Thursday, June 21, 2007


its been a meh week. Nick's been on holidays recuperating from his Paris Hilton incident (see previous post) and Lize and I are filling his shifts while both suffering from vague maladies and general malaise. I'm sick of the sight of the bar to be honest and when I copped a dose of the squits tonight went home when I probably should have stayed. Of course the phone's run hot since - the ladies shitters backed up, 13 uninvited VIPs from JB HiFi turned up (Rachel from Universal said it was fine, honest) and the bands ran 1/2 an hour late. Still I think Lize has made it thru ok and and the numbers so far seem good. Lize tells me Nick's back on the sauce God love him so I guess he's feeling less guilty than last week.

I've worked in bars since 1996 now and Í'm going thru one of those phases when I question why we bother. It sure as fuck isn't for the money - we're way poorer than we were before we opened this one. You're taxed to bejusus, pay every possible levy, permit, insurance, licence fee and every other government sponsored shakedown and every quarter the price of wholesale alcohol increases. Meanwhile discount liquor chains punt out take away booze at loss leader prices that make drinking in pubs plain uneconomic for the kids (or anyone else for that matter). The price I pay at the brewery for a case of VB is $2.50 dearer than the public pay at Dan Murphy's. It makes it tough I tells ya. And before anyone beseiges me with greedy publican stories I know most of them - I run a band venue and drive a ten year old Barina that is battered to buggery so I feel exempt.

The catch is that I'm probably not qualified for anything else so I'm stuck here I suppose. And I know the day I do quit the moaning will start - why don't bands come to our town/we've got nowhere safe to drink/k****** was awesome why did it shut yada yada......

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

the kids aren't alright

No they most certainly fucking are not. Nick, my trusty barkeep and all round lovely kid made a massive mistake on Monday night. After drinking long and deeply at another bar's staff party Nick jumped into a car (his parents) drove it and crashed it. He got banged up a bit but thank God did not injure/maim/kill anyone else or himself. However the cops picked him up and his poor folks car is a write off. I want to hug him and punch him by turns. The poor silly prick.

Then there's my little brother. Acute pancreatitis had him hospitalised for a week until today and Lize tells me the stupid bastard was swanning around the pub without a care in the world tonight.

I just want to scream.

Friday, June 8, 2007

coopers vintage

had a crack at the coopers 2004 vintage ale last night. I was joined by old mate Rudds and for the first time in a while settled down to a pleasant evening of watching the footy (Essendon over West Coast by a point) and a bit of a yarn. No womenfolk were present and talk hearkened back to the halcyon days of the mid-nineties when our lives centred around gigs/drinking/kfc/couch and work was pouring beers hungover for ten bucks an hour. Happy days.

We had a bit of a listen to the Cult and in the cold hard light of day I stand by my assertion that Rick Rubin's production on Wildflower is a benchmark for awesome rockingness. My efforts to 'conduct' the guitar solo as if it were a piece of classical music are best glossed over though. Rudds gave some Junior Kimbrough a spin and damn that guy cooks a real darkness in his tunes. Awesome stuff.

Anyway back to the Coopers ale. I'm no beer snob (I find a lot of microbrews over rated) and I really only drink Coopers in Adelaide (pale on tap). That said I reckon this vintage ale is one of the nicest things I've ever tasted. It was 7.5% alcohol and drank like you were chewing a snickers. It was pretty dark and unlike most beers I felt no compulsion to switch to whiskey after 2 or 3. It also left me pretty dry this morning but no headache so a double thumbs up to this brew.