CHRIS WALKER VS. THE BEER FEST

So, wouldn’t you know it: I didn’t make it to my BodyPump or BodyFlow class on Saturday morning. I attribute this to not setting my alarm clock and waking up at 8:15 AM (class started at 8:00 AM); had I woken up at 7:45 AM I would’ve gone. Oh well, there’s always next Saturday.

As I mentioned before, I went to a Beer Fest for some charity on Friday night. It was pretty epic. Not because it was good, per say, but because there were copious amounts of pre-paid booze everywhere. Otherwise it would’ve sucked. There were not 70 breweries present, as I was initially led to believe; they were the same breweries that attend every Reno beer event (which isn’t bad, just not as face-rocking as 70 breweries). Smirnoff had the balls to show up next to the Guinness booth, of all places. The band (as if one was necessary) was some shit-tastic, poorly-aging, smooth-rock act which, I repeat, was shit-tastic. To top it off, the crowd was essentially a high school reunion peppered with a couple other people I could go a lifetime without seeing. Thank God there was alcohol. And, you know, I never did find out what charity it supported.

This was my conversation with practically every single girl I talked to:
Any Given Girl: “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Me: “Of course I do, you went to my high school.”
Any Given Girl: “Okay, what’s my name?”
Me: “I have no clue.”

Sometimes the conversation would progress into me learning their name (which I may or may not’ve immediately forgotten), others would lead to me becoming bored and having to be sucked away by the gravitational pull of a beer booth (you had to be there). Hands down, though, my favorite conversation came in the form of some…(I’m thinking of ways to be nice)…some woman who works with my friend Brian. Let’s call her: No Thanks.

For some reason music became a topic while talking to No Thanks. I told her Brian and I were music snobs (which is only halfway true) and I’d been listening to a lot of electronic music, lately. No Thanks wanted to get into a music debate with me. I wasn’t interested so, I blew her off and went looking for Chuck (you know him from Chris Walker Vs. Robots In Disguise). Near the end of the Beer Fest I got trapped into talking to No Thanks again and – in her stocky, beer-fueled adamancy – she still wanted to engage me in a musical dispute. Regrettably, I indulged her. Although I can’t recall our entire conversation verbatim (nor do I want to) here were some of the highlights:

No Thanks: “So, what do you mean you’re a music snob?”
Me: “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

No Thanks: “So what kind of electronic music do you listen to?”
Me: “I never said I listened to electronic music; I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

Me: “Okay, what do you listen to?”
No Thanks: “My all-time favorite band is The Smiths. [Name of most obscure Smiths’ album] is my favorite album.”
Me: That’s great. I love Morrissey.”

As you can see: clearly stimulating conversation. The whole time I kept thinking, “WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR LIKE TWO SECONDS! JESUS CHRIST! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND QUIT RUINING MY LIFE!”

Chuck knows what I’m talking about.

Near the end of the Beer Fest I had the brilliant idea of taking half Raspberry Stout from…some brewery and mixing it with Guinness. This was after I found out the girl at the Guinness booth was making Black and Tans. Unfortunately, everyone had been “getting their drink on” at a much faster pace than I and the brewery with the Raspberry Stout was already out. In fact, booth after booth was shutting down and I had little more than a buzz going. At that point I reduced myself to drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and as I write this I am cursing the amount of time I spent enduring No Thanks while missing out on beer. I have since vowed to never talk to people like her again.

And that sums up the Beer Fest, basically: the same beer I’ve been drinking forever, fat chicks, not-so-fat chicks, annoying chicks, and Sean “Sapphire” Dennison and I in sport coats. To be honest, I did talk to a couple cool/interesting girls who didn’t weight 200 pounds or annoy the shit out of me. They were far and few between but they were there. I just thought you’d want to hear about the funny parts rather than, “OMG, we had so much fun! Like, all these people were there and there was this one chick – she was so cute. We like talked about puppy dogs and ice cream for a like twenty full minutes!” No one wants to read that; I feel like an asshole for writing it.

CHRIS WALKER VS. DRINKING FOR A GOOD CAUSE

I had a feeling I was going to get a ton of shit after I wrote about the whole Shiny Toy Guns ordeal and, boy, was I right. It seems like I can’t hang out with anyone without hearing, “Hey, have you heard of Shiny Toy Guns? I heard they’re good.” What can I say, my friends abuse me. And rightly so.

I’m going to a fund-raiser tonight and by fundraiser I mean a beer fest (with 70 breweries!) I have to pay $40 to get into.

It’ll be like this. Only not as cool. And with less Germans, presumably.

You should come; the money goes to a good cause. What cause exactly I’m not sure, the deterioration of my liver, maybe? Honestly, I don’t want to go because I have BodyPump and BodyFlow classes to attend tomorrow morning and drinking and working out are a nasty combination. Yes, I am a gay for saying that but I tell you what – this fat ass isn’t going to get in shape by itself! So there. I guess I’ll just have to behave myself *.

* Yes, that was a lie; I am clearly delusional.

CHRIS WALKER VS. SIMPLE LESSONS IN LOVE AND SUCESSION

So, the long-overdue San Francisco story; here it is:

Baron von Luxxury (of the band Luxxury) and I went to see St. Vincent at Bimbo’s 365 – an awesome show at an awesome venue. Annie Clark’s voice is incredible and she’s as sweet as can be. She didn’t play “All My Stars Aligned” to my dismay, nevertheless; her set was pure magic. If you can catch her play live – do. It’s beyond worth it.

Stream St. Vincent’s music on MySpace.

After chatting with Annie about the delay of her debut album – and Norwegian, Viking, prostitutes doing blow (don’t ask) – Baron and I went to Rickshaw Stop to see Every Move a Picture. Remember them? You don’t? It’s okay, evidently San Francisco hasn’t forgotten; they’re still a big deal there. Kind of. I guess. Whatever, I took pictures.

[MP3] Every Move a Picture: Simple Lessons in Love and Sucession

Rickshaw Stop was a totally different scene from Bimbo’s; we went from being surrounded by indie-scenesters to electro-indie-
scenesters. I’m not entirely sure what the difference is but I know there is one. I think it’s something to do with the shade of black they wear.

All kidding aside, indie kids are super nice but the electro-indie kids seemed to like Baron and I a lot more and the sentiment was returned. I don’t know whether it’s Baron’s hat or the fact high school girls can just sense awesomeness but he and I were a huge hit. We mingled with a handful of legitimately cool/nice people, shared drinks with social climbers, and even endured a coke-head claiming to be the guitar player for Hot Hot Heat. San Francisco’s finest, basically.

When Every Move a Picture took the stage (around midnight or so) I took some pictures and failed at dancing for awhile. I also drank several Beam and Diets which, although not necessarily delicious, has quickly become my “new” drink. After the show Baron and I picked up Mrs. Baron, headed back my hotel, and I left my cell phone in the back of Baron’s car. Overall, a stellar night soundtracked by some great music – most of it played in Baron’s car. More on that in the coming days.

Anyway, I’m back to posting everyday. More music, more stories, more mayhem. Bands and Booze: Round Three is quickly developing and I couldn’t be more excited. Stay tuned.