I fucking LOVE Charles' quirky written bits. Where else bu the Stranger would he not be pelted with sticks and driven wailing from the editor's office?

Her laughter sounds worse than a wild blast of children.

This is going to be the best column ever.

I don't mind loud talkers as much as I mind quiet rooms in which everyone will hear me talking even if I talk at a normal volume. I shut down completely.

Just out of curiosity, was the misspelling in the title supposed to be there? If so, what is the meaning of drinkiing?

they were laughing at your foo foo drinks, chuckles.

The sound of other people's laughter is always a difficult thing for the lonely to hear.

I'd rather drink at home. I can afford it. Bars are too expensive, and the words that I hear coming out of people's mouths are usually too inane to bear -- especially in places where the drinks cost $7 and up.

Well, there was this joke:

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x5j9n_m…

Love this column! Spot on the reason I like bars. The people watching, the stories you hear, all about the craziness of being human.

Next time, try an Old Fashioned.

1) "Drinkiing"?

2) Wine is NOT a cocktail

3) "Dogs bark, cats search for the most perfect spot to do nothing, squirrels dig and dig, crows look at you funny, seagulls swallow funny—in short, all the other animals bore me to tears."

Such gibberish. CM needs and editor to wipe the spittle off his text before it goes to press.

On Capitol Hill there are a thousand people of greater knowledge, insight, and skill for this gig. Why is the Rodney Allen Rippy of Seattle popular culture on this beat?

Swing by the Summit Public House. It could be in the running for unofficial headquarters of wayward knuckleheads with unfucking-believably-loud bikes.

Note: the joint is situated in a canyon of low-rise, mid-rise, and high-rise, apartments (accessible in 1st gear ONLY, so it would seem) in existence LONG before Summit Public House got their "sidewalk cafe" permit which apparently requires that female hyenas be imported in order to jack up the drunk-talk to 180 dB.

So much for open apartment windows in the summer.
Thanks, a-holes at Summit Public House. It was kinda nice before you guys went crack.

Hey Charlie M., I think they might have a tawny port, or perhaps, a predialytic-piss-brown ale worthy of pointless consideration.

Don't forget your ear plugs.

Oh well, it was fun in the days before it became a sort of Public House of cacophonic hysteria. Welcome to the Public A-hole Asylum. No charge for sidewalk syringes: finders keepers.