Let me just say how much I hate hipster bars. It’s all about appearances. At the Zoo, it’s all about community, and having fun, and just being around each other. At the Hipster Bar, it’s all about what clothes you’re wearing and what drink you’re having. –And hey, can you dance to this techno-remix? The overall feel is just one of separation; whereas in the Zoo, you’re bumping up against one another and sharing glances, not making them, and best of all, singing along!

I also have to report that our local Queer Center has moved it’s location. It used to be on the second-story of a building, which was not handicap accessible and not visible from the street unless you were looking for it. It’s now located on the first-floor of a building closer to the heart of the downtown, and has two large windows. We were given a tour tonight by a board member and let me just say, I’ll be the gal hanging out watching films while knitting. It feels comfortable there and I’m really glad they moved to a more prominent locale.

The thing I’ve learned tonight: it’s true, as you age everyone just gets more bloated, so why not just have fun together?

The Partner, our friend Missy, and I crammed into Missy’s car the Friday before Vic’s birthday and drove out to Penn State. Missy and I took turns driving and I was really hoping it would go a lot better than last time, but no, Ohio still sucks to drive through. As we didn’t arrive at their place until early Saturday morning, we all pretty much went to bed as soon as we got there.

Saturday morning proper we ate breakfast, drove around a bit, then headed out to the bars.

Here’s the thing about State College/Penn State: a lot of the bars won’t let you drink the day of your 21st birthday.

I’m sure you’re probably thinking, “What the fuck ever.” But I am not kidding. I thought Vic was kidding when she told me. I thought the bartender at the first bar we went in was kidding when he said they wouldn’t serve her shots, only beer. But then he took Vic’s driver’s license and wrote all her info down, then he got out a fat permanent marker and put big X’s on her hands so she would be forever marked as a Celebratory 21-year-old. I questioned his sincerity again and he told me again he could only serve us shots, and not her, because it was her 21st birthday. Then I told him his bar could fuck off, we’d go elsewhere, because we did not just drive nine fucking hours from Indiana to celebrate her 21st birthday without any fucking birthday shots. In Indiana, I said, we give FREE birthday shots.

But nearly every bar, bar and grill, and restaurant with a bar refused to serve Vic liquor. Some would only serve her if it’s been 26 hours since her birthday. Some places would serve her beer but not liquor. One bouncer wouldn’t even let us in, telling us, “We can’t do a 21 tonight. We can’t let you in.” And in the whole fucking city I couldn’t find one bar that would serve me two shots at one time.

State College bar owners, you suck.

Once we resigned ourselves to having to walk around searching for the bars that would serve us, the night went pretty well.

View the entire set here, or at Flickr:

Why Watching The L-Word in Sweat Pants Is NOT Better Than Us:

• We are REAL LIVE BEINGS!
• We are more REALISTIC than L-Word characters
• We most certainly do not make more than $50K/year
• We hardly ever have perfectly coiffed hair
• Our clothes are NOT designer labels,
• nor do we care if they are
• We sell our art for $50-$300
• We won’t cheat on you with the carpenter
• We won’t cheat on you, period.
• Sweat pants? You really think L-Word characters will take you in sweat pants?? Fuck no. WE, HOWEVER, WILL.
• Movie producer? WhoTF here is a movie producer?
• High-class LA/NY art galleries? Fuck that, we got high-class Lafayette galleries, complete with FREE WINE!
• Where the fuck were you?
• Goddamnit.
• WTF?

[pictobrowser 12506760@N00 72157604710234774]

The Chef, flipping me the bird (although, I can’t remember if I am the one who took this shot or not):

The Partner, so not amused:

We were all pretty damn drunk by this point in the evening, about 3am:

Me, looking like I’m about to cry:

But I’m actually discussing existentials with J and ready to cut someone:

The beautiful J, who caused the above expression:

View the entire set.

My New Year’s celebrations went fairly well. I started drinking around nine Monday night and at about ten The Partner and I talked with The Canadian-Down-Under for an hour. It was good to hear he is doing well, and to hear the stories he can’t blog about. (It was not good to hear he had started smoking again, at $11 a pack [I have to bug you, and would expect the same].)

Shortly after we got off the phone, Lauren called to invite us over to her place to join her, Chef, and her friend J in ringing in the new year, so we gathered some liquor and games and walked through the already-nasty weather to her house.

The five of us sat around, drinking too much, playing a game, and talking politics. Chef and The Partner left the room at one point, hiding in the kitchen, because they couldn’t handle our rather heated discussion (but I don’t think I pointed any fingers this time, even though I was sufficiently sloshed). I’m a firm believer in folks sharing their beliefs, philosophies, and politics, because if we can’t and don’t talk about them, we leave it up to other folks, who are probably godbag Republicans, and I don’t know about you, but they don’t talk for me. And how else do you know what you believe until you argue it through with others? It was great to see how different, yet similar, the three of us are.

I think The Partner left around 3am, taking my liquor with him. Fortunately, Lauren and Chef are drinkers, so I took some of their rum to mix with my soda, which I did drink, even though Lauren poured some coffee liqueur in it. She went to bed around 5 or so, I think.

So Chef, J, and I sat around for another two hours talking, although the particulars are extremely fuzzy. Realizing the time, I walked home part of the way with J, appreciating her ability to talk frankly without having hurt feelings or feeling awkward.

I then stayed up until 8, at which time it had become light out, drinking tons of water to allow myself the ability to lay down with getting the spins.

Happy New Year!

Then the phone rang at 11am.

I had partially awoken, and heard The Partner race up the stairs to answer it. He had missed it, but caller ID said it was my parents house. I mumbled something about it being too early, my mom should know I’d still be sleeping, and we weren’t going to the movies until the later afternoon.

The Partner listened to the voicemail, and said it was my step-father. The Partner brought me the cordless so I could listen to the message telling me to call home as soon as possible.

That’s never a good message.

Still rather drunk, I called home. My step-father said my mom was in the hospital, having had a small stroke at 1:30 that morning.

After the shock, I got up, got dressed, made a small breakfast, drank a lot of water, and then called one of my aunts because my step-dad hadn’t gotten a hold of her. I reached her, and told her. I tried to call my other aunt and uncle, but I couldn’t find their phone number in my panic, so I called my cousin Amanda, who didn’t answer, so I left her a message to call me ASAP.

We then dug our car out of the snow and drove to the hospital.

My mom said, “It looks like we’re not going to the movies today, kiddo.”

We stayed until about 3 in the afternoon, long enough for my step-dad to return and for the neurologist to call with the results of the MRI, which showed my mom did have a small stroke. The good news is that she did not display any outward signs of damage (such as one-sided paralysis or memory loss or slurred speech). Any and all damage was relegated to her brain, which seemed to be functioning normally, or as normal as could be. We should find out more later today.

I’m just going to say that this had better be the lowest fucking low of the remaining 364 days of 2008. Or someone is getting cut.

Mixed with this bad, I had called an old friend to let her know about my mom, and in-between our talks of watching our parents get older, she let me know about her New Year’s engagement. While I can’t say I’m excited for another wedding (even though she will be a most beautiful bride and the alcohol shall surely flow at the party), I am excited for her and hope she and her soon-to-be-husband come to enjoy their 1,138 Federal rights and privileges.

The Canadian-Down-Under: Uh, it’s about 2 in the afternoon, 2008.

The Partner: Wow, it’s like time travel.

Me: We’re talkin’ to the future!

You know, while I’m at it. If you have friends that get out of bed in the middle of the night to help you look for your cat in the cold, only to walk to your house and be told you’ve found the cat, IN THAT CLOSET, something special for them this holiday season might not be a bad thought. BECAUSE THOSE ARE AWESOME FRIENDS.

Anna Beth
Sunday, November 11, 2007
5:58am