Tag Archives: happy hour madness

Dive Bar Memories: why I’ll miss The Canterbury when it closes

Canterbury Pirate

DRINK MORE! YARRRR

There have been rumors for a while, but last month, the Capitol Hill Seattle Blog posted that The Canterbury would be closing at the end of the year for SURE. *sob*

After living for over 10 years in a horrifyingly depressing apartment just south of Everett (where my car got stolen not once, but twice), my roommate and I made a pact to save money and get ourselves the hell out of the ‘burbs and back into the city. Because OHMYGOD THE CITY. We lucked out and found a cheap’ish apartment on 19th & Roy, which just happened to be the perfect stumbling distance from The Canterbury on 15th.

It didn’t take long before The Canterbury was my home as much as my apartment was.  Sticky, dark, and (loosely) Medieval-themed with mismatched chairs and tables, it was the perfect place to drink yourself silly, soak up the booze with a greasy cheeseburger and a giant plate of fries—and then start all over again. For the five years that I lived in that apartment, it was where I planted myself at least 2-3 times a week. Continue reading

Advertisements

The 2012 Clothing Experiment

My (blurry) face: not representative of the joy I actually felt when I saw this dress on me. Apologies for the crappy dressing room shot!

At the beginning of this year, I decided that I wouldn’t buy any new clothes (with a few exceptions). Instead, I would thrift clothes, buy vintage clothes from re-sellers, and/or attempt to sew my own. The exceptions are underwear (duh), Converse (double duh), and leggings. Because it’s kind of impossible to find good used leggings.

My main motivation was to save money—so I could spend it on important things like my hair. You might laugh at that, but the one time I colored my own hair was so unsatisfactory that I basically just cried for 3 solid weeks until I could have my stylist fix it. Anyway!

The other reasons were:

1) I realized every year I end up with a closet full of clothes in which I only really wear half of it. Since most of my clothing is cheap (designer prices have never made sense to me, and let’s face it—designers generally don’t make anything over size 10), I would end up buying 3x what I need; the same dress, tank top, tee, and skirt in 5 colors. And then only wear 1 of each.

2) Pajamas are my crack. I seriously buy new pajamas about every 2 months. And since I went on a GIGANTIC pj buying spree before my surgery, I don’t need any new ones for about 5 more years.

3) I figured it made environmentally friendly sense. I’m no eco-crusader, but outside of my clothing, which I still (mostly) buy from morally irresponsible companies like Old Navy, Gap, Victoria’s Secret, and H&M, I try my best to purchase from local retailers. So, why not make a move to make sure at least 90% of my clothing is bought locally too? Continue reading


How to Sing Karaoke, Sober

Not an actual representation of me on stage, but I am most definitely drunk in this photo.

Okay, that title is a bit misleading. Because it sounds like this entry will be a primer on how-to do something, and it’s something I’m not even sure I can do. But, seeing how it’s the eve of the big Three Imaginary Girls 10th Anniversary Rockstar Karaoke New Wave Bash, I felt like I had to write something about how my massive stage fright might hamper my desire to get up there and belt out a few tunes.

See, I suffer from this thing called “being old.” And yes, I know I’m not that old. And yet, for some reason, the combination of three things has a tendency to make me very, very, very ill: standing for extended periods of time + being out late + booze. Basically, if I’m out at a show, drinking even the littlest bit of alcohol is like injecting poison straight into my veins.

Even like 1 glass of cider can make me feel like I’m going to hurl all night—waking me up about every 30 minutes to stumble into the bathroom, praying I can eject whatever is making me feel HORRRIBLE as quickly as possible.

After asking my doctor 100x why this is, she said, definitively, and for the 100th time, “You’re just getting old, my dear.” Auuugh. Really? I mean, I realize I probably ruined my bladder with all that Bacardi and Jose Cuervo in the 80s (and 90s … and 2000s) but COME ON (wo)MAN. Continue reading


Tantrum-throwing 30-somethings = not cute

Even my drink is frowning at "that guy."

So here’s how I found myself at a bar with a full-grown man stomping up and down like a child, while screaming that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.

It was a week night, and one in which I was engaged in a traveling happy hour—as in, a few friends and I started at one bar and drank our way through a few before ending up at 611.

Anyway, whilst at the second bar, we ran into a few other traveling happy hourers, a couple of perfectly nice and normal ladies with a guy who also seemed just fine. Two drinks in he starts chatting me up…and at first, it’s just your usual bar chatter. “Where you from? What do you like to do?” etc. Then he asks if I want to step outside for a cigarette. I politely decline, and the crazy starts in.

 “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“Uh. I don’t smoke. I’m actually allergic to smoke, so I prefer to stay as far away from it as possible.”

“I don’t really believe that. No one’s allergic to smoke! Why don’t you want to go with me? Don’t you know we’re meant to be together?”

“….that’s…funny? Wait, what?” Continue reading


%d bloggers like this: