[Hania's Scrapbook] The Speakeasy

by **Hania** on June 29th, 2010, 9:42 pm

So amongst the numerous outlets I have for writing and creativity depletion it seems I'm in need on just one more. However, I'll be keeping this particular virtual area of input happy.....-ish. I can't be without my grim sense of reality for too long, not good for my brains. BUT, like I said, I know other people might be perusing through here and I don't want to be throwing cosmic sized rainclouds over their ray of sunshine. That's just not cool. So here's the plan for this thread; I'll be posting funny little things I find on the web because it's funny stuff, putting up anecdotes of my own stupidity or stories that elicit a few giggles, maybe a short story here and there. Who knows, it's a Speakeasy. But then again, they say if you plan god laughs.

Crap, first paragraph and I can't keep the dark humor out. Ok, promise, nothing like that for at least two more posts. Other wise rules are simple. I like talk, goofing off, and discussions on an intellectual level. Immaturity is fun, if your mature about it. Just saying respect and solidarity go a long way with this dude right here. Rp talk is cool, movie talk is really cool, and philosophical babble is Shway. Though I'll be keeping my own philosophical rants out of this place, since I have a blog squirreled away in the net for things like that. But please, feel free to post what you will here. It's a Speakeasy. A place to drop by and just let everything stay at the door, have fun, and enjoy some good company.

And as my first act as the Evil King Sidekick Twin..two funny youtube things. Because it's my scrapbook and I get firsties.

Vader bit has a little racial slurs, so just saying I don't support 'em, but they be there all the same.

by **Hania** on July 1st, 2010, 4:25 pm

To be or not to be, that is the question. THAT is possibly the stupidest question in existence....besides "Are you O.K?" Because everyone knows when you ask the are you ok question someone is obviously, usually painfully, and unequivocally, not-ok. I hate that question. No, I really do hate that question.

I was on a wave once, in the winter, and you have to understand that Atlantic Ocean waves...here...on the east coast...in winter...kick-your-ass. They aren't like west coast waves that are big and chunky and roll you just because of their sheer size. The little five foot waves here wake up and go "Ooooh, wow, slept really good. God I hope some dumb ass gets in the water today, I really have the energy to ruin days right now." And Wave's buddy, Tide, goes "Yeah I know. Me too. Oh look, it's that long haired dipshit again. Hey, tell you what, I'll pull him this way and you can throw him the other way." And then, me being the long haired dipshit, go willynilly trompling and paddling out into the breaks. Now mind you, in winter I ride a body board.

Quick lesson in body boards- They're shorter than surf boards. Usually about head to waist to upper thigh size and slick on the bottom. You lay on them, like on your chest and stomach. The waves comes up and you kiss your rear end goodbye because one of two things is going to happen.

1- your going to have the ride of your life. The wave is going to break just perfect, with that glassy face and insane almond tube to let you zip up and down, all around, and shoot off to the side at 15+ miles an hour when your done.

2- The wave is going to pick you up, carry you in the crest (The white frothy part at the top of the wave) and then roll on it's self, catching you in the falls (when the white frothy part rolls over onto the bottom of the wave) And you, not having a super stable flotation device goes "hehehemommy*Crunch*" because your body is being tossed around like a rag doll in a washing machine.

So why ride a body board- Because the pay off of a good wave, the repeated punishment of the bad waves, and the feeling of being so close to the ocean your litterally part of it, instead of taming it, is worth every single second.

I ride a body board in winter because the waves are smaller, meaner, and faster than what my surfboard can handle. SO....willynilly trompling out in the water, my friend just behind me, and we're out their catching some decent rides. Then out of the ocean's blue butt hole comes this massive ten foot, froth spraying, water sucking, roaring wave.......and I can't resist. I want on that wave so bad I can't even describe it. Well I get on it and I'm doing good until I start to feel the elevator go up, so now I'm on the crest of this monster wave, twenty two feet off of the ocean floor racing towards the shore where it bottoms out into about two and a half feet of water. The wave hits the shelf where water depths change and rolls. My board was sucked down into the vortexes, I flew forwards, my leash attached to the board pulled me back into the wave and my body was pounded into wet sand. But for some reason my brain was going "OHEMGEEEE THIS IS SO FUN ^^"

I get up and the guy I'm out their with comes screaming and hooting up to my side on another wave. "DUDE, did you see that? You got thrashed man, you ok? Your shoulder looks a little weird." I look down and see this really odd bubble looking thing right about where my clavicle is. "I was in the wave dude, of course I saw it. It frelling kicked my tushy." Then this shoryuken wind sucking sound caught in my ears and I just caught the sight of my "Friend" hauling back and slamming his hand into the mysterious bubble. *Pop* I look down and the bubble is gone, well the wave had dislocated my clavicle bone and Mr. Falcon Punch here socked it back into place for me. "Whoa man, are you ok? That sounded like it hurt. Did it hurt?" Of course it frinkin hurt but I didn't have time to tell him such because the sister of that evil body part dislocating wave was rearing her ugly head and.......I had to be on that wave too. But that one turned out fantastic, I was in the tube for about forty seconds. So dislocated collarbone that still pains me to this day- totally worth those forty seconds of bliss.

But, like, that "Are you ok?" question...still not jiving very well. Ask "Where are you hurt?" instead. It doesn't sound so moronic, unless the person has obviously bent their knee 90 degrees the wrong way. In which case said person is obviously not ok, and you can clearly see where the pain is localized. That's when you thank your stars is them and not you, and run off to get them a shot of whiskey 'cause they'll really need it.

So where was I? Oh, to be or not to be. Second stupidest question in the verse. Be. No two ways about it. Be. If you choose not to be you give up. You lose, you fail, you do not pass go and collect 200 dollars. You lose the game. You took the easy way out, cheated. Don't be afraid to fight for every shred of existence you have. It's yours, take it and keep it. People might wonder why you are being sometimes but you know what....who cares? Your here. Right now, your here. Right now this very second you are being and defying everything that is trying to make you not be. Always be, tomorrow you might cross the street and WHAM, not be. But at least then you didn't have a choice in the matter. Don't cheat, don't buckle in. Be.

That's where I was going with all of that.

by **Hania** on July 4th, 2010, 7:43 pm

Am I an alcoholic? No. Am I a bar fly? Yes. Do I get drunk? No, never have, never will. Do I like a drink every now and then? Yes. In fact I'm a rum connoisseur, beer brewer, and party goer.

Simply put, I love being at the bar or in the company of people having a good time.

I went out last night and it was just one of those nights that reminded me of why it's so awesome. What you have to know is I live in a resort town, 3,500 residents in the winter.....250,000 in the summer. Big change. So naturally there are bars all over the place but there's these two joints two blocks down from me that are everything a bar should be. Now everybody can get into one of them and it's a fun place to be. But the second place is actually sunken 4 feet into the ground, and the entrance is down this really grimy alley.

It's a hard drinking bar, meaning there isn't much to do except play on the single pool table, drink, and talk. It's a rough crowd in there and fights break out ending up with people hurt or carted away in ambulances, but it's where I feel at home, comfortable. Everyone has a story to tell and none of them boring.

Last night I ended up playing pool with two couples and two other strangers. One couple was back packing from New York down to Florida, where they would take a boat to Antarctica for a research gig they landed down there. I mean SERIOUSLY. They were hiking the entire eastern seaboard and then committing to a two year stay in Antarctica! Wha?....Who does that? But I played pool with them; we had a shot of Wild Turkey together.

The other couple had just flown back from a three month visit to Croatia. They woke up one day, said "Hey, lets go to Croatia." And *Snatch like plane flights later* Boom. In Croatia. Wtf? The trip was supposed to last a week but they just kept dragging it out. I shared a beer with them! Random vacationers, how novel.

This other guy was an electrician in Alaska who came all the way down here to buy a motorcycle, and ride it all the way back to Alaska again. Dude. He gets paid $42 an hour up there for just running house hold electric lines; of course prices are relative.

And the last chick was a combat medic for a PMC, but I never made a point of asking which one; she was on leave and who wants to talk about their job on leave? I had two shots of bubble gum vodka, a beer, and she finagled a kiss at the end of the night. She was also the only one that went game for game with me all night. Impressed doesn't seem to work.

But I was there, and they were there, all of us together, sharing stories and laughs. No one is forgetting that night.

When I go out to the bar I drink with strangers, wanderers, and lonely hearts. Heathens, ruffians, criminals, evil men, black sheep, and scallywags. Bootleggers, floozies, strippers, and working women. Red necks, blue collar boys, carnies, truckers, and migrant workers. Down trodden cops, boozed up firefighters, nostalgic navy seals, active army dogs, Vietnam veterans. Motherless sons, fatherless daughters, homeless orphans, wandering widowers, sleep around wives, and broken brothers and sisters. People on the down side of up, and the brighter side of bad. Lowlifes, thugs, moral less monsters, trailer trash, and simple men. The 1% bikers, Hells Angles, Pagans, Sons of Silence, and Outlaws. But all of us, every one, are all the same breed. Stray Dogs.

And just for that one night, those few hours in a grungy hard drinking bar, at 2am on that foggy beach town night, we were together. We were there. Amidst all our own problems and pickles we forgot the way of the world and connected to have fun. I kissed a female war junkie, shook hands with a man from Alaska, talked to millionaires, and gave hugs and best of lucks to researchers. Then....we were gone. Memories in the mind of someone else, all walking down our own roads, running our own lives, never to see each other again. Strangers had made each other laugh, and happy.

And that's why I love going out. Because those kinds of things only happen in a bar.

by **Kelpie** on July 5th, 2010, 6:46 pm

Here Hanhan, have some more D'espairsray because you're just so amazingly awesome. <3 You just really have a great life, and I kinda wish I was in your position hehe.

KEEP MEETING THOSE CREEPERS IN THE BAR HANHAN. But don't get kidnapped k?

by **Hania** on July 9th, 2010, 5:56 am

OMG. Guys!

Guys!

Omg

guys, seriously, you gotta hear this. I just got back from the craziest russian party ever.

*But first of all, you need to know I didn't drink a single drop so I was stone cold sober. Hence, I remember it all clearly*

So there's this Russian girl that works in the kitchen with me. She's really cool. Like, honestly, a really neat person to know. She's going to be a sports newscaster in Russia, and she was already a model, and she's the manager for four pizza shops, tosses pizza by hand, and she breakdances. Yeah, I know right? Well anyway it was her birthday today. So I always take care of my girls (the girls that work for our shop) and I took her around to all the crap she needed to throw this party. And before you say it, my birthday present was the booz, I'm a bad influence. Get over it.

So drop her off at her place with another waitress that works for us, she's insane, and go about my business for a few hours. Go back to the apartment around 9 and that's when this insane, out of control, Skins style party exploded. I mean this party was mondo outta hand.

I got there and they all started saying happy birthday.
Now apparently, in Russia, when you say happy birthday to someone you make a toast to them. Everyone has a drink after each toast, so by the time seven people go around you've got a buzz. They didn't know I speak Ruski xD. They all start to leave and I bust out with this speech, in russian, about how cool this chick is. They're all dumbfounded, and me being a good driver didn't have anything to drink, so I had to make the crazy waitress drink. What I didn't know is she hadn't eaten all day. Yeah. Not good. Ten minutes later she's throwing her shoes at me for some reason, one which I still don't know.

So this russian party kicks off with them swarming me with ten thousand questions "Do you know such and such word" "Do you know this word" "Say this sentence" "Translate this song" "Where did you learn russian" "Do you have a russian wife" <--- Made me laugh.

So I'm trapped in the corner of the room trying to fend off curious, drunk, russian kids and out of the corner of my eye I see....fire. I look- Some pill popping, shot slamming hussy just lit her bra on fire and is running around like Look At Me! One of the dudes picks her up, walks her out on the balcony, and tosses her over the side. Into a canal I didn't know was there. Talk about a mind screw. It got worse.

People were kissing people they didn't know, more clothing got set on fire, shots were literally flying through the air, there was a food fight in the kitchen, some girl was trying to prove she knew how to be a stripper, this other guy was dancing with the wall.....And all of this to fucking Snow Patrol. One of the slowest, most laid back bands in history. I don't know how it was possible, but it happened.

I slip outside to take a breather but end up talking to these two pretty cool dudes. One has the old suspenders, rolled up jeans, suspenders, greaser look to him. The other guy looks like a typical blond ruski tough guy. Well low and behold they're Russian Mafia. And they think I'm cool. Come to find out 3/4 of the guys there are Mafia. Well, I live on the other side of the tracks but I know what the russian mob does in this town and I need no part of it.

So I grab my two girls and we're just about out the door when someone knocks on it. I didn't even have to look I just turned around and headed back out the back door. Two knocks later and BOOSH! Firemen and police come swarming into the apartment. Well I've ninjad us out the back door and into the next apartment. The next apartment is full of frelling hippies. Thank god for hippies. They lets us chill and wait out the search and seizure next door, I got a number from a hippie girl :nod:

She liked mah long flowing locks.

So after the police leave we pile into my car and start to go home. Half way home I see this police cruzer hit the lights behind me. Pull over, look at the waitress puking out of the passenger side window, the birthday girl crying her eyes out in the back seat.....I start rehearsing my lines. Next thing I know there's a .45 in my face and a gauge pointing through the other window.

"Freeze!"
"Frozen."
"Don't be a smart ass."
"M'kay."
"Are you transporting any illegal cigarettes in your car?"
Now...I know I'm scott free by this point. But for some reason all I do is get this really stoned look on my face and I go,
"Dude....wait, what?"

:|

Then from the other side I hear,
"This is an Aztek. We were supposed to be looking for a 4 runner."
"How'd you guys get that mixed up?"
"I really don't know. This is a nice car though."
"Yeah, what kind of sound system do you have in here?"
"Pioneer, it came stock with Pontiacs."
"Damn, shame they went out of business. Well, sorry about the mix up."

So now I'm being forced to sleep in my kitchen. My bed is taken by the birthday girl since her night was ruined, and the puking waitress is hugging the toilet- but sleeping on the couch when she's done.

Yep.

Just another night. Work in five hours so G'night everybody

by **Hania** on July 14th, 2010, 5:43 am

Ya'll wanna hear something weird? I don't care, y'are anyway 'cause this is MAH scrapbook.

Five years of college. Five full time student status years. Three of them majoring in philosophy, minor in psychology. Last two years major in business managment, minor in psychology, filled in the free time with philosophy. I was literally driving from my apartment to the campus to go take my last test before I got my degree and I realized something.

I had spent, up to that point, thousands of dollars on higher education. But I have to say it was best described in Good Will Hunting.

"See the sad thing about a guy like you, is in about 50 years you’re gonna start doin' some thinkin' on your own and you’re gonna come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life. One, don't do that. And two, you dropped a hundred and fifty grand on a flippin’ education you coulda' got for a dollar fifty in late charges at the Public Library."

Then the dude says something about serving fries and Matt goes,

"Yeah, but at least I won't be unorigional."

You know what? Frakin' A, man.

I went to my philosophy class and I had already learned all the crap the tough for those first three years. I knew it, front and back; both from experience and from reading. I paid a couple grand just to go in and bombard my teacher with questions that were way beyond the class level? Where's the sense in that? Psychology was cool but again, I knew 75% of it, and if I didn't know it I sure as hell knew the material the next day I came into class. I ended class early on three separate occasions because I was asking my proff detailed questions that required her to deviate from the simplistic class outline she was teaching. She got mad, told me if I was so smart to get up and teach the class. I got up, taught the class everything she was going to plus the next two chapters in one hour flat. Of course she ripped me a new hole to breath out of, though she was within her rights to do so, but that's when I began to really question college.

Half way through last year I picked up a part time night shift job at this great little bar I know. I learned more in the first four weeks there, than I ever did in five years of college. I can quote verbatim, Sartre, Marx, Horney, Freud, Skinner, Aristotle, Tzu, Kirsteva, and about thirty others. I'm not stupid. I know that. And that's all I need to know so I turned my car around and I've never graduated college. And I've never regretted it, but I don't have regrets and that's another story.

It's the height of stupidity to look for the donkey your already riding on. I had put in time and money I'll never get back only to find that what I thought college could give me was the donkey I was already on.

I'm not telling everyone to skip college. Some jobs you need the degree, some people need college, and some people...well...college is college, give it a try anyway.

I'm happy to work in the morning, make drinks in the evening, and surf in between. I like having my first drink of the day at 10am on days off, just as the sun peeks over the yardarm.

So here...

The Yardarm Recipe :

Aaaand I'm done for the night. Real posting tomorrow.

by **Hania** on July 18th, 2010, 5:32 am

Not really sure what SyFy is trying to do to themselves these days. Tell you what though, driving people off with $50 is working somehow.

by **Hania** on August 3rd, 2010, 3:58 am

So...long story short I picked up another bar job today at a different bar, and while waiting to be interviewed by the boss I talked with the bartender (Who was bored senseless) And this is what we came up with.

The Art of Man

Never wait at the velvet rope.

Don't bathe for a week.

Risk my life in Nepal.

Get paid what I'm worth.

More 4-65 A/C.

Have my own entourage.

Tell the boss what I think of him.

Follow my damn fortune cookie.

Bleed more.

Collect more scars.

Skate where I want to.

Find out if they're real.

Start a cool protein diet.

Be nicer to the guy at the gym.

Be meaner to myself in workouts.

Take a leak on Rt. 66.

Remember my roots.

Adopt a chick-magnet fuzz ball.

Flavor my own vodak.

Forget her.

Track down those jeans she took.

Defend my title.

Get that piercing.

Share my soul.

Screw it, and never grow up.

Punch a gorilla in the face.

Yep. I think that about covers it. I dunno, I just had to share this with y'all 'cause it makes so much sense....or at least mos-...hal-...nearly half of it does.

The Man Song :

by **Mao** on August 5th, 2010, 8:06 am

Just saying, I saw that Sharktopus on someone's iphone in my english class. It must be fate that you posted it here.... >_>

by **Hania** on August 5th, 2010, 5:11 pm

Nah, I'm just that good.