East coast beerluck debut a rollicking success!

Professional coverage by our very own Jocelyn Voo to follow.

Photos also to come soon.

All rejoice!

Caption contest: Goooo India!

It's Monday night. I'm not going to drink that much...

Featured contributor: Deepak G.

Yeah I think all of us said that at one point in time either last week, last year, or sometime during your drunken career. Well, it’s definitely something that the majority of us said last night. When I say "us" I mean Ash, Raj, Igor, Homes, and myself. As a group of "us", we hear a secret tip that a local watering hole by the name of "The Rock-it Room" was having this "crazy" drink special. Honestly that’s all the website said.

Anyway we decided to follow this tip and discover exactly what this "crazy" drink special actually was. It was this "crazy" drink special that made us wish we really didn't say "It's only Monday night. The second I read the billboard standing outside the bar I immediately reconsidered my decision to go out that evening and wonder how terrible it would be for me to show up to work in a stench of booze. Before a decision could be made or i could even begin to regret the decision I was thrust into this bar and I was standing before a tall jack on the rocks, a pint of craft brewed ale and a shot of Montezuma tequila. Yeah and that was the start of the night...

The night progressed with several deep and thought provoking discussions about love, life, and the pursuit of happiness. But before I could even begin to register the conversations at hand I see Jon, the irish bar tender, arrive at the table with 5 shot glasses, 5 limes, and a full bottle of Tequila.

As the night continued, some played pool (Ashwin, Homes & The Old Dude), others continued talking about random gibberish (Igor, Katie, Raj) and some played JENGA (Deepak). Jenga was played by a group of friends who came in for a few drinks. At first we checked out the crew and there were a few cute ones and a few not so cute and a few that we couldn't remember. Regardless I somehow found my way in a game of
Jenga w/ these new friends and it was amazing. Igor wanders over wondering what i'm doing and proceeds to topple the tower in one fell swoop.

It was at this point that I look up to find the rest of the crew. Raj and Homes are across the bar and I can see their lips moving but obviously can't hear what they are saying. I'm sure it was something really interesting b/c their eyes were glued to each other. They were either really involved or trying to focus on something so they
wouldn't fall over (again this is all speculation.) Ash is still playing pool w/ that pseudo creepy old Dude. I'm not sure how many he has had to drink at this point but I just had a feeling he wasn't all together at that point. About 15 or 20 minutes later I find myself downing 3 more shots of tequila and another pint of beer. I then realize it’s only about 10:30 and briefly ponder the consequences of this evening. I figured it was early and it was time for me to engage in some good conversation with
one of these lovely ladies who joined the bar earlier that evening. Igor seemed to be the only one talking to one of these ladies. For some reason I found a "vested" interest in jumping into (read: cockblocking) this conversation. Not really sure what i talked about or how I even found my way into the conversation but about 30 minutes went by before i realized Igor and the crew were nowhere to be found in the bar. I go
for the number and get a "I'll see you here next week right?" at which
point I guarantee my presence and make a B-line for the door.

I walk outside to see Ash and Raj in the middle of Clement street and Igor and Homes kicking it outside for a few. I immediately began to explain myself to Igor saying I wanted to talk to the "girl with short brown hair" meanwhile not even sure if a girl that fit that description even walked in the bar that night. Anyway the begging and
pleading for forgiveness continued for a few minutes before he finally caved (I think???).

We then started our walk home. It was during this walk that I found myself grasping Ashwin by any and all means necessary. Twas not an easy task my friends. I let him go for a minute to check my phone only to see him walk into a street pole. I grabbed him again and held him up practically the entire way home. I couldn't really tell you what everyone else was doing at this point in time b/c I needed to maintain all focus on Ashwin and his body b/c if i didn't he would end up on the ground and I would lose interest without giving it a second thought. Anyway the conversation was very one sided and consisted of "Deepak. I love you man.....like I love you man.....no matter where i'm at.....i love you man......i mean seriously......like i'm serious man...."

About 30 minutes later we made the walk that should have taken no more then 15 minutes for a new born baby. Within a few feet of my house a mystery voice (raj) tells Homes to start beating the shit out of the garbage cans. I immediately come to my senses and get the situation under control. Unfortunately as a result I dropped Ashwin. After getting Homes back under control Ashwin somehow or another ended up
30 feet back talking to Igor and Raj. Holmes started to wander around aimlessly and needless to say I lost all interest and made a B-line for my front door.

About 15 minutes later I hear a bang on the door. Ashwin is already on his knees and crawling up the stairs. His body falls into the hallway and behind him comes the rest of the crew. Nobody really has any idea what’s going on. I found two options here. I could either A) try and get everyone to a reasonable resting place and get them all some water. or B) step over the body, ignore the drunkards, get some water, and go to bed. Again, all interest was lost instantly and I was in bed within a matter of minutes.

The rest of the night was difficult to explain. I felt sober and was ready to sleep. Although I couldn't quite fall asleep b/c I would close my eyes only to hear the lovely sound of two young gentlemen releasing all of the vile and evil liquids that found their way into their stomachs that evening.

It was a good night. We'll be back again next Monday. But I swear, it'll be a Monday night. I'm not going to drink that much.

Monday night mayhem

Have a story about weeknight mayhem? Become a featured contributor!

Ashwin, Rajen, Homes, Deepak and Igor star in this episode, entitled, "Rocked by the Rockit Room."

The evening started off like any Monday evening might and like many have in Mondays past. Dinner, a beer, an episode of Seinfeld where Jerry gets angry at Banya for being annoying. But the true protagonists in this story are not the five aformentioned drunken soldiers. The true protagonist is an innocent lady named Katie.

Katie invited me to Rockit Room for some harmless Monday night jubilation, having procured a flyer that advertised a free shot with every beer. So I went. And a few friends came. Four friends.

The thing is, we weren't going to drink much. We had a beer, had a shot, and put ourselves into a booth. But our bartender John, an upbeat English fellow recently over from London, promptly came over to our zone of lounging, placed five shot glasses assertively on the table, poured a generous round of tequila shots, donated a few limes and fucked off. We shrugged and, well, down the hatch.

This kept happening. All night.

This did not bode well for the morning.

This was inevitable and a result of our propensity to get ourselves into trouble.

Pool was played with old men named I-forget-what. Questionable-looking girls were hit on and their drunken suitor-hopefuls were embarrassingly unabashed. Drinking jenga was played, and NOT well. One of us may or may not have toppled the jenga tower on the 3rd turn of the game, a tell-tale sign of moderate blood alcohol content. People were met, spoken to, names were scarcely remembered.

Some of us returned more coherent than others -- I like to consider myself one of the proud few, though all is relative -- but the walk home did not end without streetside urination, wrestling and falling, not necessarily in that order. An unnamed clansman ended up lying in a gutter for what seemed like a short period of time.

Katie wisely removed herself from harm's way by leaving in the early hours of this saga. Like a Houdini among sherpas, she abandoned us on the most perilous peaks of Mt. Kilamandrunko.

Thank you Miss Katie for writing, directing and producing a night of debauchery. We just wish you'd have joined the cast.

Back to caressing my water and watching the clock.



Update: I am pleased to announce that our very close friend vomit also made an appearance last night. Luckily, she also made a disappearance. A pair of unnamed cast members -- or rather, they have names, but I shan't name them here -- decorated my bathroom floor with a chunky rendition of the famous big white phone call. And speaking of phones: one unlucky cast member did manage to come home cellphoneless.

Upper West Side Story

Featured contributor: Hayes S.

Kermita Kermita. She reminds me of an Upper Westside story.

She was the third pup of her liter, a runt whom no one expected to survive. It was her mother’s second litter, having eked out a living in the trash alleys of 103rd St. Soon after her birth her mother passed away during the winter of 2007, leaving poor Kermita to live a life as an orphan. One day during a foraging street in the subway, she met a rat named Rico, who took pity on her and took her in.

Rico lived fast and dangerous, the leader of his gang, “the 95th St Rodents”, who controlled a majority of the dropped crumbs and sour milk market. During a turf war with the East-side Stooges, Rico was killed during a fly-by dropping. An internal power struggle resulted, in which jealous rivals turned Kermita out to the streets, where she was forced to become a rodent of the night just to make ends meet.

During one of her nocturnal encounters, she met young Kermit (purely coincidental), a brown-furred, street-wise vagabond, who took pity on poor Kermitta and took her, literally and figuratively, into his nest, in a wall cavity of a Morningside flat. He showed her that subtlety, stealth and smarts would always win out over bravado and strength.

Kermit ran a rice racket, and drove a rice rocket, and through his secret network of tunnels was able to store enough food to survive the harsh winters. Kermita was content for awhile. Kermit showed her a life she never could have dreamed of, where stale cheese, crumbled wheat thins and spinach roots were abundant as well as the freedom to flaunt her excrement all over the cookware of her host benefactors.

One night, Kermit didn’t come home. She searched everywhere, waited and waited, and one day found one of his whiskers trapped between the floorboards of his favorite haunt. He was never coming home. It was then when Kermita decided to venture out on her own, to the house that Kermit had always warned her against… the lair of the evil Turk.

The legend of the Turk was a familiar one: he was over 5’ tall, so ugly as to freeze a mouse into stone, with fire belching out both ends like the hound of Hades. He guarded a treasure that gave its bearer the power of life and death itself! Having lost everything, she decided to risk her life to bring back the ones she loved.

The lair was empty when she entered, though the Turk’s stench was so pungent it made her eyes water. Looking around, she discovered it deserted, but then was attracted by a solitary saltine sitting in the crevice by the food box. Another step in and it was too late. The evil Turk had anticipated her visit and she now found herself paws deep in a gooey adhesive.

The Turk emerged from the shadows to find poor vulnerable Kermita struggling to free herself from her prison- he planned to force her to drink the nectar of the snake with which his breathe already reeked, and then ravage her (she was less worried about this one; as legend had it, his genitalia was undersized even for mouse standards). Another figure emerged behind him, and it occurred to Kermita that the Turk was simply a slave to this higher being. The being was reasonable and wise, and simply wanted his cookware not to be defecated upon. With a blur of light and a snap of his fingers, Kermita found herself reunited with all her loved ones- her mother, Rico, and most of all, the love of her life, Kermit.

Vitamin Beer

From ABS-CBN News...

This could be the start of something big...and healthy.

A Filipino-made beer with Vitamin B took center stage during the gathering of members of the International Federation of Inventors' Association in Bangkok, Thailand, recently.

Some of the inventions showcased by inventors from all over the world included chopsticks that double as a toothbrush and a hi-tech sandwich filling spreader.

The crowd, however, made a bee-line to the beer concocted by Filipino inventor Billy Malang.

Unlike ordinary beer, Malang's beer has Vitamin B.

"All clear beers have no vitamins. It just contains alcohol, which is converted to sugar which gives you a big tummy, called the beer belly. So I brought back the Vitamin B to make beer a healthier habit," said Malang.

Next beerluck, first one to stroll in with vitamin beer is the rotten egg.

What Beerluck means to me: a retrospective

Featured contributor: Hayes S.

Let us first consider the origins of the Beerluck tradition from the etymology of the term, coined by the Gupta tribe of the Atlantic northeast. The term is popularly known as an adaptation of the standard term “potluck”, a culinary event in which food preparation was shared among participating members. The term Beerluck holds similar associations (a feast of libations, in which refreshment is gathered by participant revelers), but its deeper connotations are worth investigating.

The first half of the term comes from the original English word “Beer”, defined as “an alchoholic drink made from yeast-fermented malt flavored with hops” by Webster’s Dictionary. We shall take this definition at face value for now, though I shall argue that my urine-fermented horse sweat flavored with butterscotch needs to enter the lexicon, but I digress.

The second half “luck” is more interesting. It is defined as “something as regarded as bringing about or portending good or bad things.” Despite the idiomatic associations with its predecessor, I will argue that the act of Beerluck tradition incorporates the conjunctive meaning of its name- in other words, the ability of the event to combine the popular beverage with either ominous or auspicious events.

Let us take Beerluck II (January 20, 2007) as a detailed case study. This is the first time we see the ability of the institution to bring four remote visitors to San Francisco, Jen Nyein, Jon, and Ari (not depicted for reasons of lavatory sodomy – see Igor*), whom I’ll refer to as Jenyeinyonari. The joyous reunion was not without consequence.



Beer, as we all know, undergoes a transformative process, its ultimate form shown below. However, aside from its physical properties, the mental effects cannot be discounted, causing its recipient to flaunt his dispensary tool to a passerby. This is yet another way that the beverage, through indirect means, transcribes itself upon the “other”. It also portends more ominous events.



Beer allows for the perceptual transformation of one’s abilities, and the neglect of one’s shortcomings. Take for example, the game of backyard soccer, played with disregard to safety, or the puddle of transformed beer shown above. Here is the result:



Next, I will show an image series illustrating the cause and effect of the Beerluck phenomenon in which the dialectic between the auspicious and the ominous is played out constantly. The transition between the idyllic and the sublime is near imperceptible.



Only as this Beerluck phenomenon evolves will we begin to answer the poignant questions of its time - what will it become, what will it entail, where will it move, and what forms of punishment will result?

I will conclude with a parting thought – if a man rolls a die ten times and “6” comes up thrice, is he a matador?