First things first: Win a $75 credit to CSN Stores! Christmas shopping approved. Giveaway ends November 30. Enter, bishes.
I made it to the island last night. Neville Island, that is. I think I have a firm grasp on driving anywhere on 279, 65 and 19. It’s those even numbered highways that seemingly screw me up.
Upon first crossing the Mc Kees bridge into… I don’t know. Is this the actual Neville Island or is this Mc Kees Rocks? I felt like I was driving in a dirty, dirty part of the Jersey Shore, followed by a wrong turn in Gary, Indiana. I obviously don’t know much about this area of Pittsburgh, but am quite sure there is a lot of potential for cancer, what with miles-worth of industries and a smoke-filled sky. And a shit-ton of bars lining the main drag with smokers peppered around the doorways.
Ahem, GREAT AMERICAN SMOKEOUT today, you guys! (2 years, 3 months and 10 days for this quitter!)
That said, I hear there’s an amazing yacht club in these parts for summertime activities. On the island, that is. I’ll bring my own water bottle, however. And some dollar bills, as I passed a “gentleman’s” bar named Stickey’s or some shit that had a neon stripper leg on its building. Oh, and there’s a bar named… Shooters.
If that doesn’t sound like some serious douchebag fun, I don’t know what is. Bring your Affliction, haters.
This post AKA: football and ridiculous shoe choices.
A couple of weeks ago, we participated in our first Steelers tailgate since the move.
I only go for the party.
And to laugh and roll my eyes at girls who wear leggings-are-not-pants and five-inch heels to a parking lot filled with misogynist drunks and a steady stream of beer puddles. Go on with your bad-ass self (and your nice ass).
Anyways, I enjoy that the cops are friendly enough to engage with the crowds and encourage fans to have fun (by also being responsible… and perhaps welcoming kids and hootchies alike to pose on cop motorcycles). Nobody was overwhelmingly annoying, and when you’re slightly sober, everyone is hilarious: saw plenty o’ people peeing publicly, which is a given. Hard core make-out session too, with a bunch of hootin’ and hollerin’ voyeurs to boot. One of the BEST tailgate bars my eyes have ever seen — this guy had a full bar, with beer taps, a spinning shot machine, a stage for beer races and a keg stand and full set of speakers. That guy was awesome (and he definitely knows it).
Also: red cups not required.
After the game (why do so many of my sentences begin with “A”?), we had snacks at Bettis’ — it’s nice this place is located on the river, but the game delay from the stadium to the ghetto-rigged patio TVs became annoying.
Only one thing more annoying than that: my shoes sticking to the ground of the next bar we went to.
Or the line for the bathroom, with a massive quantity of girls who didn’t (drunkly) understand.
Or the additional hoochies dancing all Coyote Ugly-like on the bar. *groan*
While I’m not too old for tailgating, this shit? So over it.
We watched the rest of the game at Sharp Edge downtown — and at just the right moment to be awarded an 86-cent draft when Ward scored a touchdown… wee!
No, seriously. I was handed this by a volunteer during the Marcellus Shale Project rally downtown yesterday.
Way to save the Earth, by preventing future Capitalists. Point: Planned Parenthood.
By the by, I thought at first, they were handing me free birth control (right, that would never happen)… but way to update the pill holder to total awesomeness:
During our visit home this past weekend, we took part in the closing ceremony of Cleveland Beer Week: BREWzilla. While I would have liked to take part in the smaller, more intimate events scheduled, this party is still a great way to celebrate a birthday with 80+ of your closet brewery friends (ahem, AB’s). Having high expectations from last year’s debut event — which I wrote about several times — it was now my year to nit-pick. You know, now that I have a few beer and whiskey tasting events under my belt.
And my tolerance (not for the drinking, even though that certainly has its challenges) has hit an all-time low. Perspective. I haz it.
First things first, I’m not certain of the reasons for changing venues (there was a wedding in the Hyatt that night though, as warned by the front desk clerk), I’m not that big a fan of events held at The Galleria. Why do we need this ginormous space? While I appreciate having enough room to put my elbows on my hips with utter disdain while complaining about everyone, why does EVERYONE even need to be there? Can CBW somehow cap ticket sales to make it more exclusive and set in smaller venues? I know the drinking events here in Pittsburgh sell out QUICK — two months in advance — but it keeps them worth the cost, I think. Also, The Galleria is DARK, especially in certain corners, which I really only recommend for the band’s staging area. Which was located in the middle of everything. And OMG, skinny escalators when inebriated is a genuine bucket list experience.
And then I said: Self, WHERE IS THE FUCKING COAT CHECK? Oh yes, I am that pissed about it, that I’m swearing on my blog today. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for adults who are paying $50 or $75 per ticket, attending an event in CLEVELAND at the end of October, that there be a designated location for such. Granted, it wasn’t snowing, but I was walking AND it was raining, so I needed to wear a light jacket. I’m no longer 21, running into bars in open-toe heels and sleeveless tops — and I sure as hell wasn’t stuffing my coat behind a garbage can. I couldn’t wear it either because even in my light sweater, it was hot as the sweaty port-o-pots. Uh, yeah, I won’t even TOUCH this part of the night, as I suppose it’s my own hang-up. Whatevs. Regardless, I had to use the restaurant’s coat rack upstairs in the VIP section (thankfully, which my tickets covered the makeshift accommodations), and by my guess-timation was NOT enough space for the coats of 1,200+ people. Was it blind neglect? Was it undue pain and suffering for carrying a clutch in the first place? Was I really expected to just “stash it” or worse, carry it with me all night?
So, when I arrived through registration (again, with serious line mishaps much like last year), this was my inventory: my purse, a drinking glass, tickets (that thankfully were on a lanyard, but I needed my own hands free to tear off), a free t-shirt… and my coat. Also, I would count my iPhone as an extension to all that, so I could log all my tastes into the awesome Beerby app (lifeliberty, FYI). It was a constant juggling act, even without my coat. And there was nowhere to set my things down for a second to even put my ID back into my wallet. Unless you count the food court. Last year, there were scattered tables throughout the Arcade. THIS IS NECESSARY! Sometimes you just gotta put shit down for a second.
Also, for the second year in a row, I missed the food. At Pittsburgh’s Big Pour (which I attended in September), the food is commingled with the beer, not separated into its own section. I think this would be more appropriate, convenient and a better opportunity to incorporate the selections from local restaurants — whether specifically beer paired or not (although I opt for the former). Lilly’s Chocolate did a FANTASTIC job of this! Use this as example. And the VIP buffet line? Completely picked through before 7 o’ clock hit. I went back twice to a nearly empty table, so I’m not certain if there were ever refills of food.
Was there water somewhere? I saw none. NOT A SINGLE BOTTLE OF WATER at a drinking event. I consider this a massive fail. And again, if it was served in the “food section,” this needs to be reconsidered. Most brewery tables didn’t have dump buckets and water pitchers set up either, so I imagine most brewers assumed the party planning commission would have attended to this, instead of bringing their own.
All that complaining aside, BREWzilla is still a fine drinking event if you want to experience several different craft brews. We did try quite a few new-to-us or un-distributed/un-bottled beverages. And I’m really excited about Rooster Fish’s Hop Warrior (even if they need to start distributing to PA). I also picked up a four-pack of vintage Goose Island’s Bourbon County bottles dating back to 2006 in the silent auction (and AB got his stupid New Holland boot). But if I go back to Cleveland next year for Beer Week, I will likely be making reservations for some of the smaller tasting and unique dinner events.
Did you go to BREWzilla? Thoughts, comments, suggestions to make the event an even better success in future years?
Side note: I won tickets from a Cleveland blogger for this event (for which I am incredibly grateful), so I did not pay anything to attend this year. I DID, however, pay for last year. So, I’m just trying to put myself into YOUR wallet-emptying shoes.
As many of you Internet and Social Media Whores know, today is National Coming Out Day — a day for allies of the community to ensure peace, love, diversity, solidarity, civil rights and sexless marriages to all.
I’m not here to fight for my piece of the LGBT (and sometimes Q) pie, only that we need equality no matter your sexual, gender or Borne identity. I wouldn’t mind coming back as Jason Borne… you? Add to that, we need more than JUST a day. This is something that needs wholly embraced by the gay or straight (and yes, in between) public no matter the date on a calendar.
Which leads me to an interesting story when we took a visit to South Bend, Indiana this summer. For a friend’s birthday celebration, we hit the local gay bar for Drag Night. It’s a magical night out where rarely does a person feel guilt for making out with friends in public. And you know, some hilarious fun and entertainment. There was the “MC” Drag Queen, announcing the acts for the evening, as well as giving shout-outs to the gay boys, lesbians, transexuals, drunks… shit, even the local roller derby team. But when I called out bisexual — not once, but twice (with a woo!) — I was completely snubbed.
Like, OMG YOU DO NOT EXIST! *Drag Queen death stare*
Be gone figment of my Party Bisexual Imagination.
Outside in the “real world,” it’s a given that there will be eye rolling. Or video cameras. While certainly the least of first world problems, it’s disheartening and sad being dissed by your (supposed) own community. My point being is that there are several tiers of identity, and that your “label” might not correlate completely with mine — what I might identify with, another might find somehow “wrong” or inappropriate.
But shouldn’t this disparity be the beauty of the LGBT community? That we are accepted, no matter what our outward appearance or behavioral experiences (or whomever is on my arm) might display. As far as my life is concerned, I’ve completed my search, attempting to “fit” in somewhere. No thanks to National Coming Out Day (which would have been nice to have when I WAS struggling some 15 years ago as a young adult), it took me YEARS to find a comfortable place and acceptance with my identity. Even as recently as a couple years ago.
Hopefully, if you are struggling, you learn to accept yourself (I sincerely hate to hear that others are facing a multitude of ignorance, bullying and general fear in everyday life) — as I’ve learned that certain approval from others occurs as a result… regardless of the turned up noses in some seriously sexy heels.
By the way, I am a ring-wearing member of this fabulous organization.