Saturday, April 28, 2012

Hold on or let go

There are moments I tend to avoid - the awkward bumping into the ex moment, the moment where you have a huge chunk of spinach in your teeth right before doing an interview, the moment where you break down over something stupid just because it's a bad day and the moment when you give up on a friendship.

Like every other relationship, friendships take two people - and sometimes, due to extenuating circumstances or complete stupidity, friendships break. Sometimes it's an 'uncontested' break - the two friends just stopped hanging out, had different interests etc. Sometimes, it's petty - jealousy, finding a boyfriend/girlfriend. Other times, it's just because while one person is trying - there's just absolutely no reception. There's only so many times (And I'll admit - people get a LOT) a person can be rejected, dejected, passed off, excused, etc etc ETC...before it's just enough.

I'd rather look like an idiot and attempt to keep a friend through trials and stress in their life, but there comes a point when I give up.

I'll never admit to being 'the perfect friend' - If stressed, I'm a terrible person to be around. I snore. I get irritated easily. I have the attention span of a blowfly. I constantly change my mind. I can even be mean sometimes - that's right, downright mean...but I'm persistent. I want to be engaged in my friends lives, do what I can to help - even just offer cookies or coffee breaks. I want to do what I can to support them - but after awhile, it starts to get really personal.

So, I give up...funny how it's easier to think those words than it is to actually write them.

The night owls guide to University

I have a dilemma - while not extremely serious, I am wondering how I am going to deal with this. I am a night owl - I spent 10 hours in my chair this morning/afternoon doing everything BUT study - I tried...I ended up getting distracted throughout the day though.

Here it is almost 1am and I'm writing down essay ideas for my exam like crazy! It's rather awesome however...

What happens when I actually need to get a 'real' job that has set hours? I'm assuming my strongest work will be done at night no matter what - but the problem is I still will be working 9-5 or so...and I'm rather useless before noon.

So what do I do? While I am trying - and I am trying hard - I wonder if there is a way to LEARN to be a day person, not a night person.

Like I said, what do I do?

Thursday, April 26, 2012

100 books over the summer

So, as many people know - I have goals over the summer and typically, they're good ones...don't die, don't get a LOT. So, I'll be keeping record of the books I read (the good, the bad, and the trashy) on my blog with a very short description of them once read. They will be labelled 100 books 2012

Currently, I am working on:

1. The Fat Girls Guide to Life - Wendy Shanker explains that she is a fat girl and she's accepted it. Now she wants everyone else to accept their body too. It's interesting to skim but honestly, unless you get it for 25 cents like I did, don't bother.  I won't be keeping this one around.

4. Extreme Cuisine - Lonely Planet put out a book of exotic (aka gross) food that people could try if willing - I don't know as I'm willing.

2. Dear Jo- Christina Kilbourne (just started)

3. So Hard to Say
- Alex Sanchez - Teenager has to admit he's gay.  This book had a decent plot but was rather juvenile.  I wasn't a huge fan, the writing was 'meh' and I could get the same story watching Glee.

May 1
5. The Other Boleyn Girl - Phillipa Gregory - I can't put this book down.  Absolutely love it! It's historical fiction surrounding the many (and there were many) trysts of King Henry.

6. The Nanny Diaries - If you haven't read it (or worse, watched the movie), go pick up a copy and read it.  Grover is lovable and still a real child, Nanny is well rounded.  My only complaint was that she had way too much time as a student. 

7. Monster Planet - The world is taken over by zombies, some of which have brains.  What better way to make money than sell human flesh, right? (Just started)

May 6

8. The Prairie Bridesmaid - I'm pretty sure this book was written for me: girl keeps going back to abusive boyfriend until her friends step in.  She finds out, after truly leaving, what makes her happy.  I absolutely loved this book.  It had the right amount of humour, compassion between friends, and although was a 'break up book' didn't make me feel depressed.  Oh, and it's Canadian :) 

9. Hollywood Dream- Yes, another melodramatic girly book depicting a woman who falls in love at the most horrible time and has to travel across the world to fix her mistakes.  If you're a fan of fashion or just want a good, summer afternoon with a glass of wine book, check it out!

May 18

10) Hope In A Jar- I liked it just because it's a 'fun read'...about a girl that finds her boyfriend cheating and tries to transform herself before her 20th high school reunion (ended up loving it - good summer read)

11) Unforgettable - Just another good read, spoiled girls at boarding school

12) Artemis Fowl - Seems interesting enough...and ended up hating it!

May 24

13) The Borgais Bride- Loved it enough I'll never give it up. One of my favorite summer reads already 

14) Crank - While I suppose most people would call this poetry, to me - the ramblings of a crack head just don't seem overly poetic and makes a good story. 

June 27

15) Violets Are Blue

16) The Scarpetta Factor

17) Pirate Latitudes

18) Dating Detox

July 3

19) Waking the Witch - Kelly Armstrong

20) Frostbitten - Kelly Armstrong

21) The Beach House - Patterson

22) Swimsuits - Patterson

23) The Walking Dead Comic Series

24) Chew Comic Series

25) The BFG

26) Runaway Ralph

27) Odd Mom Out - love this book

28) Reversible Errors- Scott Turow

29) 2nd Chance - Patterson

30) Kiss the Girls - Patterson - another one of my favorites

31) The Beach Road - Patterson (I'm on a kick with the patterson books, eh?) - read this! one of my newest favorite books!

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Writing is a superpower

As I'm venturing out beyond 'journalism' in my writing, I've realized something about myself - it's not about the "job", it's about the passion I have for the work I do. Writing is a way for me to leave my mark on the world, a way for me to impact enormous amounts of people (someday) by what I have put on paper.

I am actually at peace with my writing now - not stressed out about what my bosses are going to think or what the repercussions of dropping an F*bomb may be. I love writing because of what I can accomplish with it - I can preserve a memory, I can stop time. How many other activities do you get to have a superpower?

Beyond language is emotion

Major (Ret'd) Harold A. Skaarup told two other stories that broke my heart once again. After listening to Stephen Puddicomb speak, I'm still not really 'over it' and I just wanted to run out of the auditorium but as always, I'm so glad I stayed.

He told us a story of ten villagers who didn't speak his language but linked arms to stop them from hitting a mine in the road. They couldn't thanks the strangers because there would be retaliation but these people risked their lives to save his.

The second story involved a man running towards Skaarup's convey, arms flailing wildly. Of course, numerous guns were aimed on him quickly - who was he? Was he dangerous? What did he want? There was a flash flood that had caught two children. One was rescued but the other, a little girl, was still under the water. The water was sludge and sewage but one of the men Skaarup was with jumped in and hauled the little girl out. In the water, he began giving her mouth-to-mouth but no one was able to say it had been too long - about 15 minutes. The little girl was dead. The villagers came around to the man and although they couldn't speak in his language, just put their hands on his shoulder to say 'it's okay, we know you tried.' The power of these sorts of stories - the ones that aren't told - are just overwhelming. The village had previously been hostile but because of this, because this man had tried to save this little girl, they were always welcome.

I can't really state an overarching moral or life-lesson to this story - it's heartbreaking and sad - but the power that was in those words, the crack in his voice, the apology for showing true emotion, that's true humanity. It's more powerful than a few words on a blog - but it needs to be remembered.

Skaarup left us with this and so, I'm going to finish with it.

"We are not over there to fix the problem...We're trying to keep it there so it doesn't come here."

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Looking for Lost Canadian History

Harold Skaarup is not the average historian from what I can tell - he's tall, short, white hair, clear, sharp eyes, and a deep voice.  He reminds me, in ways, of Race Bannon, a body/security guard in the cartoon 'The Adventures of Jonny Quest' which makes sense, I suppose, since Skaarup is newly retired from the army.  In a white, short sleeved button up t-shirt, black casual vest, and dark pants, he wasn't intimidating but definitely had my attention.  He picked me out and asked if I was writing for something or doing homework - I replied that I blog.  He told me not to believe everything I hear from him - I told him if people believed everything on my blog, I'd appear to be a terrible person.  People do have their own perception.

Skaarup introduced himself without saying his name - he began by explaining New Brunswicker's were famous for their storytelling, which was a tool for bridge building, forging relationships.  He explained he was working in Kabo with a team of 27 people from 14 countries.  I sat, interested of course, but trying to understand what this had to do with any sort of history.  He had to learn to say 'good morning' to each of these people in their language.  If he said hello to one person and not the other, the person he ignored was sulky all day.  It was easier to greet them all.  In his interactions, he learned about their culture and continued (admittedly, I'm still interested and confused).

He told us a joke - a snail gets on a turtles back and is excited because it's a fast ride - the joke was not the point so, I didn't write it down.  To the Germans, a joke is serious - you say it seriously (of course, Skaarup said the joke in German -I am impressed).  To the Turkish people, a joke is quiet because otherwise, it is assumed the person telling the joke loudly is drunk and that is immoral - so he tells the joke (in yet another language).  Then...the Italians - he has hand gestures and movements and loudly's a full body experience to tell a joke!

He explained that, in Bosnia, when asking if a road was safe, a Turkish man asked about the weather.  Skaarup thought this man was avoiding the topic.  The  Turkish man asked about Skaarup's family - which didn't make sense either at the time.  Skaarup explained that culture and interaction were not amiss in this situation.  The weather was crucial because the enemies would place mines in banks along the roads - when the heavy rains came - the mud washed down (as did the mines) and the road was unsafe.  His family was of interest because "An officer who doesn't take care of his family is unlikely to take care of his men."  The story of joke telling began to make sense - every culture is different but writing it off because it's different could be deadly.

The topic of the night was "Looking for Lost Canadian History" and Skaarup asked for the help of the audience in the room.  There are writings of Norse origin on Ontario (Peterburough) - doesn't it make sense that they trekked through the Atlantic provinces?

As Skaarup is explaining this, he begins talking about the Battle of the Plains of Abraham (which was linked to his first relative in the NB area).  Admittedly, I was more attentive to the animation this man displayed -  he walks back and forth explaining the battle in a manner I have never seen.  He explains how the British are down on the ground - and he drops to the floor pretending to hold a firearm.  He paces the stage, speaking in a haughty British accent - as he begins to bark orders he screams "PRESENT" and tells us to look at the distance (the length of the room) in which they were firing.  "FIRE," Skaarup screams, his brow shining in the glow of the projector.  He explains how General Wolfe was hit - retracting his wrist in mock pain and lurching to the side to portray a shot to the ribs.

Admittedly, I'm still slightly confused as to how this relates to lost Canadian history...but I'm captivated.  The next story was easier to follow as to what is lost and needs to be found.

The HMCS Niabe's guns were used to defend the Port City (that is, Saint John) in WWII.  Skaarup began tracking down guns (cannons).  530 guns were brought back from the Great War, 26 were given to New Brunswick.  In WWII, scrap metal was needed to make machines - and Saint John offered their guns to the war effort.  These pieces of history are gone - only 6 have been accounted for but there are more.  Skaarup estimates 30-40% of the identities of the cannons are actually inaccurate.  People put what they think the gun is on a $5000 plaque but don't know for certain.  Skaarup began recording where the guns were and what kind they were.  Saint John has the only 5.5 inch gun in Atlantic Canada as most were melted into scrap metal.  He explained he's looking for them - and would like help finding them.

Skaarup explained he wrote about his uncle who was killed in a tank in Italy.  He didn't get the opportunity to tell his story.  Skaarup explained, "As a New Brunswicker, that's not right."  Skaarup wrote about his uncle to get the story out there - to tell a story that should have been told by him.

He continued on his quest to find lost Canadian history by explaining about a report of a submarine that had sank off the coast of PEI.  He was told by the Dept of History not to ask.  The British sank the submarine so the Germans wouldn't get the technology or the boats....but if that sub is found, there is a chance to prove friendly fire killed four men - and that would be negative historical press.  The official report was that a ship, smaller than the sub, collided with something but there is a letter from J. Edgar Hoover stating it had to be sunk because it had turned against them. Skaarup wants to find the sub and be able to put it in the hands of a museum.

His next quest involved finding out about a rocket.  He rants in a British accent about Canadians not needing rocket intelligence, and then explains (in a slightly Newfoundland-like accent - pronouncing there as 'dere' but I believe that is his actual accent although maybe not NFLD-based), a young officer takes a case of whiskey, get's the British security drunk so the Canadians can steal the rocket with some sledgehammers and a flatbed truck in the dead of night.  After painting it grey, adding some wood and calling it a submarine, they get it past Customs and in Canada, realize it's live.  They hose the liquid out (since they're not blown up) but the rocket disappeared.  He also mentioned there have been thousands of machine guns brought to Canada...he's found 4 in NB.  These are the sorts of things that are in people's attics and wants help finding.
 Finally, he explained about a Hawker Hurricane - an airplane - that crashed between here and St. Stephen.  The family has pieces of the airplane - Joe (the fellow who found it) was killed in an airplane crash - but it was never found.  Where is it?  "I believe it exists," Skaarup said, "I just can't find it yet."

He said that there was another form of airplane - one that had a front and back propeller that was brought over but once the general attempted to fly it - the explosive in the back detonated and the general was dead as a doornail.  Needless to say, there were not a lot of pictures of that type of plane but especially, of that one in particular.

Skaarup is looking for the following things:
-the Hawker Hurricane
-parts of guns and Cannons from WWI
-1300-1400 crossbow pieces or evidence of people in Canada in this time-period verified on-site by archeologists 
-the PEI submarine

He wants their stories.  He wants to know why they are there, who the people where, what happened, when it happened - he's giving people who did not tell their stories a voice once again.  If anyone has any information about these items, e-mail or comment on the TinkerTimes and I'll get you in contact one way or another.

If interested in learning more about Major (Ret'd) Harold A. Skaarup, check out his books here.

The next two stories he told, I'll save for my next post.

Note: This post is free to be reproduced for any non-profit organization in any way provided credit (and notification) is given to me (Samantha Tinker).    

People watching in Brunswick Square

While sitting in the Brunswick Square food court, drinking a large coffee (two sweetener, one cream) from Tim Horton's - the only spot open at the moment - the sights and sounds are distracting me from reading my newly purchased book from the University book sale.

The muffled crash of the water fountain in the center of the court is currently flowing bright yellow water in support of the Canadian Cancer Society.  Tiny yellow droplets spit in every direction.  While cheery in appearance, the sound is definitely leaving my tiny bladder slightly confused.

The noise of the fountain is overpowered by the incessant humming of the lights - most of which aren't turned on.  This is leading me to feel as though I were in a slightly reclusive coffee shop, not a typically busy food court.  If it were any darker, I'd be transported back in time to a 1940s bar atmosphere where the room was filled with wafting cigarette smoke and I'd be holding a cocktail, not a Tim's cup.

The elevator music is also competing for my attention - an upbeat guitar with a touch of resonance (that is what it's called, I believe) is only an afterthought though.  The lights are rather like a swarm of hornets - they make their presence known.

A security guard catches my attention - young, rather hard looking face.  This probably isn't his ideal job.  He looks bored but at the same time, in the back of his mind, he must be thankful.  Boredom in his profession must equate to safety.  If not for his shoes, he would blend into his surroundings perfectly.  Black jacket with SECURITY on the back, bright yellow liner barely visible in the front, black, decent fitting trousers, but bright blue sneakers...Rebock brand, I think.

As the time passes, closer and closer to the lecture at the New Brunswick museum, the number of people sitting in the food court rises.  With this increase, the lights slowly come on.  The Museum lights glow a soft yellow but I am unsure when they were turned on.  Their warm presence, for some reason, makes me think of walking home in the snow after dark and seeing houses - cozy inside - with the same glow.

One woman in particular catches my attention. With perfectly coiffed hair, bright eyes, and absolutely amazing legs, her heels catch my attention as she passed my table three times.  She is impeccably dressed in a trench coat and lovely skirt.  Her attention to detail is remarkable.  Her shoes, black, ankle height, high heeled boots, completely destroy my persona of the older generation.  She is of my grandmother's generation - and I am jealous of her stockinged legs.  Her face is not hard - but stern.  If I were to guess her profession years ago, I would imagine she was a teacher or a principal.  The way she holds her jaw says "No funny business" and "behave yourself."

The majority of people walking by are elderly but spry.  Joining together, obviously familiar with each other, I am the outsider looking in.  I am watching, listening, learning and yet, do not understand yet.  Someday, I will look back at this and perhaps, I will understand.  I hear them speak about  a person who had a heart attack - it is a sharp reminder that yes, I am different.  We aren't speaking about the same news, are we.

In contrast, three high-school aged youth walk past.  Inexperienced eyes meet experienced for a moment of acceptable judgment.  Older people are too boring. This young girl has rainbow coloured hair.  Old people are unable to do anything. Young people are lazy.  It's never said out loud - it may not have even been thought - but it happens often in one way or another.

A mother and child's gleeful cries stop me from furthering down this interesting path of judgment and age.  The child - a little blonde haired girl with shoulder length hair is in a bright green sweater and Ugg-like brown boots.  She runs aimlessly, carefree - but is doing exactly what I am doing - watching people.  Her mother, a pixie-like woman, tiny with blonde hair, runs to catch her.  She takes her daughter down the escalator, letting her leap off and swing in her mothers arms at the bottom.  How big must an escalator be to her little eyes?

My professor interrupts my people-watching to ask about the books I bought at a sale earlier.  Apparently, he is trying to get rid of books but tells me of other sales.  I can't help but notice his glasses - I'm not sure if they are new or just different - dark rimmed.  He has, in my mind, always been the stereotypical appearance of a professor - tan jackets, elbow patches, greying hair, old enough to be respected but young enough to be lively.  He's got an old-school charisma about him.

A young boy - perhaps seven or eight - catches my attention.  He's staring at the bright yellow fountain in baggy black sweatpants and a black cap, just pondering why the water is so bright.  At the same time, the little blonde girl is capturing hearts.  Her father swoops her up as she begins to cough but once she stops, she screams every child's favorite word only once - NO - as he heads for the exit with her.  She's not finished yet.

An elderly man with a walker passes my table.  His back is slightly hunched showing off his bald head.  His face droops slightly giving the appearance of being tired or slightly grumpy.  At one time though, no doubt, he was a handsome strapping man.  He's still tall, rather broad shouldered but thin.  The stories he must have...

Two more children walk past with their parents in tow.  The children are dismissible from my attention - rather average and boring.  The parents, however, are identically dressed in powder blue, long sleeved, button up shirts, and dark blue, almost black, khaki pants.  The woman slightly feminizes her rather masculine appearance and short haircut with three rows of ruffles on either side of the buttons of her shirt.

An elderly gentleman notices a woman coming to join them for coffee.  His group - perhaps four or five - is crowded around a couple of tables.  Being of a different (and perhaps, better) generation, he immediately gets up and gets the woman a chair.  My prejudice got the best of me as I was surprised by his dexterity.  He moved quicker than I could, I'm sure.  While a different generation, I can imagine them younger - enjoying time on the Boardwalk perhaps, probably with different groups or even different boardwalks - but maybe not.

Finally, the elevator music seems to play a conclusion as I check my cellphone for the time.  Yes, this session of people-watching has ended and I, along with the older generation of men and women, head into the museum for the lecture.


The Vodka Diaries

As I sit here drinking vodka, in part because I am pissed and in part because I'm bored (huh, this appears healthy, doesn't it), I am blogging. Why? Because I'm grumpy.

It all started with this guy - as always. So guy - let's call him 'someone' has been sweet, decent, texting all the time, just sort of interestingly adorable...great, right? Oh yeah, until I let him sleep over after a few glasses of wine because it was late and drinking and driving scares me (even a couple drinks)... So he's a little too pushy for my liking. If I say no, I mean no. Maybe I'm just claustrophobic or maybe I'm about to puke from too much wine. Anyways, I wasn't uncomfortable enough to kick him out so he stayed...

So we keep things to a 'PG' but all of a sudden, but the next day, the texts slow to a minimum and then I get booty-called. Are you friggin' kidding me?...I'm NOT into that. There's an enormous difference between 'booty-call' and 'friends with benefits'

Now listen, there is a huge difference friends with benefits and a booty call - I LIKE friends with benefits. I like having someone that I can talk to, hang out with, be FRIENDS with. I don't like this stupid idea of a booty call. I don't want to be used. Ever.

Anyways, he says that's not it at all but it's really funny - he's text. But he offers to come back for a sleepover - yep, sure, goody. Because I really want to sleep over with some guy who can't even be my friend before 8pm. Screw it. I don't want to talk about his sex life, his penis size, what he can 'do for me' that 'no other guy can' (uh huh) and I'm just tired of men yet again. No wonder I gave up on dating for 6 months.

Hookups are a dime a dozen - they're literally 'walk in bar, 15 minutes, walk out' - boring and kind sleezy. I'd rather stick with a good friend...and obviously, 'somebody' is not it.

Monday, April 23, 2012

My conversation with my turtle

After a concoction of interesting pills found in the bottom of my purse (just kidding), my turtle and I had a grand conversation that goes as followed:

Sam- Ludwig, why can't I find a good guy?

Glub glub

Seriously, is it really that hard? Really? I'm not even asking for long term? I'm just asking for someone who knows how to be sweet, still a guy, and fun to hook up with. Are my standards really that high that I can't find anyone in SJ?

Glub slurp gurgle

S- K, I get it - I'm a LITTLE picky. But that's just because I hate wasting my time and seriously, too many guys assume that short skirts= easy...I'm definitely NOT easy...but I would like a warm body to curl up with!


Is it really that hard? Urgh...Ludwig, thank goodness you understand me.

Glub glub burp

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Conversation with my mother

On FB, my mother and I had this conversation...the ugly cat is my mother - well, technically it's my cat Esme but it's my mom's profile picture at the moment.

Here goes:

also did you see Frankie the Capuchin monkey

No I didn't see Frankie...

it's on my wall - so cute!!!!


Awww...cute monkey...Love the chirping sounds he makes.

I know! He made me happy :)

Looks like he enjoyed the blow dryer.

I know..I love him. Mom, can I have a monkey?


Chat conversation end

That pesky list

As per my last blog post I have developed a working list of what I'd expect in actually dating a guy.

1) Education/Smart - It's number 1 on my list because education is important and being smart is sexy. I want both.

2) Healthy - This does not mean a gym rat but I run and try to take care of myself, I'd hope someone did the same for me. No drugs, no smoking.

3) Likes pets - I have a turtle. He'll have to at least accept, if not love it. Same thing goes with dogs and cats. Snakes - no. Just no.

4) Drinking - If you're a nasty drunk, don't drink. Know how to handle your alcohol.

5) Has own friends - I don't want him around 24/7...have the 'boys' and I'll have the 'girls' and we'll meet up later and have a boy/girl moment.

6) Good kisser - If you cannot send shivers down my back, it's not going to work.

7) Manly man- This doesn't mean super-macho, beat people up...but know how to fix a toilet or faucet...I want to feel safe. If you're shorter than me, I don't feel safe (Unless you're a ninja). Don't be whiny...emotional, sure.

8) Temper in check - enough said.

9) If you take longer to get ready to go than I do, I'm sorry this won't work.

10) I am a girl. As one of my friends said "Girls are not F***ed up dudes, they're girls. Learn the art of wooing. (I love that word 'woo')

I'm sure there is more but sadly, I cannot think of any at the moment because I am staring at Ludwig von Turdle-Tinker. What a great pet.

The top ten reasons I'm giving up men again

Realistically, I tend to meet a lot of very interesting guys...once in a great while 'interesting' actually means "Cool guy that I could see myself dating" not "He just got out of the psych ward and his eyes are looking in different directions." The past couple of months I feel as though I've been saying the following constantly to many different guys:

-"No, I don't want to see your penis"

-"I don't care how big it is - I don't want to see it"

-"No, it's not the biggest I've ever seen"

-"If you don't get your hand off my ass, you'll be giving yourself head"

-"No I'm not gay, I'm just not into YOU in particular"

-"Fine, I'm you feel better about your masculinity?"

-"I don't care how fast your car/truck/motorcycle goes, don't care that you have a boat, don't care that you were just that cool in high school"

-"...if you haven't noticed, I'm more of a Happinez/BigTide girl - not Cougars/Tonic"

-"I'm really really not interested...really"

-"wow you're such a great...oh your boyfriend is into...nevermind"

Really, can I please just meet ONE good guy? I'm not asking for much - okay maybe I am. See next blog post for list of what I want in a man.

Shameless Plug

If anyone wants to follow me on Twitter and see my day to day life thoughts - including "I have to pee" and "Wish he didn't live in a different town #bootycall" (I was drinking at the time), please check me out at @TinkerTimes.

Oh Tonic

"Saint John’s biggest and best nightclub is the 3Mile’s Club Tonic with its beautiful European decor, high ceilings, spacious dance floor and fabulous atmosphere! This is our 25+ nightclub catering to the City's young professionals."
-Club Tonic website

I'm not how to say "Stay away from this place it's disgusting" but let me explain

1) You know it's going to be a good night when you look at the bouncer and say "seriously?" and he doesn't ID you...or not. I know I don't look younger than 19 but generally there's these pretty strict rules...

2) When a group of 10 or so girls BOLT from the place when the police show up saying "C'mon we really gotta go"...pretty sure they aren't felons but just underage.

3) When the bouncer rolls his eyes at a girls ID. Hint Hint: It's a fake. I know it is, you know it is, she's quaking in her dress that does not cover her underage ass. Kick her out.

4) When I feel a club...

5) When there's more groping than dancing.

6) When you sit on a seat and it's sticky.

7) When you leave the bar and you're still not feeling it even though there's been 4 shots and a drink in less than 1.5 hours.

8) When a guy picks a fight with a bunch of girls...yep, good call buddy.

Admittedly I had a wonderful night out with friends and was so glad to see my dear past-roommate Samantha Shauher (Awesome name, eh?). Just saying stay away from Tonic unless you want to be drenched in other people's sweat, beer and groped. If you're into that, head out!