Phoning Abroad
May 16- A late-night drunken binge on chips (fries) always seems like an incredibly brilliant idea when it’s late at night and I’m drunk, but its morning-after effects are inevitably akin to waking up next to the mother of one’s best friend. (Not that this has ever happened.) No amount of tooth-brushing, scrubbing in the shower, or application of lotion can cleanse a body of its horrible taint. Of course, no matter how many times I’ve cursed myself for my dietary irresponsibility that morning, I go out again the next evening and it happens all over. I’m afraid the only way to break the cycle will be death by heart attack. Or I could stop drinking. (Who am I kidding?)
Perhaps my fried potato-clogged digestive tract can be blamed for my stupidity last evening at the Barfly in Liverpool. In the midst of my TBA introduction, I mistakenly called the venue “the Barfly in Camden,” eliciting snorts and hisses from the crowd. It’s bizarre because I knew very much where I was, having been singing the Gerry and the Pacemakers hit ‘Ferry ‘Cross the Mersey’ all morning, and reminiscing all afternoon about our tour of the Beatles museum and the soccer riot we took part in during our last visit to the city. Fortunately, the people of Liverpool are a forgiving bunch, and although I received a good ribbing from my friend Howard and a shove in the back from a stranger at the bar after the show, I escaped unscathed. The band more than made up for my mishap with their performance, I think, because some new friends even helped us lug all our gear out to the van as we were packing up, though this may have been simply to hasten our departure.
Another possible explanation for my brief memory lapse could be the large quantities of absinthe Zachary and I consumed the night before in Birmingham. Somehow Zachary, myself, and Nathaniel—who fell asleep immediately upon arrival—found ourselves in the apartment of one of the DJs who spun in-between bands at the Bar Academy show earlier that night. We spied a bottle of luminous fluorescent green liquid resting on his counter. We drank the bottle of luminous fluorescent green liquid that was resting on the counter.
Whenever intoxicated, I have a nasty habit of picking up whatever phone happens to be closest to me and phoning my wife and children. This in itself isn’t so terrible, but it is terribly disrespectful and expensive to the owner of the phone, especially when one is calling his wife and children in another country. If the owner of the phone I violated is reading this, please contact me via info@thebloodarm.com so I may reimburse you for any harms caused. Lucky for me—and the wallets of party hosts across London—my wife is flying out for our last four shows here.
I went to bed early after the gig in Manchester on the 14th, and apparently I missed a duet performance of Bohemian Rhapsody by Dyan and Nathaniel on the piano at the hotel bar. Now I’m praying for another piano-endowed pub so that they may be coaxed into an encore.
Magnifico-oh-oh-oh…
-Ben Lee
Perhaps my fried potato-clogged digestive tract can be blamed for my stupidity last evening at the Barfly in Liverpool. In the midst of my TBA introduction, I mistakenly called the venue “the Barfly in Camden,” eliciting snorts and hisses from the crowd. It’s bizarre because I knew very much where I was, having been singing the Gerry and the Pacemakers hit ‘Ferry ‘Cross the Mersey’ all morning, and reminiscing all afternoon about our tour of the Beatles museum and the soccer riot we took part in during our last visit to the city. Fortunately, the people of Liverpool are a forgiving bunch, and although I received a good ribbing from my friend Howard and a shove in the back from a stranger at the bar after the show, I escaped unscathed. The band more than made up for my mishap with their performance, I think, because some new friends even helped us lug all our gear out to the van as we were packing up, though this may have been simply to hasten our departure.
Another possible explanation for my brief memory lapse could be the large quantities of absinthe Zachary and I consumed the night before in Birmingham. Somehow Zachary, myself, and Nathaniel—who fell asleep immediately upon arrival—found ourselves in the apartment of one of the DJs who spun in-between bands at the Bar Academy show earlier that night. We spied a bottle of luminous fluorescent green liquid resting on his counter. We drank the bottle of luminous fluorescent green liquid that was resting on the counter.
Whenever intoxicated, I have a nasty habit of picking up whatever phone happens to be closest to me and phoning my wife and children. This in itself isn’t so terrible, but it is terribly disrespectful and expensive to the owner of the phone, especially when one is calling his wife and children in another country. If the owner of the phone I violated is reading this, please contact me via info@thebloodarm.com so I may reimburse you for any harms caused. Lucky for me—and the wallets of party hosts across London—my wife is flying out for our last four shows here.
I went to bed early after the gig in Manchester on the 14th, and apparently I missed a duet performance of Bohemian Rhapsody by Dyan and Nathaniel on the piano at the hotel bar. Now I’m praying for another piano-endowed pub so that they may be coaxed into an encore.
Magnifico-oh-oh-oh…
-Ben Lee
posted by BLOOD AMBITION 2008 at 8:49 AM
2 Comments:
ben hows ur head? ok i hope. looked like u took a bit of a bang in birmingham....well u were a bit drunk hehe
Yes that was our absinthe, our whisky that nathaniel took with him whilst leaving our front door wide open at 9am sunday morning and my phone you used. Tut tut! We don't remember much either, but i believe fun was had by all! Hope the wife and children are ok . . .
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