Drunk-Dialing : The Light Comic Opera

We’ve blogged on occasion about the infamous drink and dial – that decision to call someone in the middle of the night and share with them the penetrating truths that have come to you after half a bottle of Jack Daniels and three keg stands. Who doesn’t enjoy getting a call at 3am from someone who is ready either to take you for an unwanted drunken stumble down nostalgia lane, or to tell you that they just figured out what went wrong in your relationship and, surprise, surprise, the blame does not lie with the lush making the call.

In our tome of drunken exploits, “The Man Who Scared a Shark To Death: And Other True Tales of Drunken Debauchery,” we chronicle the tale of quite possibly the oldest immature drunk dialer, a 52-year-old Danish man who was playing with his toy ships in the bath when he decided to phone the local sea rescue unit and inform them that one of his ships was in danger of capsizing. They actually sent rescue boats to look for the sinking ship... He had to pay a hefty fine for the lark. We also mention in the book Virgin Mobile Australia’s plan to combat drink dialing by allowing their users to ban all incoming calls from suspect drink-dialers between the hours of 12am-6pm. It’s a good plan.

As much as we’ve written about the drink-and-dial, and as many such calls as we’ve made, we have yet to put the phenomenon to a tune. (Editor’s Note: We are, however, working on a Jerky Boys-like album of crank calls in which we phone up bars that don’t serve food and get increasingly testy with them when they refuse to take our lunch orders. “Alright, ya goof, ya gotta pen? Ok, one pastrami on rye… What? What do you mean you don’t got food?” Recording companies interested in distributing this for us should email either of the authors directly via the contacts page.)

Ed Harcourt, an up-and-coming singer/songwriter (he’s the guy in the photo for those who thought he might be a drunk-dialer we're having trouble with), has found a novel way to get a persistent drunk-dialer off his back. Rather than subscribe to a service like the one mentioned above, he’s recorded, “You Only Call Me When You’re Drunk” (listen to full song here), which should not be confused with the Pet Shop Boys prequel to this song -- before the relationship completely deteriorated -- “You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You’re Drunk,” (or their ode to that uncle who's a little too hands-on for comfort during the holidays, “Your Funny Uncle”).

Harcourt’s been getting some calls from a “deplorable old friend, somewhere in the East end,” and the song is his gentle request for his buddy to screw off and let him get a good night’s sleep because he has work in the morning and his buddy may or may not live in the park. One wonders if Harcourt hasn’t placed a few of these wee-small-hours-of-the-morning calls himself; he writes like someone who knows the challenges: "I guess you have me on speed-dial/for your eyesight is too blurred, to text me any words.”

The song starts off slow and in the kind of mood you'd be in if you picked up the phone while still half-asleep and confused as to who the hell could be calling at such a godforsaken hour, then it picks up in pitch and ferocity and takes on a more operatic quality. This is one call too many and it's time he sobers his buddy up with some home truths. They used to be close friends, cursing the local rich boys and committing acts of costly, albeit righteous, vandalism -- "As dreamers we'd scream all the songs/we'd known all our lives off the roofs of the city bankers/ break in the windows, burn all the documents/Rich daddy's boys!" -- now though his buddy has become an energy drain, a nuisance who is more trouble than the nostalgia is worth. Like many drunk-dialers he's gripped by the wanderlust and when the bars are closed, he picks up the phone to continue the adventure, "You only call me when you're drunk/Cursing down the phone, you can't stand being alone."

But for the guy who has yet to sever all connections to civilized society, it's time to hang up. He tells him, "Give all your sadness a last embrace/Turn up sober at my place, we'll talk about it face to face." And that's one call the drunken friend is unlikely to make.

Loud Music in Bars Linked to Increased Drinking: Health Files from the Drawer Marked 'Obvious'

The presence of a bunch of clipboard wielding scientists blocking access to the bar, is apparently not enough to dissuade people from drinking, according to a new study in which it was determined after much scrutiny of the data (and noting that the sky above is a shade of blue) that people tend to drink more where the music is louder.

Over the course of three weekends French researchers were able to marry work and pleasure by frittering away grant money on what is patently obvious to anyone who's ever sidled up to a bar and thought to themselves, 'you know what? this place would be a hell of a lot more fun if there was a live band, or at the very least, a stereo'.

According to researchers at the University of Southern Brittany, 'environmental music played in a bar is associated with an increase in drinking', and while we're not sure what this means exactly, it might refer to Al Gore sitting in with the house band playing a carbon negative stand up bass.

Now, we've done comparable research ourselves, but had to fund it out of pocket and call it a tab when we came up with our Top 10 Bar Songs of All Time, a list which we highly recommend. And if you're ever in a bar where a bunch of eggheads are trying to spoil your good time, buy 'em a round and crank these to oblivion.

Shark-Bite DVD Review: Iron Man -- Dean Martin meets the Transformers

The appeal of comic books is, of course, in the escape they offer their readers. You might be some nerd who spends the first period of every high school day shouting for your freedom from the locker that bullies stuffed you in, but hey, Peter Parker was a dweeb too before a spider bit him and the resulting mutant powers from that incident gave him the ability to climb walls and swing pretty girls from building to building. You may be some brooding, miserable slob who’s lived in your mother’s basement for longer than society would deem seemly, but Bruce Wayne spends a lot of time in his basement and could also stand some cheering up, and look at all the cool stuff he does as Batman. Many comics offer their reader heroes that are troubled in some way that a teen can relate to -- the socially useless who become unbelievably heroic via their alter egos.

“Iron Man” is a different kind of comic book hero, and is played by Robert Downey Jr. a different kind of actor from the type we’d expect to see fronting a blockbuster. We know from the moment the film opens with Downey, as Tony Stark, motoring down an Afghan highway in a Humvee, with a highball in his hand and the AC/DC blasting that we’re in for a movie that is miles apart from a tale of a nerd getting revenge on that muscle freak who kicked his sand in his face on the beach. We’re in for a rock and roll good time, and that is certainly what the film delivers.

For those unfamiliar with the “Iron Man” story, the central character is Tony Stark, a weapons manufacturer and one hell of a fun guy. He is labeled a “Merchant of Death”, but he seems to be far more of a charmer than Viktor Bout, ending up, as he does, in bed with the female reporter who gives him the moniker shortly after she does so.

He’s more or less casual about his war profiteering, is a genius and seems to enjoy the tech side of blowing stuff up, and, perhaps most importantly, being rich enough to have his own private plane complete with stewardesses who know where the sake is kept and double as pole-dancers once it’s been served.

Stark takes that plane to Afghanistan where he shows American generals Stark Industries’ latest piece of scorched-earth war machinery the “Jericho” missile. Shortly after firing one off into the – hopefully unoccupied – mountains, Stark is on his way back to the army base when his convoy is ambushed and he is shot. He survives, but the tribe that captured him wants him to construct a “Jericho” for their nefarious purposes.

Stark has different plans, and he and his cellmate Yinsen put together the first crude Iron Man suit. Sleeker and benefiting from better paint jobs though the latter suits might be, the spectacle of the first is hard to top: Iron Man makes his screen debut all clanking metal amid heavy guitars and proceeds to flambé every bad guy in the camp.

Once out of Afghanistan, Stark has a change of heart about the evil weapons business. He wants to make love err… Well he does not want to make war. This launches Jeff Bridges, who plays Tony’s right-hand man at Stark Industries the wonderfully named Obadiah Stane, in from the background.

Given the press surrounding this film, it will probably not be revealing too much to say that Bridges plays the heavy in this one, and he plays it well, a swaggering, cigar-chomping industrialist who’d strap his own grandma to a warhead if it meant some more filthy lucre for the pile.

The villains in this type of movie, most of the time, end up being far more interesting than the heroes they torment; who would you rather hang around with for an evening’s drinks (provided your death was not on the menu) – lunatic billionaire Lex Luthor or Clark Kent? What makes “Iron Man” so much fun is that both hero and villain are equally entertaining and played by great actors who are willing to jump into their scenes with enthusiasm, as if they want to do more than just offset the scenes where things get smashed. Likewise, Gwyneth Paltrow, playing a character whose name is the only clear sign of the comic book’s 60s origins, “Pepper Potts”, brings a human touch to a role that could have been pure camp.

We’re in for a long summer of superheroes, and for some inexplicable reason it’s been decided that another “Incredible Hulk” movie is necessary (One more time that we’ll get to here those immortal words, “HULK!?! HULK, HIM SMASH! Editor's Note: For an excellent review of The Incredible Hulk, click here) and there’s the better film prospect of another in Christopher Nolan’s Batman series. But I doubt we’re in for another like this one. There are genre standards in this one – the trial and error scenes, for example, in which new powers get tested, causing significant structural damage to buildings, and, it would appear in this case, killing without remark passersby via traffic incidents – but what we’re left with is unique among the genre: a film for the guys in high school who missed first period not because of bullies, but because they were too hungover from partying the night before.

Noel. Bangkok

Click here for more superhero fun.

Beer Couture: Top 10 Suds Fashion Duds

For those whose "Sunday Best" refers to what's worn at the Piggly Wiggly cashing in those cheesy nacho Hamburger Helper coupons, here are a few beer-themed sartorial suggestions you can run by the missus as she lights a Vantage Ultra Light off the propane barbecue and kicks back in a hammock.

Now, we've chronicled all manner of drunken exploit in our book, The Man Who Scared a Shark to Death and Other True Tales of Drunken Debauchery, from leaping into a stark and stingray-filled aquarium drunk on a bet (the title story) to trying to beat a DUI rap by handing the cops ID belonging to a guy with a glass eye and hoping they wouldn't notice. Our guess is, the type of person who'd get up to such hijinks would undoubtedly have a drawer filled with garments like the ones we're showcasing here that the wife would most certainly try and shrink in the wash or sneak off to a church clothing drive when her man is out of town.

For a night on the town blinding a biker with your pool cue's butt end, beating the snot out of a motel ice machine, and kicking up dust at the state police, nothing says 'I'm not to be messed with' like a good ol' 1) Classic Beer T or Tank Top. If you're the adventurous type, it comes complete with double entendre seen here.

How do you establish territorial boundaries and also alert people to the fact that your name is Dick, and you drink beer? The answer is to the left, though technically the T would make more sense if it were on the actual beer, like a beer cosy perhaps. If you receive this as a gift and your name is not Dick, it's probably best that you reconsider the nature of your association with the person doing the giving. To the right, we have the kind of T-shirt that is a must for anyone who has ever worked out for longer than one week. What use is having the big guns unless you wear one of these to show them off? There is no point in lifting weights, or even in breaking a sweat, unless you have the kind of clothing that can reveal your efforts to the outside world.
[Fashion Suggestion: Best paired with an undergarment of some kind, though for the girl who is looking for instant popularity this is completely optional.]

2. The Coors Draw String Pant. Elegant, stylish, these are words that are never mentioned in conjunction with this item. A comfy expandable elastic waistband, means you're limited only by how many Hardee's Thickburgers can be forced down your gullet and by how many negative triglycerides readings come back from the lab that you choose to ignore before that tingling sensation in your arm gets too worrisome. [Fashion Suggestion: Pair with a sleeveless Stone Cold Steve Austin 3:16 T, Crocs, a frog doing something sexually suggestive tank top or bare-chested if you have errands to run and drive a jeep]




3. Budweiser Tie. For more official gatherings, like say the christening of the neighbor's riding mower, the burying of a beloved family pet or a sentencing hearing, you can get the gavel banger to at least chuckle at your official Budweiser Tie before sending you straight up the river without a raft. Whether such bold haberdashery really constitutes throwing yourself on the mercy of the court (or just a cheap ploy to beat that Oxycontin possession/indecent exposure rap) is up to legal interpretation.








4. King of Beers One-piece/Corona Bikini Top. For a more tasteful statement, such as a backyard grill-off where the neighbor's leering nephews are present, here's a two-piece, left. For wrestling in wet lettuce/impromptu Playboy Mansion badminton, to the right is a sassier version once those same kids turn 17. [Corrupting a minor charges vary according to state]




5. The 'Got Beer?' Combination Belt/Bottle Opener.
Who says style can't be functional? Give your back molars a rest as this versatile product will pop open bottles, hold up your pants, and if a rumble breaks out, you're an arm and a 38 waist's length away from being able to reach out and flog someone.





6. The Beer Belly Pouch Best accessorized with a Corona Draw String Pant if you're asymptomatic after that gastric bypass. With specs including an 80 ounce capacity and able to accommodate up to a 40-inch waistline, this product will fit at least one third of the target demographic. For a similar product we've reviewed here, click [Fashion Suggestion: For special occasions like staff meetings, sales presentations, wear a collared buttoned shirt over top, feed the drinking tube through the sleeve and surreptitiously sip from the wrist. This only applies if you're not the one conducting either meeting, unless you want to call a five minute recess to take a few swigs in the office's handicapped bathroom]


7. Miller Lite Thong Floss that 'junk in your trunk' and show your significant other that your tastes in the boudoir correspond to the case of junk you just stashed in the trunk.







8. Budweiser Beer Hat. Protect yourself from UV radiation, skin damage, good taste and the company of womenfolk with this bona fide Budweiser Beer Hat. Also, prevent sustaining any further head injury of the type that would result in the decision to sport this anywhere beyond the backyard (where it should only be donned if there is a sufficiently tall hedge) or the local laughing academy, where unfortunately, all such beverages would immediately be confiscated.




9. St Paddy's Socks Celebrate St Patrick's Day all year round with St Paddy's Day Commemorative Socks. I don't know about you, but we feel green just looking at them.










10. Pints of Beer Cuff Links. For your first time wearing cuff links, take your cue from the tone of the event you're to attend and what others will be wearing. If those people are completely and wholly unreliable, create a stir with your very own Pints of Beer Cuff Links [Fashion Suggestion: Wow the VIP section of your local Tough Man Contest with these beauties]

Sleeping it off in Seattle: Drunk Attacks Cafe Manager with Fireworks and Headbutt

Having not ever set foot in the place, we've familiarized ourselves with Seattle through Conan O'Brien, who had two guys in tower costumes, one representing the Space Needle and the other the larger CN Tower (both since dwarfed by a monolith in Dubai, leaving our fair cities feeling hopelessly inadequate) duke it out.

We've also learned quite a bit from the sitcom Frasier and though it was filmed in its entirety at a Paramount Studios sound stage, we feel that it's given us a pretty good idea as to what the city is all about. Besides, there was one episode, season 5 we believe, that was filmed there and though we didn't see it, it was probably a solid one.

[Editor's aside: It's a little known fact that Shelly Long did not care much for the Frasier character, and initially wanted him ousted from the show---Cheers that is, she wasn't holding a long-term grudge against him on his own show as her career took a nosedive from Space Needle-like heights]

Seattle, to the best of our knowledge is a lovely place. So lovely, in fact, that we've even agreed to promote our book The Man Who Scared a Shark to Death and Other True Tales of Drunken Debauchery on one of their radio stations, marking our very first public appearance in the US of A!

[Editor's second aside: Special thanks to the posterior-kicking KISW, 99.9 FM, the very same station that, according to some random drunk warbling Livin' on Tulsa Time in a local karaoke bar, helped launch Nirvana and since we have no way whatsoever to confirm whether this is true, have to take him at his word]

Seattle, fortuitously, has come across our radar this week, as one of our parade of ornery, staggering pisstanks calls the Emerald City home.

According to the Seattle PI, which sounds like a failed Magnum PI spin-off without the glamorous Italian automobiles, reports that a man was refused entry to Cafe Amore recently. Not getting any 'love' at this cafe 'when the world seemed to shine like he'd had too much wine' the guy made several failed attempts to sneak by.

When these attempts failed miserably, the guy returned with a Roman candle [Editor's third and final aside: Did you hear about the happy Roman? He was glad he ate her] and struggled with the manager, who tried to wrest the firework from his hand, during which point the drunk head-butted him.

Next time make a reservation, and if the calamari are rubbery, THEN resort to head-butting.

See you soon Pacific Northwest!!!

Tune into KISW Thursday, July 17th at 4:30 PT, 7:30 EST. [Those left coasters are so laid back, they're 3 hours behind us]