This is a sunset! Ohmigod! The Space Needle!!!
This entry was written by , posted on January 10, 2010 at 10:38 pm, filed under seattle and tagged eastlake, seattle, space needle. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Tonight has not yet happened. 2010 has not yet happened. But this is what might have happened:
At the stroke of midnight I was nowhere near a girl and nowhere near mistletoe. I was at the other end of the roof terrace, vomiting over a railing. No one saw me doing it, and I didn’t tell anyone I did it. It was the first time I had puked in a long time, and I blame it on cigarettes.
I only smoke cigarettes when I’m really drunk. I hate them otherwise. Granted, I HAVE smoked cigarettes sober before, but it’s different when I’m sober. It’s a calculated decision. It’s me saying, “OK, I’m bored as fuck right now, so I’m going to smoke a cigarette. I know it’s going to make me feel like shit, but I don’t care — I want to get high.”
On Mina’s roof terrace I must have smoked at least 10 cigarettes. It was Rachel’s fault. The Marb Lights appeared before me as if on a conveyor belt, and I kept sucking them down. We weren’t really even talking — in fact, I think 50 percent of the time she had her back to me, but she still kept handing me cigarettes. This was after I had just gotten done chugging a bottle of champagne by myself in the bathroom. Why I brought it into the bathroom is a mystery. Why I decided to chug it is not.
It has always been assumed that if any kissing is going to happen on New Year’s Eve it’s going to happen at the stroke of midnight. This was not the case for me. I ended up kissing a girl named Cassandra (or rather she kissed me) at 9:30pm. I did not want to kiss her. She was not attractive and had a personality that reminded me of the face of a pug. Her laugh — high pitched followed by a guttural guffaw — sounded like a zebra getting punched in the stomach. She would also yelp and say, “Oh my God, I know exactly what you’re talking about!” after everything anyone said. At one point I ventured that I had been extremely constipated the week before just to see if she would say, “Oh my God I know exactly what you’re talking about!” but she was too busy paying attention to another conversation, one which involved the return policy of leather boots at Nordstrom.
When I walked out on the balcony to have my first cigarette of the night, Cassandra followed me. She had on a short black dress displaying pasty calves. The upper part of the dress had some lace that was less than flattering and reminded me of my Grandmother’s funeral. Before I could take a drag off the cigarette, she pulled me towards her and pressed her large red lips against my face. Not my lips. My face. Her lips were big enough to cover a decent portion of my face, and after she was done kissing me she tugged thoughtfully on my scarf and scampered back inside. It was the last time I would see her that night, though I would acutely remember the feeling of her lips on the area just beneath my nose when I vomited over the balcony railing a few hours later.
After vomiting, I made my way down to the street. It was 12:05 am, the fifth minute of 2010. I walked along Broadway in the general direction of my house, and vaguely wondered why I had gone to the party in the first place. I had talked to practically no one, drunk entirely too much, and gotten kissed by a girl who reminded me of a dog. The highlight of the night — by far — was walking home: knowing that it was over, knowing that my bed awaited me, and knowing that tomorrow, or rather today, I could start to forget my last night of 2009.
This entry was written by , posted on December 31, 2009 at 8:42 pm, filed under Capitol Hill, alcohol, master cleanse and tagged 2010, alcohol, bars, Capitol Hill, drinking, new year's eve, nightlife, partying, seattle, sex. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
This entry was written by , posted on November 21, 2009 at 1:58 pm, filed under Chipotle, The Bark and Marry, Uncategorized and tagged eastlake, new moon, party, rob dyrdek, seattle, twilight. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
We are nearing the gloomiest time of the year. For a few weeks, the sunset will hover right around 4:18pm in the afternoon. This is early. Not as early as some places (Bellingham), but still pretty early. To combat the gloom, I have provided a least of guaranteed pick-me-ups that can be utilized as needed:
1) John Williams, Theme from “Last of the Mohicans”
I mentioned this one yesterday, but I will mention it again today. If you’re feeling down, or un-motivated, and you WANT to feel like you could wrestle a saber-toothed tiger, listen to this song. It doesn’t get old.
2) Odwalla, C Monster or B Monster
C Monster if you’re feeling sick or like you might be getting sick. B Monster if you want large amounts of vitamin B and therefore large amounts of energy.
3) Exercise
Yesterday I was sitting in my apartment, wondering what it might be like to jump off the balcony, when my friend Ryan called me to go skateboarding. After skateboarding I felt like a million dollars (Canadian dollars). You need exercise because you need to get your metabolism going and because your lungs were meant to pump oxygen — not stale, indoor apartment air. You also need exercise because you’re fat.
4) A nice, sober chat with an animated friend
If you don’t have energy, steal it from someone else. A little social contact with a friend more animated than yourself will do the trick. Find a cozy coffee shop or a low-key eatery and talk at length about one to two topics you’re both passionate about. If you can’t find something you’re both passionate about, talk about something your friend is passionate about (he/she will be more animated). Suggestions: Is Paris Hilton sexually attractive?, Is it cool to “hate” Starbucks?, What would Bill Gates look like naked?
5) Stretching
See: exercise.
6) Retail Therapy
Sometimes it really, really works. Just make sure you buy something you like. If you buy something you don’t like, you will feel even gloomier than before. And there’s nothing worse than retail depression.
Today, the only one of these I’ve applied so far is number one (I’ve listened to “Last of the Mohicans” seven times). However, I hope to apply all six, or at least all six excluding “Retail Therapy,” due to the fact that I hate shopping.
…And when all else fails, drink a beer!
This entry was written by , posted on November 15, 2009 at 4:21 pm, filed under Morning Coffee Break, seattle and tagged party, rain, seasonal affective disorder, seattle. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Photo Courtesy: Morgan Kokenge
This entry was written by , posted on June 3, 2009 at 12:41 am, filed under Uncategorized and tagged arboretum bride, montlake cut, seattle, uw. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
http://lookatthisfuckinghipster.tumblr.com/
Credit: Big Bird
This entry was written by , posted on April 17, 2009 at 8:44 pm, filed under Uncategorized and tagged Capitol Hill, fuck my life, hipster, seattle. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
everyone — a quick word about St. Patrick’s day:
First off, I want you all to be safe. Drinking green beer is fun, but do you know what they use to make the green beer green? Formaldehyde. And mercury. Also, when you’re doing Irish car bombs tonight, make sure you don’t tip your pint glasses up too quickly because the shot glass might slide up and chip your teeth. I’ve heard of them actually being banned in places for this reason. Also, don’t drink and drive. Or drink and ride busses. Or drink and walk really fast. If you’re going to drink and indulge in any form of transportation, make sure it’s either walking slowly or tiptoeing. If I see a bunch of you tiptoeing down the AVE later I’ll know you got this memo in time.
Secondly, if you should find yourself talking to a member of the opposite sex tonight and he/she is not wearing green and you want to pinch him/her to be flirty but aren’t really sure if you should do it — definitely do it! Nothing bad can come of it, and a night of gratuitous sex possibly can. Remember: Love is blind, but not color blind.
Thirdly, and this isn’t really my recommendation but more of a recommendation from the Seattle Police Department: Do not drink in public. However, since you’re going to anyway, let me tell you a good place to go. Down by Portage Bay just south of the Health Sciences buildings in the University of Washington there is a rock retaining wall that has about three feet of beach between it and the waters of Portage Bay. I went there two days ago with a friend and we sat wedged up against the wall and drank beer we had recently purchased at a convenience store while we felt the breeze come off the water and watched boats go by. It was uncomfortable, it was cold, and I’m 25-years-old. However, the day I stop drinking in public is the day I move to Provo, Utah and become a eunuch. The deviance felt while drinking in public is the only reason to do it. If they ever legalize it and do away with the $38 dollar tickets they currently give out if you got caught I’m sure I’d never do it again. Except maybe at Madison Park. In the summer.
Fourthly, don’t go to Kells tonight. That place is so fucking lame. They’re charging $20 bucks to get in to watch some shitty “Irish” bands play shitty Irish “folk” music, and all you get for the $20 is some shitty t-shirt, overpriced drinks, the company of Neanderthals, and, like I just explained, the opportunity to listen to shitty music.
Fifthly, I’m sort of just rambling right now so I can get up to saying “seventhly” and “eighthly.”
Sixthly, you probably shouldn’t go to Fado, either. That place is lame.
Seventhly, yes, saying “seventhly” was pretty satisfying, but I have a feeling saying “eighthly” will be even better.
Eighthly, I was right.
Have fun!
-Wetzler
This entry was written by , posted on March 17, 2009 at 4:31 pm, filed under alcohol and tagged bars, beer, nightlife, party, seattle, st. patrick's day. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Rippin’ it
Dear Faithful Readers,
By last count there were roughly 42 of you. Why do I use the word “roughly” with the seemingly precise integer “42?” Well, it’s complicated, and you’re not a statistician. So don’t ask questions. The other day apparently there were around “60″ of you. 60! I don’t even know 60 people, so that made me feel pretty good. Actually, the thing that made me feel awesome was when I went to a bar the other night and a friend of a friend recognized me just because of the “blog.” I had never met this girl in my life. She asked me “How Hawaii was.” So as you can see, I’m already famous.
Fame has its downsides, though. I have to wear those hats with the really curvy bills pulled down tight over my eyes all the time so people don’t recognize me. That or really huge sunglasses. The other day at Chipotle some chick was harassing me for an autograph and she scratched me with her newly manicured nails. I screamed “How dare you” and scratched her back. Nobody messes with me when I’m at Chipotle.
Another fairly annoying thing about being famous is the paparazzi. These days everyone has a point and shoot camera, so everyone is a potential paparazzi (or paparazzette). So far nothing too bad has happened but I’m really worried that one of these days I’m going to be getting out of my car and someone’s going to take a really awful crotch shot and put it all over the internet. Right now I don’t have a car so I guess that’s not very likely to happen. But maybe some one will do it when I’m riding the bus. I take the 71 all the time.
In health news I have stopped drinking again ever since my and Darren’s trip to Ensenada. I’ve replaced the drinking, however, with gross amounts of junk food and frozen pizzas. Tonight I polished off a frozen Tony’s pepperoni pizza to myself, which is bad and clocks and at around 1000 calories but isn’t as bad as it used to be because their pizzas have gotten smaller. One of the reasons I haven’t been drinking is because I’ve had a cold, which I’ve been combating by ingesting around 20000 mg of vitamin c a day.
As far as employment goes, I’m still interning at El Extranjero. I’m confused because a lot of the time people there aren’t that warm to me. I mean, some of them are, but most of the people haven’t even introduced themselves. I think most of them look at me and think, “Oh, there’s that new intern. I’ve heard about him. He’s going to be huge,” and they’re kind of intimidated and it’s just easier to walk past my desk without really making eye contact. Or something.
In travel news the next Where’s Wetzler? trip will be this weekend, though to where I do not yet know. I might do it in the same format as the last one, i.e. post photos but never really reveal the location. Keep you guys guessing. Make you study those maps. Do you study maps? Study those maps. I was in the 8th Grade Geography Bee. I got out on the first question because I confused longitude with latitude. Study those maps.
Fondly,
Wetzler
P.S. Natalie Berry
This entry was written by , posted on March 2, 2009 at 12:51 am, filed under Capitol Hill, Uncategorized, master cleanse, the boot and tagged agoodreed, friends, seattle, seinfeld, uw, vancityallie, yobeat, your mother. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
I made it back from Ensenada OK. Darren and I had a rough bus ride back to Tijuana. I think both of us spent the majority of the time with our heads in our laps, wishing the curves would be straight, wishing we were back in Seattle.
At our hostel in San Diego, the first hosteling international hostel I had ever stayed at, we had the pleasure of one of the worst nights of sleep either of us had ever experienced. Actually, I’m exaggerating. It was bad, but I was so out of it from being tired after our Ensenada bender and in the midst of a wicked cold that I came down with after a night of thinking that drinking a lot of Tecate would keep me warm that I didn’t really notice all the weird stuff going on in our room and just kind of tried to keep my eyes shut.
The first weird thing in our room was Ricky. Ricky had on blue camo pants and a sleeveless Ozzy Osbourne shirt. Within five minutes of getting to the room he asked me if I wanted to try the Tostino’s party pizza he had just made, and after I said “no” he just kind of stood around, eating loudly and looking at me. Ricky must’ve been at least 34.
The second weird thing was a guy who came in at about four in the morning carrying a trumpet case who loudly made his bed and each time he got in bed made an “AHHHHH” type yawning noise as if to announce to the room that he was, in fact, going to sleep. He did this several times.
The third weird thing was a guy in our room who I’m pretty sure was homeless who kept reminding Ricky “not to lose that phone number.” He would get up out of his bed, walk across the room, shake Ricky and say, “Hey Ricky–you better not lose that phone number.” He had on black socks and his feet smelled.
Anyway, all of these things coupled with the fact that I was sick and did not want to be in a bunk bed in a room with a bunch of strangers made for a sub-par night of sleep. The next morning there was a “bountiful” pancake breakfast that consisted of two juice pitchers filled with pancake batter, and several mustard containers filled with cold syrup.
Now I am home–still sick, but home–and it is great to be in Seattle. Every time I come home I realize how much I love this place. The first time I really figured it out was when I came back home after my first semester of college at Arizona State, a semester that was spent drinking six-dollar fifths of “Winner’s Cup” vodka (it’s a misnomer–nobody wins) and not attending my 8:40am calculus class. I remember coming home and thinking how fresh the air smelled—how it smelled like pine trees and saltwater, and how the water didn’t taste like anything at all. The water in Arizona tastes like dirt. And I sat down in my parents house and watched “Harsh Barge” and was content.
Now, tonight, despite the fact that I have a cold, I am still content. I just made myself a mug of chamomile tea and will drink it and go to sleep.
I hope all of you are content, too.
-Wetzler
Next on Where’s Wetzler: Seattle is good but Portland is better! Where’s Wetzler’s first ever guest columnist explains why…
This entry was written by , posted on February 25, 2009 at 1:22 am, filed under Uncategorized and tagged chamomile, gwen stefani, home, seattle. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
It is cold today, and I am worried about the old people. Old people do not do well in extreme weather. They like it one temperature and one temperature only, and that temperature is 76 degrees Fahrenheit. Anything lower and they reach for a sweater and ear muffs, anything higher and they lie sweating in their La-Z-Boys, waiting for death or the “heat wave” to pass or whichever comes first.
Today in Renton a senior citizen will attempt to walk her Scottish terrier and be found two days later huddled for warmth under the bough of a sumac tree. She will have survived by licking water off pine needles and gnawing on pieces of bark. The Scottish terrier will have eaten its own tail. Hey, it could happen. All I’m saying is: take care of your old people.
Yesterday was a monumental day for Where’s Wetzler?, thanks to Christopher Frizzelle at The Stranger, who put up a blog I wrote a few days ago about losing my mind in Capitol Hill. So far this has led to more traffic on Where’s Wetzler? and consequently more Seattleites wondering where the last ten minutes of their lives went. It has also led to me looking up the word “vicissitudes” in the dictionary.
Oh crap, my dad is about to go outside and he’s not even wearing a jacket. Be right back.
-Wetzler
This entry was written by , posted on December 15, 2008 at 1:05 pm, filed under Capitol Hill and tagged cold, renton, scottish terrier, seattle, senior citizens, sumac, the stranger, vicissitudes. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.