Posts tagged: pabst

A few weeks back, my good friend TC, lead singer of Satiate and Blue Blood writer, celebrated her birthday. TC is into her Americana, so the theme of the evening was bowling and Pabst Blue Ribbon (and later tittays, tittays, tittays.) We started off the evening at Lucky Strike Lanes. The bowling alley at the flailing Hollywood and Highland mall advertises itself as upscale and I generally end up there fairly regularly when various porn companies rent out the VIP for parties. The teams were roughly divided along band lines of Satiate versus Dead Girls Corporation. I played on the birthday girl’s team and we were utterly pasted by DGC. In my defense, although I do not do an approach, I am not a terrible bowler, but Lucky Strike Lanes has an awful ball selection on a weekend night and their lanes are non-standard length and a bunch of their machinery seems oddly timed. Not in my defense, the other team also had to contend with the same sucky ball selection and non-standard lane length and oddly timed machinery. I swear all the balls seemed like they were made for giant steroid users with baby hands, like sixteen pound balls only a little kid could get a finger spread in. At one point, I accidentally threw one of the balls our lane was using when the system was actually changing pins and my ball went down the middle of the lane, got stopped by the pin-sweeper, and just kind of hung out there. I finally went up the lane to retrieve it. To my friends’ amusement and the bowling alley personnel’s annoyance. I can’t help it if I’m a DIY problem-solver.

Continuing my beer-related sports …

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‘Shy,’ ‘proper,’ ‘politically correct,’ ‘distinguished’ are just not the words used to describe this man. In fact, most people quite often would go with, ‘vulgar,’ ‘uncouth,’ ‘improper’ and a ‘highly charged ball of beer fueled sexual energy.’ I mean, we’re talking about a guy, whose nickname is “Sketchy.” Speaking of which, he also happens to be the only person I know who’s named ‘Racci.’ Never could a person be more appropriately named.

I met him approximately fourteen years ago when I went to go cover an old band of his from Atlanta doing a show in Cocoa Beach, Florida when I was running a fanzine out of Tampa. It was a weird venue, and honestly, the most I can remember of that night was they wouldn’t turn off the smoke machine and it made for horrible photos. We were introduced at that show, but didn’t really pass more than a few words.

A few weeks later, one of my friends, who was super into him at the time, asked me to go with her to see his band up in Atlanta, GA. I figured I’d get some better live photos than the previous shots to go with my review. I ended up being pretty much a third wheel and went out to the stairwell to drink some beer alone when my friend left the hotel leaving Racci and me on the stairway enjoying conversation. That was our very first discussion and the beginning of a very hilariously awesome friendship. All over some girl, some beer and some conversations at a Hampton Inn. You ever have snapshots of your memories? This stairwell with two people and a case of beer, is one …

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