My Wednesday Night

I had been looking forward to this past Wednesday for about a month (probably even longer): the premiere bout at the Clash Of The Titans was Queen vs. David Bowie. Two of my favorites.

I had only been to one previous Clash: The Ramones vs. The Clash. The Ramones were great. The Clash...tried. I became frustrated because of these ridiculously long breaks the bands took between songs. Breaks which became longer as the night went on., prompting me to say "fuck it" and go to Ruski's. But I was informed that had been addressed and resolved (for the most part), so I was excited.

But first things first: Sofia had a rare Wednesday night off so she wanted to play some trivia at the public house.  I wrangled up Pook, Scotty, and Krysta, and the five of us triviaed hard (yup, I'm making up words now). Not hard enough, however, to win the whole kit and caboodle, not even enough to place second, but we did get third place. Juuuuuust enough to score free alcohol (which we decided to save for a later date) There were three of four correct answers that Scott suggested that we didn't go with, but we were five points out of second so I don't feel so bad about that.

There was also a raffle at Boru's, and the +17 Holy Avengers ended up winning three tickets to a Neon Trees show. I'm not exactly sure any of us have any interest in attending so I might try scalping them in front of the State Theater the night of the show. I'm bad to the bone!

Trivia was done with, and it was time to head over to Port City Music Hall for some rock and roll. The line was fucking long, and we feared we wouldn't get in. We fretted needlessly: the queue was slow-moving due to an ineffectual ticketing system.

We managed to get in and had plenty of time to shoot the shit because, even though the show was scheduled to begin at 10:00 things didn't get started until 10:50. Lame. I'm getting tired of this super late starting shit.

I'm not exactly sure what the hold up was. It certainly wasn't due to the Bowie band squeezing in some extra rehearsal time. They were atrocious. Absolutely fucking awful. Every single instrument, and the vocals, were out of sync. And it's not like those guys were just some musicians that decided to team up for this one gig. They're an actual band! Shameful.

I most definitely wasn't the only one unimpressed. After the Bowie band's second song, a butchering of "Queen Bitch," people headed for the exits. I won't go so far as to say they fled in droves, but there was a bit of a mass exodus.

The singer and guitarist is something of a rock star in Portland. Or at his adoring fans, and himself, think so. I suspect he fancies himself a big fish in a small pond, but the man is more like a moderately talented musician in a relatively small city. I never understood the appeal. And I still don't. I hope after the poor showing folks will stop drinking the Kool-Aid.

The Queen band was better. After (I thought) fun quasi-punk rendition of "We Will Rock You" and a sloppy "Tie Your Mother Down" I wasn't all that impressed. But the fellers got better with each song, and they finally found their groove. The singer was Freddie Mercury enough, and the guitarist decent (though in no way comparable to my favorite astrophysicist (take that, Hawking!)). I was teased with some hot licks from my favorite Queen song, but a tiny taste was all I got. For those keeping track "Keep Yourself Alive" is the song in question.

I also ran into a woman that I had met months ago from an online dating site. We went out twice and then slept together. A few days later she told me an ex had come into her life, and she wanted to see where it might go (but I was still "great" though). Fun.

After only about an hour, I felt underwhelmed at best and nauseous at worst. My desire to eat a shotgun was growing by the minute. This is why I don't try new places. This is why I don't try new places. Luckily a couple of friends felt the same way so Sofia, Luke, and I made like bananas and split. We started for Ruski's.

Along the way I had the pleasure of urinating outside. I meant this in all sincerity because I really enjoy pissing outdoors. Coupled with a full bladder and the awesome feeling of release that ensues, the experience truly is euphoric. My favorite place ever I had to abandon years ago once it became the back entrance for an art studio for children. My conscience just won't let me empty my bladder where small kids might travel, though it's a frequent haunt of High-Steppin' Bobby so the doorway is probably getting its fair share of bodily fluids. But my second favorite place is still in play, so that is where I chose to relieve myself: under the staircase on the side of the Fire Museum. And it was as wonderful as I remembered it being.

The three of us made it to Ruski's, meeting up with Eddy and Allen, who was, simply put, shit-faced. An off-duty bartender was leaving as I entered. She gave me a long hug, and she told me she loved me. She then went to give me one of those kisses not quite on the lips but just to the side. Y'all know what I'm talking about. But I drunkenly turned my head for some reason unbeknownst to me, and the kiss was full on the lips. Oops! It was accident, I swear!

A comfortable, familiar place with good friends and ass cold Pibbers. Exactly what this guy needed to drive the memory of Clash Of The Titans out of my skull.