I get some of coolest posts due to a few twitchy twitterers, and this one came from Cosmo Baker the DJ, another Philly boy who kills it.
Cos went to school with my little sister, and I re - met him through King Britt back in the middle 90's when I was part the IT crowd tearing up Philly. Hitting bars like Asylum, the Palmer, XERO's, the 2-4, Woody's, Old City (Back in the pre NE Philly / Jersey invasion of today. Sorry, despite being old now, I do have a reputation to uphold. I wouldn't be caught dead down there at night now. What would people think!?)
I mean, really. I am an arbiter of good taste and decorum. I once went to a bartenders ball with the lovely Annette Burgess where we convinced the bartender that Tanquery and Crown Royal were indeed part of the open bar, got severely intoxicated and hit the dance floor. Up on the stage dancing away was the roller skating black dude from the old Black Banana. Eventually someone grabbed me and dragged me up on stage as well. Well, I sweat like a whore on dollar day, so off came my red silk paisley smoking / tuxedo jacket. Then the shirt came off. Then the pants, leaving me in a pair of too tight black boxer briefs and a wife beater. I proceeded to dance in my own gin fueled haze half naked for three hours, with periodic breaks to motorboat Annette's SPECTACULAR double D's just for fun, and refuel on booze before the open bar ended.
Well once my sweaty ass started to crash (meaning I had more booze in me than coordination). I grabbed my clothes, toweled off in the men's room and went in search of Annette. Somewhere in that blazing cloud of alcoholism, while carrying my pants, shirt and jacket, (yes I am still in my undies, and why not, I was 25, and HOT) but I digress, anyway, while floating on that cloud of gin, and looking for Boobylicious, I dropped my pants and shirt. Yeah, GONE. Squished into the miasma of sweat, booze, cigarette butts, and spilled fluids on the floor.
Realising that I can't find anyone I had come with, I follow two drag queens out the door to the courtyard / party spot set up in the parking lot. Or so I thought. The damn bitches were leaving. So here I am, in a parking lot on Delaware Avenue in April, wearing black boxer briefs, a wife beater, and a red silk tuxedo jacket. It's 4AM, I am shit canned, locked out of the bar, I have my drivers license and house keys in the jacket, my money is in my pants pocket, and my pants are on the floor IN the bar.
Scoping out the cabs, not a single one was a regular that would float me the fare until the next night. I opt to walk home, figuring someone I knew had to still be out, It was Thursday after all. Now at this point in my drinking career I was pretty fearless, so the idea of walking to the Art Museum from Delaware and Frankford Avenues in my underwear really wasn't that big of a deal, I was more concerned about running out of cigarettes on the walk home.
Amazingly enough there was hardly a car on the road, and a few cab blew by, but i was a solitary figure strutting (OK weaving) his way up the street. I WAS a big hit with all the hookers where 12th, Ridge Ave, and Spring Garden St all come together ( I miss you brown sugar bitches, and thanks for the light!), and I am sure I was a source of amusement for the cops who drove past me three times (I waved once, just to be nice) Eventually I made it home. Just another night for Jimbothered, and a head shaker for everyone else.
Aaaaahhh memories, Of the way I used to be... (LOL who the hell am I kidding) anyway what spawned this bit of reminiscing about my 20's was a Post by Cos with a link to Skinny Friedman's page on soundcloud. This Kat has some awesome remixes, and actually inspired me to completely change todays post due to the fact that I was dancing in my head.
http://soundcloud.com/skinny412/ Check him out, he has some wicked tracks.
Check out soundcloud in general, there are some really cool spaces to get lost on there, and a near continuous supply of music.
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