As a nightlife writer, I have spent a lot of time in front of the bar... but I've never really spent any time behind it. My resume has everything from teacher to TV to Disney intern to an arcade manager, but I have never bartended in my life, and I never took Mixology 101 in college.
The first time I even stepped behind the bar was at Whisky River in which I invented a cocktail, the Slutty Shirley Temple.
My friend, DJ Jazzy Jimmy, always texts me asking me to do random shit — such as judge the Snook-a-like contest and host a Sex and the City party — has asked me to guest bartend.
I signed up to publicly humiliate myself because I saw it as a way to raise money for Mike Minter's I Am a Foot Soldier camps, and I will use all tips I earn to sponsor kids for either his football camp or my dance camp!
So in risk of sounding like a mass text I get every weekend ... After Alive After Five tonight come see me at Whisky River slinging bottles for kids and bartending for charity. There is something about that that just doesn't sound right ... but you know what I mean.
I am secretly hoping everyone orders beers, or Slutty Shirley Temples so I can know what I'm doing. But even though I probably won't deserve a tip because you'll have to tell me what kind of liquor to pour in your shot ... the kids deserve it.
There's nightlife ... then there's nightlife so good that you literally make a night of it, and it turns into over-nightlife. Now I'm not talking about staying up all night snorting Red Bull, or doing the horizontal mumbo that results in waking up to do the walk of shame (or stride of pride as I prefer to call it).
I'm talking about adult slumber parties, such as camping. That's right ... camping.
Last Sunday I woke up on the ground, with the freshly risen sun shining through the screen of a tent like a spotlight, so hot it dried the layer of dew covering my body — while an off-key mockingbird was singing like a rooster. I'd gone country ... back to my roots. I roughed it for the weekend in the mountains surrounding Virginia Tech with my old college girls. And girls we were.
When pitching the tent after installing the poles, we realized their flimsiness made them good for fly-slash-spear fishing. So we proceeded to take them down to the river to fish, but then gave up after five minutes. Eventually, we got it up (the tent that is), and our temporary home stood even longer than the first two little pigs' homes did.
We retreated to the camp fire to have a little jam session with bongos and other unknown instruments — such as a stick with little jingle bells attached to it. We deemed this "Bells on a Stick" and proceeded to sing a song about it to the tune of the song "Pants on the Ground" ... "sounding like a fool with your bells on a stick" (you may had to have been there).
The worst thing about camping is the lack of water — to drink and bathe in. So we took our water bottles and had a water chugging contest. I felt and looked like a hippie … I was wondering if bugs were flying toward me because I smelled so bad. I started dousing myself in insect repellent hoping it would make my skin and blood a little less appetizing for the insects. Kinda like dipping a wing in blue cheese ... the condiment just ruins the flavor.
I've been obsessed with camping since and have asked around and scoured the Internet for places to go camping in and around Charlotte. And my research findings have led me to the conclusion that there aren't many places to go camping in or around Charlotte.
There's a campground in Carowinds, and being the home of NASCAR, there are countless RV lots. There are places to camp on Lake Norman, but it's illegal ... I'm not sure if taking a nap or passing out counts under that law, though. But it is legal on Lake Wylie — there's the McDowell Nature preserve and KOA in Fort Mill. There's also King’s Mountain, where I've been warned it's illegal to have alcohol.
Where else can one go camping in the concrete jungle? You tell me.
My friends and I wanted to go camping so badly last night that we got my tent that was conveniently still ready for use in the trunk of my car, and pitched it on the the roof of my Uptown parking garage … don’t try this at home kids. I got off lucky that the security guard in my building could be bribed with S'mores ice cream.
They say a picture is worth 1,000 words ... so I'll just let this one speak for itself:
Yes, that is Coolio and Rob Schneider, hanging out together at the Galway Hooker. While Deuce Bigalow was on stage at the Lake Norman Comedy Zone, the king of the gangsta's paradise was on stage at Uptown Ampitheater before coming to see Rob's final show last night. Now that is what I call: "Hip-Hop Anonymous" — and random.
YOU CAN DOOOOO IT! Rob proved that he really can do it — as in be as funny live as he is in his movies. Of course he performed his famous lines for us. His jokes were almost comforting in a sense — he was deriving humor out of things going on in the world that we otherwise stress over.
Rob is not just a great character actor, but he's also an overall great character — and perhaps one of the nicest, most down-to-earth celebrities I've ever met. (Despite the fact that he picked on my friend for getting up in the middle of the show to use the restroom. Why do comedians always hackle people for getting up to pee? ... when you make us laugh that hard you put us at risk for peeing in our pants — especially someone with a full bladder.)
There was another comedy show at the Hooker last night ... starring my uterus.
One of the members of Coolio's entourage announced after the show that I was his future baby's mama.
"Did he just call dibs on my uterus?" How does one respond to that? I don't know about normal people, but I gave him a lecture about how my uterus is not a vacant real estate lot he could fertilize. "Do you already have a baby's mama?" my friend asked him. No response.
A Comedy Zone is opening soon in Charlotte. I'll give you details as soon as they give them to me, but I did coerce them into giving me hints, which led me to the conclusion it may be heading to Elizabeth. Also, Michael Waltrip, who was in attendance, is starting his own comedy garage tour.
The best thing about the Sex and the City 2 movie coming out is that it serves as a legitimate excuse to have a Ladies' Night out, every week.
Strike and the City is the new weekly Ladies' Night on Thursdays (at Strike City obviously). It is so elaborate for the ladies, it'll make men jealous we wear the tampons (in addition to the pants). The bowling alley transforms into a Utopia for women that includes massages, half priced martinis and a skinny app menu, Sex and the City airing on the televisions, and lots and lots of free shit. I even gave away some Gucci shoes...
The deal is, you get there around 8 p.m. - or just wander in from Alive After Five - and trade your shoes for bowling shoes. I will then select a shoe that will be matched to a number on the bowling shoe rental. If you have that number I will then trade you the bowling shoes, for a pair of red Gucci heels. It kinda made me feel like Prince Charming looking for my Cinderella ... but shouldn't it be the other way around?
Anyway... every time you get a strike you are registered for a raffle to win things like a Michael Kors clutch, an hour massage from Drift Spa, a personal training session and tickets to see the comedy show Girl's Only. And even if you don’t win, you still get a swag bag just for coming. Striiiiiiike!
Each week there will be a specialty martini - and when you order it, the proceeds go to the National MS Society. Might I suggest drinking that so you can justify ordering more than one. Drinking for a good cause ... I’ll cheers to that. The Walk MS is coming up May 15 by the way.
Speaking of Sex and the City 2... the official pre-screening event is at EpiCentre Theaters on May 26. And starting next Wednesday we'll be giving away VIP passes to the premiere. Don't you just love free shit!
Oh yes, it's ladies night, and the feeling's right - oh yes it's ladies night - oh what a, oh what a night! Sing it with me now ...
In my column currently out in print: The EpiCentre vs The NC Music Factory, I said that there is no boxing match or cockfight between the two nightlife entities.
Yet, when I went to the EpiCentre last night to check out the new Mortimer’s Café and Pub and shop around for some nightlife, I was approached by some EpiCentre employees who reamed me about said article arguing that the EpiCentre is much, much better. For starters, it was not only busy and bumping, but actually open on a Wednesday night. Touché. They even went so far as to claim that all the bars within the radius of 4th to 7th Street between Church and College count as the EpiCentre when going up against the NC Music Factory.
Fitting that I went to a UFC fight later. As I was watching two grown men beat the shit out of each other, I couldn’t help but picture EpiCentre and NC Music Factory bouncers in there fighting one another … but perhaps we can opt for a bartender’s battle.
As a girl the best thing about going to a UFC fight is not having to stand in line for the bathroom – especially when you start your period in the middle of the fight. Note to Bojangles arena – can you put some tampon dispensers in the ladie’s bathrooms please. There’s nothing like a having wad of toilet paper shoved up your vagina to ruin a good time.
Anyway, I'm sorry I lied to you ... here are pictures of Mortimers and more fight pics.
Cool Kids Collective are a collection of cool kids with instruments that know how to make good music. And they're coming to Whisky River tomorrow for an April Fool's Party. Seriously. Not fooling. There's even a poster, as proof ...
To be honest with you, I am not going to put my name on something unless it is going to be a good time. Because if it's not fun, well then I don't want to be there either.
Because this is a blog and not a public posting of my schedule, I am going to go ahead and just knock out what other events I'm involved with this month ...
I'm on the panel for this ...
And I'm a commentator for this ...
Oh, and one more thing ... I am giving away 100 VIP Passes to the remaining home regular season Bobcats games, via my Twitter. Follow to find out how to get in on that action.
By Chandler Smith-Currie
If you are looking for good music, cold beer and a “boot stompin', shit kickin’, hell raising good time” ... then City Limits Saloon is where you should go. According to manager, Kevin Frazier, City Limits is not as traditional as Coyote Joe’s and not as upscale as Whiskey River. It is a nice alternative for country and non-country fans.
I went into City Limits expecting to see the same layout and decor of what was previously Buckwild; however, they completely renovated the ambiance. The place looked great with its red, white and blue country theme. And the painting of Johnny Cash flippin’ the bird on the wall behind the stage was a nice touch. It made even my hip-hop loving self was ready to throw on some cowboy boots and start line dancing.
I don’t get society’s obsession with celebrities — do we worship them for being flawless, or fixate on their flaws to make ourselves feel flawless? And I have never been one to obsess over hot celebrity guys… I don’t see all the hype about Brad Pitt, and I realize Mr. Big is a fictional character. But after my friend Jackie introduced me to the MTV show Rob Dyrdek's Fantasy Factory, I found myself wanting to date, fall in love and have babies with professional skateboarder Rod Dyrdek.
That man is an exact replica of the portrait of the perfect man I have painted in my head. He's creative, adventurously athletic, quirky, positive thinking, fun and funny, street (and business) smart, altruistic, sexy skater boy, surrounded by cool people, dog loving… all of which I picked up on by watching one episode.
I had to be sure that he was not a fictional-reality-character, and that he is for real… so I suggested to Jackie that we watch the entire season on her DVR. I fell in love that night… not necessarily with Rob Dyrdek, but with the idea that the perfect man does in fact exist — if in Hollywood, then definitely in real life. Maybe I won’t have to settle for less than the full package after all. And with that, Rob and his power animals became my first celebrity crush since Joey from New Kids on the Block.
Fast forward a year...
Now that I have deemed an unattainable man as the unrequited love of my life, you can imagine my reaction when I walked into East in Hollywood to eat with Patrycja, the girl with whom I switched cities with for the show Holidate, and there sat Rob Dyrdek at the bar, having a drink with his manager on the show.
...was the Friday night I couldn’t find anything to eat after 11 p.m.
I got off a plane and went directly from the airport to Belk Theater to see Spring Awakening, where afterward I led the Q&A talk-back with the cast. I hadn’t eaten a thing all day other than the travel-size bag of pretzels they gave me on the plane — and there's nothing like theatrical porn to work up an appetite. Thus, following the show I was so hungry I almost started gnawing on my hair.
So, we went to Dandelion Market … but the kitchen was closed. And for the record, they should go ahead and change the name to meat market. But you can’t eat that meat and I was too hungry to stay and flirt.
So, we went to Nix Burgers and Brew … closed
Only options in Uptown at this point are Sushi at Enso, or the places I only go when I’m drunk … and I had no intentions of drinking, let alone coating my stomach with grease. As much as I love Phil’s fried pickles, my body was craving a real meal since I’d been neglecting to nurture it all day. And my friends didn’t want sushi. So, we ventured out of Uptown scavenging nightlife like vultures in search of food.
I would like to thank Charlotte nightlife for coincidentally and conveniently opening clubs on my birthday. My first year here, it was Forum. Last year, it was Strike City … this year, Butter. I guess this means we share a birthday. They’re even talking about Butter NC in N.Y.C., on Page 6 of the New York Post.
But before I went to do the Land-o-Lake shake at Butter, I went to NASCAR night at the arena. That’s right… I had a birthday party at a Bobcats game! It’s even cooler than Chuck-e-Cheese, and without the two-beer limit. You can read about how one even has a birthday party in the arena and see the photo gallery on the Bobcats Break blog.
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