« March 2007 | Main | June 2007 »

The most amazing bar in town

It never ceases to amaze me the totally ridiculous crap I find when screwing around on the Internet. Yesterday, as I was looking for photos of Portsmouth on Google for another entry and I came across this one:

I know! Check out the girl on the far left. She's my favorite.

So of course I clicked on it and was taken to the miraculously trashy Brewery Lane Tavern Web site. I could spend hours here, truly. Judging from the site, this is where the funnest girls in town hang out. They're hot, they wear skimpy clothes, they all seem to be Red Sox fans and they looooooooove to drink.

Now I've heard my guy friends talk about the "Booby Lane Tavern" a few times, but I didn't realize how incredibly over the top this place is. The only time I've ever been there was when the Herald sent me to interview dudes about the big sports game. Here's how that usually went:

BL (to table of 30-something guys in sports gear and white hats): Umm, hey guys, can I talk to you about the game?

Any guy: Hey, what's your name? Do you want a drink? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you think my friend here is cute? He's single. What did you say your name was again? Are you going to quote me on this?

With this experience under my belt, I thought the BLT was a place where tons of dudes go to check out the hot waitresses and bartenders, you know, like the Sports Page. But lordy was I wrong. I mean, look at these girls! They are freakin' hot! Plus there's all this other fun stuff going on, like karaoke and dance parties and a bikini contest?! (By the way, what girl is brave enough to strut around a bar wearing what is essentially nothing more than your bra and panties in front of tons of dudes? I would die of an anxiety attack from worrying about whether or not I had razor burn alone.) The more and more I began to look at what the B LT had to offer, the more I was like, "Why the hell haven't I been hanging out here all my life?"

So please, I invite you to take a spin on the BLT's Myspace page, go on the Virtual Tour, print out your own events calendar and then, take a look at the Holy Grail of Web Pages, the customer photos. Here are a few of my favorites:

Bet the wife-to-be loves that this photo is up on the Internet.

Clean' up for the health inspector!

Cash Rules Everything Around Me (hey, is that Jason Varitek in the background?)

Posted by blamontagne at 03:26 PM | Comments (1)

Feels like the first time

All the pics on sheila's Myspace page make no sense. That's why picked this one.

Tonight, one of my BFFs, Sheila G. was in town and I hung out with her for the past six hours. Here's a run down:

4 PM
BL: hey, what's up? Are we going out tonight or what?

SG: Yeah, we're meeting at the Old Ferry Landing at 5:30.

BL: Sweet. See you there.

At Old Ferry Landing @ 6 PM:

SG: Blah, Blah, Blah, old times, want another Jimmy Juice?

BL: Sure. Blah. Blah Blah. Old times. Want another Jimmy Juice?

SG: Sure.

SG/BL: Blah Blah Blah, let's go drink another Jimmy Juice. Hey we should see Aaron at the Stockpot.

7 PM, a few Sangria later:

SG: You know, I find that Gemini guys are totally impossible.

BL: I know. It kills me because I'm a sagitarius! My mom and sister are Geminis, but when it comes to Gemini guys, and I totally find them irresistible, yet intolerable. I hate it. But you know what's worse?

SG: What?

BL: Virgos

SG: I KNOW!!!!!!

At Jumpin' Jay's around 7 PM

SG: I love dirty Stoli martinis.

BL: Me TOO! That's my favorite drink. No one likes Stoli!

SG: I do.

BL: That's why we're friends.

Later, at the Coat around 8 PM

SG: So, you know, I find that I meet these guys and I'm totally in tune with them, but they all have girl friends. How unfair is that?

BL: Totally bogus. Why can’t people be more open, you know?

SG: Midwestern guys suck. Have you ever met that guy that you meet and even though you've only known him for five minutes it's like you've known him for your entire life and then, when you get to know him you're like, who are you? I hate that.

BL: Totally.

Morning after afterthought: What are we talking about? Did this even happen? I don't know. Sorry Sheila.

Posted by blamontagne at 11:27 PM | Comments (1)

One of those nights

Hotel Alexis, at another time and place.

Sometimes I hate going to the Red Door. It seems like a good idea at the time. I go to check out a friend's band, I get there early, I treat myself to a $10 drink, I settle in on a comfy sofa and greet my friends as they roll in. Then at some point in the evening, I get up for a drink or a bathroom run, lose my seat and end up crouched in the back with half an ass cheek on an ottoman next to a group of girls spending the whole time talking about whether the guys they are sleeping with are dirt bags (hey ladies--if you met them at TJs, they're dirt bags). Despite how good my friend's band is, I always have to sit through some other act, like a waifish girl singing about being lonely and the plains of Kansas or some 9-piece folk freak disaster that everyone in the room thinks is AMAAAAAAAZING but is really nothing more than a bunch of hipsters recreating their prescription drug induced love fest they had in the woods last weekend.

Thankfully, last Monday was not one of those nights.

The line up included the two "welcome home" sets--Jerry Brookman and Hotel Alexis, as well as the bluesy Moses Atwood. The room was full, but not too crowded. I managed to keep my seat through all three sets and the sound (courtesy of Joe McDonough) was impeccable. Atwood, who I've never seen before, sang like a motherfucker, loud and ballsy and full of pain, just like a blues guy should. It's been a while since I've seen Sid play and as usual, he and the rest of Hotel Alexis rocked it. Then Jerry, who I've known and worked with since I moved to Portsmouth, came on and started singing selections from his old collection. There were a few Portsmouth ex-pats in the audience who happened to be in town and stopped by. There were also a few of the regular Monday night crew, many of whom I hadn't seen in months.

Between sets, the room flooded out onto the street where everyone was smoking butts and hugging old friends and dishing each other shit. It was like the old times, and by old times I mean a year and a half ago.

I guess here is the part of the entry where I should start the inevitable tirade about how the music scene in Portsmouth used to be so vibrant, how things have changed and there needs to be more venues and all that shit, but really, I'm tired of that old yarn. The reason why there are no good venues is because no one really goes to see bands anymore. We're all old farts who prefer to sit at the bar three nights a week smoking butts and bitching about our restaurant/cubicle jobs. There was a time when I used to nod in agreement with the handful of people who feel bringing more live acts to Portsmouth is a cause equivalent to saving the whales, but these days, I just want to tell them to grow up or move out. I know that I might get shit for this or lose what little shreds of my hipster cred I have left but truly, I'm content with what we've got.

Posted by blamontagne at 02:33 PM | Comments (0)

Smoke 'em if you got 'em

Even little Harry Potter will have to refrain.

There's a nasty rumor going around the bars of Portsmouth these days. It's starts with "smoking ban" and ends with "July 1, 2007." Now, more than a few people have asked me about this, so many in fact that I decided to do a little investigating to see how much truth there is to the matter.

According to the word on the street, smoking will be prohibited in all bars, restaurants, VFWs, etc., on July 1 this year. At first I scoffed at this rumor, but since I've started looking into it, it looks like this is partly true.

Right now, the bill known as SB 42 still needs a vote from the state House of Representatives. It passed the Senate on Feb. 22 and recently received the thumbs-up from the Commerce Committee in the House. It is due to go before the full house on May 31 and soon after will go to a vote. If passed, smoking will be prohibited in all "restaurants, cocktail lounges, and certain enclosed public places" effective July 1, 2007.

Technically, the smoking ban is not a done deal, but if you remember the last time this issue came up, it passed fairly easily, but got caught up in the Senate. Seeing as there are even more members of the House that support this bill than there were in 2005 (those damn Dems!), it looks like the current smoking ban bill will get the votes it needs. So starting this July, it looks like you actually will have to get off your ass and walk outside if you want to smoke when out having a beer.

To view the bill go here, and to find your reps and tell them what you think of the smoking ban, go here, though I doubt at this stage in the game it will make any difference.

Now I could pontificate here about how a smoking ban totally goes against everything New Hampshire stands for, but to be honest, smoking is filthy, dirty and disgusting. Will any of us really miss leaving the Coat with our clothes and hair smelling like a revolting ashtray. Sure, smoking can be enjoyable and fun, but really, those who indulge could all stand to a little less of it and we all know it.

So please, in the name of freedom, head to the nearest bar, pull out a pack of American Spirits or Parliaments of Reds or whatever the kids are smoking these days and have at while you still can. LFOD, my friends. L.F.O.D.

Posted by blamontagne at 10:59 AM | Comments (0)

Possession Obsession?

Anyone who has talked to me for more than 15 minute knows how deeply I love the 70s/80s rock duo Hall and Oats. So when I saw the story on the front page of the Portsmouth Herald on Saturday that Daryl Hall recently purchased the Bray House on Kittery Point, I was absolutely elated. According to the Associate Press, Hall likes to restore historic homes and bought the 300+ year old Bray House (considered to the oldest residential home in Maine) in hopes of preserving it. What's even more exciting (to me) is that I once did a story about the previous owners of the Bray House and got to take a quick tour inside. So technically, I can say I've been in Daryl Hall's house. Which one of you suckers can say that?!

Reasonable adults have asked me before why I like the rock/soul combo that dominated the charts in the late 70s and annoyed teens with horrible videos in the 80s. I think my appreciation for Hall and Oates didn't really materialize until college. During my long drives to Miami, "Daryl Hall and John Oats Greatest Hits Rock 'n Soul Part 1" was in heavy rotation on the battery powered boom box that subbed as my car stereo. Then there was the night I met my college boyfriend Scott and we skipped out of the party to dance for an hour in his room to H&O. Or the time my fiance and I were stuck in post Red Sox traffic and we rolled down the windows, blasted the Philly duo as loud as we could stand it and sang every word in perfect unison. And who can forget my long summers on the Stock Pot deck when all we would listen to was the 80s rock station on satellite radio and "Method of Modern Love" would play AT LEAST four times a shift. Around the breaking point of any deck shift, inevitably a waitress would turn her head to the sky and ask "What the hell are they spelling in this God awful song?" M-E-T-H-O-D-O-F-L-O-V-E, baby.

While that video is absolutely amazing, I thought I'd offer up an old classic that will certainly satisfy all your Hall and Oats needs.

Also, please check out the official Hall and Oates site. You can enter their "I CAN Go for That" video contest, which requires you to film yourself lipsynching one of their songs. Send in a tape to win a) a trip to see the duo at the Hollywood Bowl b) a MP3 player (note i-Pod name note used) with lots of Hall and Oates songs and videos on it or c) Hall and Oates swag. Check it out.

Posted by blamontagne at 09:19 PM | Comments (1)

Downtown Sound

Ahh, the sweet sounds of Portsmouth summers have returned. As I sat in the square, trying to get a little work done this afternoon, I couldn't help but notice the constant din of construction. Well, I shouldn't say couldn't help but notice. It was more like, "Holy Shit. Why is it so damn loud out here! Is that man operating a jack hammer over there?"

One of the sources of the noise seemed to be from the all the sidewalk renovations they've been doing on Congress Street. I guess our wise city councilors felt there wasn't enough brick in this city so they had to remove all the asphalt from our walkways and cover them in brick too. But they aren't quite brick yet so the lower end of Congress Street is looking more like the Alley of Broken Dreams down by the decks. It's all dirt with random pieces of cardboard thrown randomly on the ground for people to trip over. Looking good Portsmouth!

Regardless of the noise, it is nice to see Market Square alive again, The long row of motorcycles is back along with the weekend warrior bikers that like to show how bad ass they are by drinking iced lattes at Breaking New Grounds. There are the trendy girls with the thickly rolled up jeans and the big sunglasses. There's the bohemians with their potpourri of musical instruments playing goofy hippy tunes, the cops hanging on the cruiser, looking at the cute girls through their tinted glasses. The hipster kids who weave in and out of traffic on their rebuilt Japanese bikes, the endless parade of strollers, the occasional dog fight that breaks out when their owners spend too much time gabbing with each other. There's the countless packs of teenagers playing hooky and the white collar folks sneaking out of the cube for a little afternoon sun. And don't forget the college kids and homeless folks and empty nesters and now this year, the campaign staffers. And I didn't even get into the different types that hang out there at night. Anyone seen the magician yet this year?

I guess the noise is just another fixture, like the horse and buggy was for a while, or the scaffodling on the tower. As much as you hate it while its there and wish it would just go away, when it is gone, there's a little part of you that wishes it was still there.

On second thought, no. That's total bullshit. No one is going to miss this damn construction. I'm sure it'll all be over soon-- around the time the snow flies.

Posted by blamontagne at 08:29 PM | Comments (0)

The Grossest Girls I've Ever Seen

That'll never be me! That'll never be me! That'll never be, never be me, noooooo!

Some of you have probably already seen this on my Myspace page, but for those of you who haven't, I thought it was worth sharing:

The last time I went to the bathroom at the Coat of Arms, I ran into one of the skankiest looking bachelorette parties of all time. Tight clothes. Too much make-up. Ugly mugs. Then I happened to notice that they had all brought their drinks in with them. Now, there's not much in this world that I find more gross than bringing a cocktail into the jon. Unless it's a frat party and you are afraid someone is going to drop a roofie in your drink, it's ok to let one of your girlfriends keep an eye on your sex on the beach while you tinkle.

As the last of the crew finished up and came out of one of the stalls, I happened to notice that she peed all over the seat. That really killed me. You can bring a drink -- which you put your mouth on -- into the germ infested rat hole bathroom of the Coat, but you cannot foul your ass by sitting on the seat? I will never understand.

Posted by blamontagne at 04:27 PM | Comments (0)

Don't call it a comeback?

When I Googled Portsmouth looking for a photo, this came up. I have no idea what's going on here, but I felt it was appropriate.

I've spent the last two weeks wondering how I was going to do this. I wanted to come back with a bang, blow everyone away somehow so that people would be like, shit, I really missed that girl and her rambling musings about getting drunk and rotten Portsmouth yuppies and her constant mocking of our treasured local events. But then it never came. I couldn't think of anything killer to comment on. I waited the entire rainy month of April and nothing happened. It was just work, eat, drink a beer at the Coat, sleep and then do it all over again. That's Portsmouth for ya. Letting you down when you really need her to come through.

Then it was May. The sun came out and I finally remembered why I live in this town. In the last few days, I've taken a great ride on the ol' Shogun bicycle. I've had a Jimmy Juice and a can of Miller Lite at Harpoons. I've sat with the butt smokin' crowd in Market Square talking politics and I was given a replica war-era Zippo lighter like the ones given to Marines from a friend who just returned from four months in Vietnam. I can tell this is just a taste of brighter days ahead.

The last time I posted, I was working at the Herald, wondering how I was going to balance all my assignments and still put up an entry or two. Since then, I've left the company and started covering presidential politics full-time. Most of my days are spent talking to people who wear suits everyday and are upstanding citizens. I write mostly about campaign finance reports and polling numbers and inside baseball stuff that bores most of my friends to tears. When I caught myself kvetching about a beef I had with a campaign staffer when talking to a friend over beers at the Coat one night, I finally realized, damn, this guy couldn't give two shits about whether or not the press secretary called me back in a timely fashion. I really need to get a life!

Hence my return to AD.

I like thinking about something besides who is going to be the next president. I like commenting on stupid TV commercials and movies and bands. I especially love writing about what is simultaneously great and horrible about Portsmouth and all the goofy people and stuff I see along the way. Despite the fact this will never get me anywhere (compared to the possibilities my other writing projects could provide) I still find myself writing little tirades in my head every time I see a bachelorette party roll into a bar. As they say, writers have to write.

So to my three loyal fans who have stuck by me through thick and thin-- please bear with. I have no idea where I'm going with this.

Posted by blamontagne at 10:49 PM | Comments (1)