modern, and black. I once asked a server if the bar could be any more black, and she replied, "None. It could be none more black." Everytime I go in there for lunch I expect to be greeted by Trent Reznor. It certainly is a pretty drab look (especially at night), and doesn't really project "friendly student hangout" vibes.

  2. The "Entertainment"
    The Grawood rarely has live bands, and when they do, they are usually the shittiest variety of generic college rock cover bands that aren't even talented enough to grace the stage of the illustrious Pogue Fado. Apparently the The Superfriendz are coming in October, so maybe their getting they're act together on this front.

  3. Theme Nights
    "Foam Party Night". "Cowboys and Schoolgirls Night." "Frat & Sorority Date Rape Night". What a fucking joke. There are enough clubs in Halifax that have these sorts of theme nights, which in the end are basically excuses for drunken 20-somethings to dress as sluttily as possible and grope each other on a crowded dancefloor, while some shitty-assed DJ plays Top 40 pop and R&B garbage. Wow, that last statement came off as really bitter. I guess I'm not that far from sitting on my porch with a shotgun full of rock salt, yelling at neighbourhood kids to get off of my lawn.

  4. Tony Lee, The X-Rated Hypnotist
    Now, I realize that one performer does not have much to do with the quality of a bar, but this has to be said. If you've attended university in Canada in the last 10 years or so, you've probably seen (or at least heard of) this guy. He is a hypnotist/comedy/jack-ass, who does "raunchy and risque" shows at campus bars and clubs all over the country. The Grawood has him by at least twice a year, it seems. He takes a few dumb-asses out of the audience, hypnotizes them, and then proceeds to get them to do all manners of sexually suggestive and embarrassing things. "Oh look, those two homophobic frat boy jocks are 69'ing each other! How uproarious!" "What's this, that drunken young girl is pretending to do a pole dance? How clever..." This guy is about as funny as a kick in the taint.

  5. Two words: Pink. Wristbands.
    So I was in the bar for at least 2 hours last night, happily drinking my shitty draft and showcasing my amazing pool skills, when I decided to "freshen my drink", as the saying goes. When I get to the bar and ask the young lass for another beer, she says, "Oh, you have to have a wristband." "Pardon?" "Yeah, after 9 PM, you have to show your ID to the bouncer out front and get a wristband to show you are of age. It's a rule we have." This struck me as odd, as this same woman was serving me booze all evening and hadn't once asked for any proof of age. Still, I wanted another drink, so I bit the bullet. So, the rest of the night was spent walking around with this fruity little pink wristband on. Yeah, this is a great rule. Incidentaly, at least 4 or 5 people ordered drinks while I was at the bar, and none of them had wristbands on. I guess it pays to know people. Maybe the wristbands are a means of marking outsiders to the rest of the group. Fuck man, I'm way too cool for pink wristbands.


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