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

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

Thanksgiving, muthafuckas, do you speak it!?

I am so fucking tired right now. Seriously.

Friday: Luckily for me, Pa was at a conference in New Glasgow till Friday morning, so he was gracious enough to drive into Halifax to pick up his darling son. Before we left the big city we stopped at the Mic Mac Beverage Room in Dartmouth. I opted for the chicken and rib combo with mashed potatoes, and ended up having 4 beer. This defintely set the tone for the weekend. Friday night was Gobblefest and The Windom Earle All-Stars. I didn't catch most of the bands, since I was too busy schmoozing and boozing at the back of the bar. Then the All-Stars got up. Shit was goin' off. They had at least 10 people on stage, and all of them were complete lunatics. Add to this that the Maple Leaf is about the size of a large walk-in closet, and some of the nuttiest Sydneyites this side of Australia, and you have the makings of a wild ass show. I scored a free CD, so that was a bonus as well. This was followed, of course, to the requesite visit to Smooth Herman's, the diviest dive that ever there was. More drinking was had at this fine establishment (note to the barstaff at Herman's: a monkey can mix a proper Gin & Pineapple. You guys aren't dumber than a monkey, are you?). Soon later was bedtime. Approximately 5:00 AM. It begins.

Saturday: Saturday began harmlessly enough, with a Cape Breton Screaming Eagles hockey game. It was a good game (1-1 tie). However, I do take umbrage with the team's choice of name. I'm no animal zoolocologist, but I'm pretty sure that eagles can't scream. After the game I headed out with my twin and his pallies for some downtown Sydney party action. First we went to a friend's house, where food and beverages were consumed. Barbequeued salmon and pork ribs. Thank god I'm not a vegetarian. One of Brendan's buddies almost blew his hand off lighting a firework that went wrong. My ears were buzzing for a good 2 minutes. Welcome to Cape Breton. Then we headed to beautiful downtown Sydney. Pretty much every bar was packed, so we had to opt for one of Sydney's newer bars, The Rum Jungle. This place sucks so much ass. For residents of Sydney, think low-class Capri. For residents of Halifax, think low-rent Palace. For residents of elsewhere, think low-rent shittiest bar in town. That being said, the drinks were cheap (and plentiful). Any port in a storm. This was an early night, as I got to bed at the reasonable hour of 2:30 AM.

Sunday: Sunday night was looking to be tons o'fun. Myself, my brother, his friend Aaron, and the parentals were all going to go to the Celtic Colours Festival Club in St. Ann's. For those that don't know, Celtic Colours is a huge festival of Celtic music and culture that takes place all over Cape Breton. The Festival Club takes place every night, from 11:00 PM - 3:00 AM, at the Gaelic College in St. Ann's. It's basically an after hours party where the various festival performers can come and have sort of a loose jam. Think really big house party. With a really well-stocked bar. Before heading out there, Brendan, Aaron, and I went out to Aaron's cabin out in Kempt Head for some pre-Festival Club festivities. The parental units picked us up on the way, and we were off. Awesome music abounded, as did the booze. Saw some old friends (hi Beth-Ann!), drank my face off, sat by the fire... just like my homeboy Jay-Z said, it's a hard-knock life. Sleep came at roughly 6:00 AM.

Monday: Bus. Back in Halifax. Too tired for rational thought. Sleepytime at 11:30 PM. Goodnight.


2 Comments:

  • At 8:35 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    But Iain, the Rum Jungle sounds like such a classy place to drink. You can't mean that it actually is the new hub of sketchiness for the East Coast.

    Survivor: Cape Breton. Outwit, Outlast, Outdrink.

     
  • At 8:16 AM, Blogger iaingillis said…

    I have 3 words for the Young, Dumb, & Full Of Rum Jungle: Young. Drunk. Skanky.

    Seriously, if the kids in this place are 19, I must be 35. They did have $2 White Russians though, so what are ya gonna do?

    By the way, Mr./Ms. Anonymous, it helps if you leave your name (or at least some clues) in your comments, so I know who to send letter bombs to if you write something that pisses me off. :)

     

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