The Other Side

Day 2 of the Sobriety Manifesto. So far, so good.

Last night I went to Kenne's birthday party at the new Busby's on Wilshire just west of La Brea.

btw, I'm purportedly stone cold sober in the pic above. I know. Frightening, isn't it.

Anyway, back to Busby's. In my mind, no argument is strong enough to convince me that Busby's was a franchise that deserved to be cloned from its fratty incarnation in Santa Monica. But the bar was admittedly, fine, not overly crowded, and (here's the important part): they had a foosball table!

More establishments should have foosball tables. You don't see them very often in LA. I know of one at Barney's Beanery, which I generally try to avoid because I feel it represents evil. The problem is, some people mistake Barney's Beanery for a "cool" dive bar. People: it's not. I like dive bars. Barney's Beanery is a Hollywoodesque faux-dive that falls under the same classification as such offensive establishments as Miyagis and Saddle Ranch. You should already be familiar with the client base; girls who carry dogs in purses do not go to dive bars. It is my theory that between the three bars in this cheesy trifecta exists the exact location where the Von Dutch trucker hat rose to power back in 2002. (Who remembers 2002! I do!)

Anyway, so I am in Busby's, completely sober, and not even convinced that alcohol would improve my opinon of the place. I try to keep my spirits up by ordering an Arnold Palmer (a "fun" sober bevvie! caffeine and sugar!). They can not accomodate me. I get a sparkling water. Yay.

And then, we spot it: the foosball table! That will be my salvation!

I'm really good at foosball. No, really. I am. Challenge me. I will beat you. I beat boys. Overconfident ones, at that. I beat rugby players in Scotland. I cannot throw darts, I cannot play pool, but I can kick your ass at foosball. Let me put it this way, I am more confident about my foosball skills than my bowling skills, and by now if you have been reading The Heathernet AT ALL, you should know I take my bowling very seriously.

So foosball! I love it. It saved me. I got thoroughly hydrated, played a few rounds, and destroyed the morale of my competitors. All without the benefit of alcohol!

So what's the moral of the story? Well, Kenne didn't make it into work this morning. And good for him, it was his damn birthday, after all. But me? I went home, read a script, and woke up at my normal time, 20 minutes after the alarm goes off. So... success! 1 night down, just 39 to go...