I’m Who With the What Now?

My Workiepoo Face

So, I don’t get out much these days. Not in the sense of not going out and fraternizing with the general public, as I do that often in the form of sitting and drinking a pretentious Starbucks and writing blogs, and getting lured in by 3 for $10 books. I hate when they do that. Gets me every time. But that’s another blog all together.

I finally took it upon myself to accept the multiple invites from people that love me and hit up a show at one of my favourite live music venues in Hamilton. (The Casbah) To boot, the whole bill was filled with friends bands.
It was an awesome night. I didn’t even drink and had a good time. Part of the not going out at night makes it easier NOT to drink when you’re not in a bar, right? Right.

As I entered the building, I noticed immediately that I was old. Old fuck. Not happy about it. I even mentioned it to my friend who is just a year older than me, and he agreed.


That’s me in the blue. Can you see me?? Just checking. I’m short.

Now I know how those “old people” felt when I was the young peoples age when their territory was over taken by us. This has now happened to me on two occasions.

When I lived in Hamilton, The Casbah was my home. At the time, I knew everyone there; patrons, staff, the works. But when I walked into the place this past weekend, I knew no one except the bands and a couple other people. The place was packed, and I knew a handful. And that’s when I thought, “Fuck I’m old. Seriously. I’m old enough that 19 year olds are infiltrating my home base AND THEY’RE LEGAL. Yuck. Yuck yuck yuck.”

This has also happened in Burlington to my home bar there. And no, I’m not an alcoholic… anymore…. shut up.


We had a pirate party there once and I don’t remember it. Epic. The photos from that night went “missing”, so here’s a generic one of happy pirate people.

The Poacher was the same as the Casbah, only in my earlier years. Everyone I knew would meet up there without making plans, without calling each other to see what was going on that night. Multiple memories I have of my early 20’s years are engraved in that basement. When they painted the walls, I cried.. when they unplugged the juke box, I sobbed. That’s how near and dear to my heart this place is.
Coming back, however, after my time spent living in Hamilton was heartbreaking. I walked into the basement, and recognized 2 people. The bartender and J Dinn who is a fixture.

That’s when I realized I belonged upstairs. UPSTAIRS.. DO YOU NOT EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS??!?!?!? I’M TOO OLD FOR THE BASEMENT! AHHHHH!
My whole youth spent downstairs, we would look at the older crowd with the weirdest, judging eyes when they entered our domain. “What. Are. You. Thinking.? Get upstairs. NOW!” It was like we were the only ones that had ever come across the Poacher basement; like we invented it. That’s young people logic for you, and thus, I am banished to the main level, drinking wine instead of shots and talking about mortgages and financial advisors. I’m not kidding… that’s my life. And I get the same looks that I gave others when I go down there, so I guess it has come full circle and karma kicked me in the shin.

And I don’t like it.



I think it’s a little bit of not liking the younger generation as a whole, and partly because the reasons why I don’t like them is because I know that I looked that stupid before and I don’t want to be reminded of it. To my generations credit though, we are in no way responsible for the “Duck Face”. Most of your 19 year old pictures are now tainted and your kids will make fun of you. But I still cannot bring it upon myself to allow them to have fun. Not without my (unnoticed) judging eyes speculating how many shots they’ve had and why they’re such close talkers all the time. Which drives me BANANAS.
(I’m getting a lot of ideas for other blogs writing this, so WATCH OUT, I’m on a roll)

This just happened as I spaced out for a sec: http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbg6o5mqar1rajw7eo1_500.gif
I’m back…

You’re probably sitting there thinking, (if you don’t know me that is) that I must be ancient.. like, late 30’s early 40’s. (hahaha) I’m not… in fact, I haven’t even reached 30 yet. And doesn’t that just speak to the voluminous amount that I’ve changed in about 10 years? Seriously, almost 30 is not quite old yet. I should be able to keep up with people like my brother who’s 19 and not feel an age gap. BUT I DO! I am no longer comfortable close to the front of the stage with people rocking the fuck out, head banging and arms flailing.. I don’t even know what you would call that kind of move… not quite fist pumping… maybe a little Elaine Benes, (Seinfeld reference for all you young fucks)


This is how it’s done kids.

and maybe a little bit because they’ve been drinking since 8:30 in the parking lot anticipating exactly what it is that they’re doing right then.

I am also REALLY not comfortable when the moshing starts. (Apparently not a word… but meh is?? Huh.) If I’m around moshers or skankers, (not a slut, a form of dancing that looks ridiculous, but can be used as cardio) I get nervous. Those limbs be a swinging, and I, being clumsy, will undoubtably be in the way of one or more. And I bruise easily. So I stay back.
And now, to completely contradict myself, I crowd surfed TWICE last year at concerts! hahaha What a hypocrite I am.

My blog, my rules. I don’t have to answer to anyone.

So, when it comes right down to it, I’m jealous. Not that my 20’s were that bad, although there were a few times where I would downright kick puppies from shitty situations,


Truth. I could… and it’d be all worth it.

but that’s what makes me a really rad, cynical, almost 30 year old. I have no patience for the younger decade, and I really think that they’re going to ruin the world unless my friends and I, (who haven’t already) start procreating. Ew… no… I take that back. I’m not ready for that yet.

It seems I’m just going to have to deal with it like those before me have and did. At least they’re participating in the music scene at all. That’s good. Bands: Take their money and RUN. RRRUUUUNNN!!! Their OSAP can only go so far.


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