And people that do act crazy or zany when pissed are normally just nobs anyway.

So, when I first started dating Mrs. Worried Man back in 2005, she dragged me to this concert, where the following ensued.  A college chum ran into me there and by the time this band was playing he bought me enough liquor drinks to where I felt it in my best interest to dance with all the 16 year olds at the front of the stage and then sneak back stage, then on stage, where I took a cue from an old grunge music video and, well....   Another story involving me and a cardigan.  From the local music paper....



"The Futureheads, my favorite new rock band since approximately forever, played at the Loft in Midtown last Wednesday. The quartet's 20-song set was a pop-punk blast. Let me be clear: When I say pop punk, I'm not talking about crap like Green Day or Good Charlotte. The Futureheads play the good stuff. For the music geeks among you who haven't heard them, imagine Drums and Wires-era XTC covering the Jam. It was 45 thrilling minutes of stabbing guitar riffs, jagged, intricate rhythms, and great harmony singing.

But you don't read this column for in-depth music reviews, I know. You read it for amusing anecdotes. Here's one for you: I almost got into a fistfight at the show. Near the end of the band's set, a spastic idiot in a green cardigan who'd been annoying people near the front of the stage with his enthusiastic elbow dancing decided it'd be fun to stage dive. He landed on my head. I didn't see him coming because I was looking down buttoning one of my pockets. Cardigan boy knocked me on my ass. When I got up, he muttered something like, "It was all in good fun," which prompted me to grab him by the cardigan and take him to the floor. I was about to punch him in the face, but I stopped before raising my fist. With everyone staring, I felt embarrassed. Also, I haven't been in a fight since I was 12, so my "punch hapless jerk in the face" instincts were clearly atrophied.

At that point, Futureheads singer Barry Hyde yelled, "Stop." I thought he was talking to me, so I looked up. He was actually talking to the rest of the band, who, at his request, stopped playing. Hyde looked at me and asked if I was OK. "I'm fine," I said. Then he mocked cardigan boy. He called him foolish for stage-diving into the person he described as "the meanest looking guy" in the room. I've never considered myself particularly mean-looking, but I was pissed off, so I suppose I looked meaner than usual. Besides, most of the fans as close to the stage as I was were 10 years younger and 50 pounds lighter, so if you're gonna pick a guy to jump on based solely on physical appearance, I was indeed a careless pick.

Anyway, cardigan boy wandered off (not sure where) and the show continued. After they started playing again, somebody turned to me and shook my hand. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was for putting cardigan boy on the floor. Maybe it was resisting the urge to punch him. The band didn't mention the incident again until the end of the show. Before the final encore, the band's other guitarist looked at me and said, "Sorry about your head," which I appreciated.

The Futureheads. The band that rocks. The band that cares."


Yeah.  I was completely out of my gourd.  I got tossed out by security and Mrs. Worried Man then found me wandering around outside the club.  Also garnered me the nickname "Cardigan Boy" amongst my friends.  Surprised she stayed with me after that.  I guess on some level, it was an epic display.  Maybe it sealed the deal?

Last edited by Worried Man (2013-08-11 10:58:20)

I like a drink, the problem for me is that drink is free when I'm playing in clubs so there doesn't tend to be a cut off point. It always seems to be all or nothing. I think drink and drugs are pretty much the same; you think your in control when under the influence but really your not.

I much prefer to get stoned on weed to be honest, though I rarely do these days.

I hated the Futureheads. Affected poncy twats. Fair play WM. That sort of shit should happen at rock gigs. It's part and parcel of rock. I hate gig tourists.

Like Armchaired it depends on the drink for me.

Cider- can't stomach it. I lost a bet when I was 15 and had to down 3 litres of Strongbow. This was on a Sunday afternoon in a park in the middle of Summer. I broke free from my moorings and wandered off into a more populous area of the park where I wss apparently alarming families by jumping over picnic benches and I eventually puked all over an ice cream van. I get flashbacks whenever I taste or smell apple cider even today.

Bells Whisky- can't stomach it. When I was 17 I drank a half bottle straight  in a mates house. I remember nothing and my friends won't tell me exactly what happened. I said something to a girl that was so offensive that she has never spoken to me again. I can't remember what it was. A friend later told me that he thought I was turning into a werewolf.  He was on mushrooms.

Vodka- hate it. Makes me feel physically sick after a couple of drinks.

Gin- lovely lovely gin. It's my favoured spirit. Other people seem to react badly on gin but it just enhances me.

Jagerbombs- guilty pleasure.

A close friend of mine realized he needed to curtail his bingeing when he woke up in the urinal trough in one of the nastiest dives in Atlanta. He was face down in piss and mucous.

I'm partial to beer, bourbon, and gin. I like rum and coke. I can do voddies and quila just fine however. Screwdrivers really mess me up though.  I hate Mick Jäger.

CC...I haven't heard anyone order that in 20 years. I remember it being somewhat popular in the late 80s/early 90s.

http://www.quirkbooks.com/post/how-drink-your-favorite-writer-hemmingway-Bukowski