Drunken Expat Writer

Hey boys and girls - I know there are a lot of new students in town tonight. So I want to welcome all you crazy expat students to Montpellier France.

I hope that at some point between drinking, dancing and drugging you get time to study this year. (It's true, I once knew a student in this town who learned French. I felt like buying him an "I Am Legend" T-shirt.)

But, assuming you are like most of the English, American, Irish and Aussie students who turn up in Montpellier every September to hit the three Ds far away from your parents and peers back home, I figured I might as well throw you a tip - Monday night is half price all night happy hour at the Vert Anglais in Centre Ville Montpellier each and every week.

Starting at 6 p.m. you can turn up and drink beer for much less than anywhere else and keep drinking until 2 a.m. if you've got the stamina.

The bar is just behind Virgin Records and has a large green awning.

It's where almost all the English speakers in town drink and is also good if you have any questions about French culture, opening a bank account, looking for room mates or trying to get laid.

A brief note to the American student girls looking to hook up in Montpellier: EU guys have foreskin.

Every fall at least two or three girls end up in the bar complaining when they discover that EU cocks don't look like the other cocks they have encountered in their lives.

Some girls don't care either way. Some like the extra bit of skin, but there are always a few who think it looks or smells nasty.

So, my advice for you is to drink a little bit more than usual before you see the skin of your first EU hookup - so you'll have the courage to confront that extra inch in a pinch!

Also girls, during your first few weeks here your gaydar will probably be set off a lot - and then you'll be surprised when the guy hits on you anyway.

That's because straight French men look dress and act like gay American guys, so don't be fooled. Just because he has nice clean clothes, uses moisturizer, dances with other guys and prances instead of walks doesn't make him gay - it makes him Euro!

So welcome to Montpellier France new students!

We can't wait to meet you!

I believe in fairness. Therefore, since I laid on the snark with Things French People Like I figure it's only fair to turn the tables and write about Things Ex Pats Like.

I'm all for the equality of snark.

1. Spending more money on alcohol each month than you do on your rent.

2. Bitching about the native population of whatever country you are in.

3. Finding ways to put off paying your bills.

4. Going to therapy.

5. English language book shops.

6. Films in English.

7. Peanut butter.

8. Comparing the different ways people say things in the U.S., the UK, Australia and New Zealand. (I've yet to figure out what "Bob's your uncle" means.)

9. Cocaine.

10. Talking about how fucked up you were/whether or not you puked the night before.

11. Being surprised by local holidays.

12. Complaining about how the natives don't work that hard - even if it's a Tuesday and you've been drinking with your friends since 1 p.m.

13. Finding teaching jobs.

14. The French health care system.

15. Bitching about pigeons - as though they couldn't possibly be as many in New York, London or Sydney.

16. Trying to guess if the new people hanging out in the bar are American or Canadian.

17. Family visits - because you know your parents will take you out to dinner.

18. Bartenders.

19. Gossip

20. New ex pats to gossip about.

One of my friends beat his own personal record of substance abuse crazy last night.

His previous record was being so drunk that he puked on a plate of shrimp in a restaurant and kept eating the shrimp afterwards on the theory that the shells would keep out the puke cooties.

Last night, however, after booze and certain substances that tend to keep people awake, he left his saxophone in the middle of a town square, lost his keys and forgot where he lived.

He then decided to sit in his car in a car park until 11 a.m., thinking that there was no place better to go - even though he could have easily just gone to a cafe for a soda or something.

We are going to make fun of him forever for this - or at least until one of us does something equally silly.

The Vert Anglais, the best bar in Montpellier, France, is having a quiz night Wednesday.

It starts at 9 p.m. - which is also when happy hour starts!

The prize is a bottle of booze!

Tonight the Waves are back at the Vert Anglais, the best bar in Montpellier.

In sort of a special event legendary rock critic and NPR Encyclopedia of Rock Ed Ward will be at the bar tonight hoisting a few with The Regular Drunkspecs.

Happy Hour starts at 9. The band starts around 9:30 and there are always a bunch of cute babes there. American babes, British babes, French babes, New Zealand babes, Irish babes. You name it. If it's cute, has boobs and is in Montpellier it will be at the Vert Anglais tonight.

Here is just a small sampling of the beautiful babeage that will be on tap ce soir la:

Someone on Gawker the other day asked me How does one become a drunken expat writer?"

It occured to me that many of you may have the same question. So, here you go:

1. You quit your job working for Gannett when you realize that every boss at Gannett is a total tool. You kick yourself for taking 10 years to come to this realization.

2. You make sure Gannett gives you some cash when you leave so you have money for airfare, vodka and the deposit on a new apartment. Most of this money will be spent on drinks at 4 a.m. at dirty smoky clubs while you try to integrate yourself with the expat community.

3. You sign up for elance.com and start getting some freelance gigs. You quickly become shocked at how much work Indian writers will do for two bucks.

4. You learn how to say "I'm sorry, I'll have the rent next week" in French (knowing that it's illegal in France to evict you unless you are nine months behind on your rent.) This phrase, along with "Pas Possible" will become the only French you ever really need to know.

5. You practice new and creative excuses for when you are behind on your freelance gigs because drinking, fucking or doing coke seemed to make more sense than writing eBay ads on that particular day.

6. You learn to ignore the vast numbers of ways your family will ask you "When are you going to rehab?" and "When are you going to come home and get a real job?"

7. You try pastis because it's the local drink and it's dirt cheap. After about a week you realize it's so gross that only alcoholic pig farmers would ever drink it on a regular basis. This does not stop you from drinking it when you are broke.

8. You throw away your alarm clock because you will never need it again.

9. Voilla! You are now a drunken expat writer!

Wednesday night the Vert Anglais is hosting "Secret Singles Night!"

Everyone who comes in will get a number to put on their chest.

Then your secret admirers will have the chance to hand the God of Romance an anonymous note to send to you!

They can either give you their own number or else just tell you how beautiful or handsome they think you are while remaining incongnito!

Better still happy hour with three euro pints is in effect from 9 p.m. to 10 p.m. so you can build up your drunken courage!

All in all it's a night where you can drink cheap and get your sweet ass laid!

So, put down that iPod, shave your legs and trim your nose hair and get your ass down to the Vert Anglais.

The libido you save may be your own!

Tonight was a full feast of friends at the Vert Anglais, even though it was one of the rare nights when The Stingles were playing instead of The Waves.

But it was a good night because we had Hippy IT Boy, both parts of Woody Allen Reference, the Non Jewish Carpenter, Chip and Chip's Dad and various other assorted happy drunks with us.

The Stingles policy is that they mostly play songs by either Sting or the Beatles. Since I hate both Sting and the Beatles it is a huge compliment to their charm and personality that I'm happy to watch them anyway.

Plus, they did vary their repertoire a bit and played "Hotel California" and "Enter Sandman."

They also played "Faith" by George Michael. And by doing so confirmed a feeling I've had for several years.

That is, that "Faith" when played by George Michael or any other seriously professional band is awful pop shit.

But... when played by any type of bar band that isn't professional is the greatest song ever played. There is something about "Faith" that makes the song sound better the less professional you are.

Over the last 10 years or so I've heard it played by metal bands, ska bands, 80s cover bands, fuckwit asshole bands and whatever. And the rule of thumb is that the worse the band is at playing any other song, the better "Faith" sounds when they play it.

Then we got into the "Gak Discussion."

This discussion is based on twain saying a couple weeks ago that "Gak" is what people in the UK call cocaine.

Both Members of Woody Allen Film Reference (who are very, very English) told me tonight that they'd seen twain say that and they disagree. They suspect that "gak" is a regional usage and that in most of the UK there would be different terms for it ("Charlie" is the one that makes the most sense to them.) They assure me that no fellow English person they have ever met has ever used the term "Gak" to refer to cocaine.


Which leads me to the point of this post:

1. If you are English is "gak" what you would call cocaine?

2. If not, what would you call it?

3. If you are UK have you ever heard "Gak" before?

4. No matter if you are UK or USA what do you think is the best slang term for "cocaine."

5. One of my friends calls cocaine, "Blond Ambiation." Does this make him cool or a dork?

Was back at Vert Anglais tonight for the Thursday night band night of The Waves.

For the first time in three weeks both halves of Woody Allen Film Reference were there.

Along the way we got into a discussion about this guy they know.

The heart of the discussion involves two facts about him:

1. He's the most polite guy anyone has ever seen.

2. His girlfriend wants to remain a virgin until marriage, so they only have anal sex.

This led to a debate: "How the fuck do you have polite anal sex?"

Do you say "Excuse me, can I shove my cock up your shitter?"

I mean isn't the whole point of anal sex that it's somewhat rude? And wouldn't you almost need to spank her ass and say rude things to her while you were doing it? Otherwise, what's the point?

Think about it.

You have to get out a bottle of lube. Then you have to finger the ass with the lube. Then you have to lube up your cock. Then you have to ease it in and hope you don't hit a "turtle" (the porn slang term for a turd that would block full entry.)

Finally you are balls deep in her ass, but she's convinced you are not "fucking" because your dick isn't in her vajayjay. But you are probably playing with her clit, assuming you are a guy who like gives a shit about her cumming before you splooge.

And then you cum inside her and she has an orgasm but you are both convinced she is still a virgin.

What a lot of fucking effort when there is a self lubricating hole like two inches away.

Anyway the conversation then denigrated to the point where I was telling them about the Tony Blair press secretary who I once did a dirty weekend with who then sent me a pair of her panties from 10 Downing Street with a compliments slip from Tony Blair. (If you are American just google "compliments slip")

Then they were telling me how hard it is in France to find a boy who just wants to fuck and will then go the fuck away, because every French boy assumes you are like mated for life the second you touch his dick.

There's more, but all in all it was a night of all of us getting nicely drunk, listening to a good band, being in a great bar, and just venting about our sexual histories.

And, that's fun.

Particularly with two cute blond babes.

No question about it - last night was the best birthday ever.

I got pleasantly drunk, but not so much that I did anything embarrassing or that I regret. Spent most of the night hanging out with The Texas Gay, Miss Darling, both halves of Woody Allen Film Reference, The Dirty Baker, Belgium Boy, The Iceman, Texas Gay's Husband and The Iceman's Son.

The bar comped my tab at the end of the night - which is astonishing given how much I drank.

Rome Girl sang with The Waves - who were in great form. For the first time ever she sang "Thunder Road" which got a standing ovation - even though almost no one in the crowd had heard it before. She also got total thumbs up for "Nothing Else Matters."

The band themselves did a kicking version of "Enter Sandman" that they dedicated to me.

Rome Girl says she wants me to stress that she is laughing and not in pain during the singing photo.

The Gay Guide To Montpellier

This Thursday I'm celebrating my birthday at The Vert Anglais, starting around 8 p.m. or so.

The Waves are playing - and Rome Girl will be singing at least one if not more songs with them!

Happy Hour begins at 9 - so if you show up then you can buy me drinks without busting your budget. How much fun does that sound??

There are always a lot of cute girls at the Vert Anglais on Thursday nights - and most of them appear to be single!

So you can get drunk with me, listen to a cool band and try to get laid - all in one convenient Centre Ville Montpellier location!

On Thursday the Waves are back at Vert Anglais and the lovely Rome Girl, otherwise known as Miss Expatria, may very well be singing with them. If that happens I promise to provide pictures.

Otherwise, the Thursday night Vert Anglais gig is always fun.

While my Bella Roma won't be around for it there is another great Vert Anglais party on Saturday in honor of Carnival.

Starting at 9 p.m. anyone who shows up in costume can buy a shot for one euro and there will be a free bottle of champagne for whomever shows up in the best costume.

So, if you live in town and have ever wanted to meet Miss Expatria show up Thursday and if you just want to party, come on down on Saturday night.

Either way it will be a gas!

"I wore a pencil skirt tonight," Ainsley Hayes girl said to me when I walked into the Vert Anglais, "because you, sir, are a man who appreciates an hourglass figure."

With that as the opening gambit, the night was destined to be classic. And it was.

It was a triple threat. The Vert Anglais was officially unleashing their cocktail menu, there was a huge birthday party going on and The Waves were trying out a completely new set list.

Among the new songs were "Sympathy For The Devil", "Rock and Roll" and "Satisfaction."

They kicked all available ass.

The funniest thing happened between the first and second sets when I went out to smoke a cigarette. There were these two guys in a football type huddle. The one guy said, loudly, "Dude are you ready?" the other guy said "Yes!" and the first guy then said "Ok! Let's go back in there and fuck some women!"

Then they high fived and went back inside and drank beers with their guy friends. This was particularly amusing because at the bar was me, Ainsely Hayes Girl, Her Sister (these two should really just be called Woody Allen Film Reference) and five cute, very drunk American girls.

The dudes never came up to talk to any of them. Perhaps they assumed it was my harem.

The other interesting event is still a mystery to me. The mens room at Vert Anglais is simply a urinal. Not one of the ones that extends to the floor, but one of the ones that is a three foot urinal on the wall about four feet above the floor. When I was waiting in line for it one of the drunk American girls asked if she could cut the line because "I really, really got to go."

I said "sure", but then afterwards realized that I have no fucking clue how she was able to use that device.

During the second set I went picture crazy.

I went over to the Vert Anglais last night to see The Waves for the first time since before Christmas.

Let me tell you, the band and the bar just keep getting better and better. I ran into Ainsley Hayes Girl and her sister, had a good conversation with the Correct Barman and jammed out to the music.

A girl I flirted with back in September when Rome Girl was off in Rome tried to pick me up last night, but I gracefully ducked the situation. It was very flattering.

The babe selection in general is pretty fine at Vert Anglais pretty much every night of the week.

The Waves did a pretty varied set, ranging from The Police to Blink 182 to some Metallica to Beatles stuff. California Barman has been doing a few songs with them lately and his voice was really on last night.

I realized last night that while I do hate The Beatles, for some reason I'm amused by the Paul solo song "Band on the Run."

Like always it was happy hour with half priced beer for most of the first set, which is always a good way to kick things off.

The Vert Anglais is also getting really into their cocktail menu these days and there was some great booze being poured over the bar.

They also have free WiFi now during the day which is a good thing if you are bumming around Montpelllier and want to check your emails.

I think I have most of the dates and times right here, but sometimes things are a little blurry so assume that I may at some point confuse a Sunday event with a Saturday one or vice versa.


Thursday: I had to take a train to Marseille at 5 a.m. Fuck me! Then I had to negotiate my way from the train station to the airport and kill about three hours worth of time. Finally, around noon my flight took off. In what was to be a sign of things to come my flight actually landed about 30 minutes early! The downside is that RyanAir charges four euros for the worst tasting Bavarian beer I have ever smelled. Through a series of buses and cabs I found my way to my hotel in the Plaza Mayor. The dudes there were way nice and my room had a great view. The only odd part of it was that on the wall they had a list of what it would cost if you broke shit. It started off normal with "Broken Glass - 1 Euro" but eventually escalated to "Mattress 300 Euro." Who breaks a mattress? And how?

After taking a shower and unpacking I made my way out and walked around the square and eventually found a nice tapas place down a small side street in Puerto del Sol. Ate tons of pork based products. On the way back to the square, I noticed an expat bar and figured I'd pop in there and ask them there where the cool places to hang out/eat were. I told the guy that I didn't want to hang in tourist bars, but I also wanted to avoid places where the only other people would be 70 year old Spanish men talking about Franco. He suggested Cava Baja, a long, rambling nearby street with about 20 or more bars where hip Spanish people go and that is pretty much off the tourist radar. That sounded fine to me. I had a couple beers and then walked back to my hotel for a much needed nap. Woke up around 8 or 9, took another shower and hit Cava Baja. Managed to hit about five bars and eat awesome epinadas in this cool lesbian joint. The place across the street from the lesbian joint was clearly the best of the bars on the street - with everyone looking young, cool and dressed in expensive black threads. Got home around 2 a.m.

Friday: I'd promised Rome Girl I'd buy myself some new clothes on this trip and figured I'd get it out of the way before I got too lazy. So I managed to find Plaza Colon where the decent stores are. After wandering a bit I made my way over to H&M and spent an hour or so trying on clothes until I found three black shirts, some black boxers and some black socks I liked. As I left the store it started to rain like a motherfucker so I ran into the nearest restaurant which happened to be the Hard Rock Cafe. Ate a pulled pork sandwhich. Noticed that they had a lot of Judy Garland memorabilia, which for some reason was right next to Megadeth mementos. I wonder why the fuck The Hard Rock bought Judy Garland stuff. When it finished raining I went back to my hotel and took a nap. A couple hours later I emerged and spent some time just walking randomly around town until I got hungry/thirsty. Made my way back to Cava Baja and explored a bunch of new bars, plus went back to the cool one with everyone dressed in black. Around midnight it was too packed for comfort so I went back to Plaza Mayor and stopped by the ex pat bar to thank them for their good directions. Started talking to people there including one guy who said he was a freelance writer. After a couple drinks we admitted we both mostly wrote porn for money. He then mentioned that he had some "bolivian pride." We went into the men's room where he then gave me some of the best cocaine I've ever had in my life. It fucking blew my head off.

Saturday: Slept on and off until about 3 p.m. or so when I dragged my lazy ass out of bed. Feeling guilty for drinking and drugging so much the night before I decided to be "good tourist" and wandered all around Puerto del Sol, window shopped, made my way all around the city center, saw the Palace, ate some Spanish food, drank lots of fruit juice and did my best to not feel that poisoned. Mastered the subway system and got my ass to Gran Via - which is essentially Madrid's Times Square. Napped a bit back at the hotel, hit a couple more Caba Baja bars but mostly had an early night. Went to sleep buzzed, but not insane.

Sunday: The Prado. The Prado is a full day. For one it took more than an hour in line just to buy a ticket. Then, the place is huge and not laid out very well, so you have to work to find stuff. Had a great time there but was exhausted by the time I was done. I'd walked a lot. Stopped back at the ex pat bar for a couple drinks and to find out if there were any important things I hadn't been to. They mentioned a few interesting side streets and I decided that would be my Monday project. After my now regular 6 p.m. nap I went back to Cava Baja, where the best thing ever happend! The cool spanish bar staff actually started talking to me. They said they were really flattered that I'd come back every night, they loved my "sense of style" but had not talked to me before because "we don't get tourists here. We didn't know what to do with you." They bought me a bunch of shots, let me take pictures with them and once I'd been accepted by them the cool customers started talking to me. So, I felt like I'd broken through to the Spanish. Clearly, I stayed until closing time.

Monday. Everything in Madrid is open on Sundays, but for some reason tons of shit is closed on Mondays. I wonder why? This limited my options on shit to do I so just kept going down random streets and looking at pretty buildings and stuff. Found the oldest bar in Madrid. It was built during the reign of Carlos III and is a historic landmark. Which means that the walls have frescos on them that are hundreds of years old, sitting right next to modern Guinness ads. Very, very strange. There were no cool Spanish bars open at all, and I hadn't spoken a word of English all day, so I went back to the ex pat bar to see if they could recommend anything cool.

Met these two Australian dudes who had just gotten out of the Army a couple months ago and were celebrating with an around the world tour. They'd had some trouble in Paris where a strip club tried to charged them 160 euros ($210) for two pints of beer. They'd literally had to fight their way out of the bar to avoid paying. There next stops had been Montpellier and Barcelona, two cities I'm fairly familiar with so we lots to talk about. They loved Montpellier. Since they are going to New York next month I recommended Karma and Coffee Shop Bar as places they'd have fun. Couldn't find any decent Spanish food (and I'd eaten a lot of tapas and epinadas by this point so I wasn't feeling Spanish deprived) so I hit the Hard Rock for a reliable bacon double cheeseburger. Eventually went to bed around midnight so I could get up at 10 a.m. Tuesday to start my journey home.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Thursday night is the annual Beaujolais Nouveau night in Montpellier.

Most of the bars and restaurants will be serving it all day and night.

Vert Anglais will have a special deal where you can get a plate of tartiflette and a glass of wine for 8 Euros.

The Vert Anglais will also have The Waves playing so you can check out the band, look at their new cocktail menu , get something to eat and generally just soak in the vibe.

For those of you, like me, who can't drink wine they will also have half priced beers from 9 p.m. until 10 p.m. The Waves generally start playing around 9:30.

This week the Vert Anglais, the best new bar in Montpellier, is unveiling their new cocktail menu. They are going to be very reasonably priced and all are made with "top shelf" booze - i.e. not the crap booze you get in most Montpellier bars.

They were nice enough to give me a sneak peak at the list and I've decided to share it with you!


Vodka or Gin Martini - with your choice of an assortment of premium gins and vodkas

Espresso Martini

Cosmopolitans

Lady Marmalade

Apple Pie Martini

Pineapple and Cardomon Martini

Blody Mary

Seabreeze

Tarte Aux Pommes

Mojito

Lynchburg Lemonade

Long Island Ice Tea

White Russian

Pretty Boy Floyd

Cuba Libre

Caiparhina

Caiparoska

Ti Punch

Tonight Mi Barrio - in Quartier St Roch is holding their two year anniversary party.

Cheap drinks, Spanish girls, lots of cool people.

It should be a blast!

Some come on down - you are the next contestant on The Drink Is Right!