Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
First hour blackjack/ Down three hundred very fast/ Drinking heals pain
Strippers hotter there/ Play us like "rich kid" fiddles/ They're stone cold pros
Mom- Daughter Combo/ Jack is in it to win it/ Alcohol fools eye
Ballys is monstrous/ Walking places pain in ass/ Casino rapes me
Discrete sunglass looks/ Beach bar drinking, Sun makes worse/ Chat up many girl
They look underage/ How did they just buy that booze?/ Lets re-examine
Why take bong hitter?/ Afternoon pass out naked/ Rally for nighttime
Seagulls are angry/ Tourists have hardened resolve/ Eat in fear of birds
Dancing like Jagger/ Many hot girls at beach bar/ Booze makes me charming
Two German Au Pairs/ Take them to Jay Z's nightspot/ Twelve-fifty vodka
Hall way making out/ Not a proud moment, again/ Alcohol fools eye
Atlantic City/ Many women, surprise us/ Fun weekend, now broke
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Mike: Do you think we'll get there by midnight?
Trent: Baby, we're going to be up five hundy by midnight!
Trent: Vegas baby! Vegas!
I'll be on a blog hiatus til at least Tuesday due to the bachelor party. Not that this actually matters to anyone.
I'm also extremely confident in my ability to quote lines from the casino scenes in "Swingers" at least once every half hour for the entire duration of my trip.
Trent: Look at this, okay? I want you to remember this face, here. Okay? This is the guy behind the guy behind the guy.
Til next week, remember these things: Being rude to girls still works after elementary school, a "drinking problem" isn't a problem if you can afford it and you can remain in decent health, and hesitation is the key to going home alone. Oh and forget what the style experts tell you; always underdress. You don't care about convention, hell, you haven't washed this t-shirt in months! Apathy wins.
Trent: Baby, that was money! Tell me that wasn't money.
Mike: That was so demeaning.
Trent: She smiled, baby.
Mike: I can't believe what an asshole you are.
Trent: Did she, or did she not smile.
Mike: She was smiling at what an asshole you are.
Trent: She was smiling at how money I am, baby.
Me (As I'm about to leave the bar around 10 PM): Well listen, I need to head out and get some rest. Do you want to come have a drink at my place?
Her: Umm, I just met you like, 10 minutes ago. I'm not just going to go home with you just like that. We can go on a date after you get back from Atlantic City next week, if you want.
Me (with a perplexed look on my face): Oh, well I mean my rolodex is pretty full with dates for the next few months and I was actually out searching for new booty calls this evening. You do have potential in that area. (this said with an unblinking straight face, no smirking or indications that I'm even remotely kidding.)
Her: You're such an asshole. I will never be your booty call...
10 Minutes later, this is what I text her when I get home: Last chance for booty call? Any takers?
She texts back: I'll give it further consideration next week :) Have fun in AC and call me when you return.
Is it really this easy? I mean seriously? The more of a cad I am to girls, the more successful I tend to be. This shouldn't be news to any guy, but stop being so nice. Girls will say the opposite and that they only want nice guys, but don't listen to them.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
*I couldn't figure out if this image was pro-communist or anti-communist, or just some Asian people reading a book in a factory, but whatever it is, I think it fits this post. Possibly.
"Never give up. And never, under any circumstances, face the facts." -Ruth Gordon.
The facts are, I'm tossing a college degree into the shitter. I'm tossing a solid resume and solid work credentials into the trash. I'm wasting the time that should be spent building credibility with a company and climbing my way up the corporate ladder; to fuck around, bartend, and write. Oh and I've also been known to get my drink on at wildly inappropriate times.
I barely make enough money to pay all of my debts and bills, but I do. I hardly save a dime. I blog and I write and I sleep late. I get invited to local newspaper's open houses, where I'm introduced as some cool "trouble-making blogger" (I'm still baffled by that one). I have no strings attached sex with women that I don't deserve to be with. I make friends by the boatload even though I'm about as courteous as a rabid pit bull. Why is this????
What I've come to discover, and the action that will always improve your lot is: Work Ethic. Good things happen if you work hard at whatever you're doing at the moment (bartending, bricklaying,blogging, some boring 9 to 5, etc) . It doesn't matter if that thing isn't what you've set out to do. Luck will invariably happen if you just put your best work in and show up on time. I can be really lazy, but I show up to work on time and I kick the fucking ass out of some bartending when I'm on the clock. And guess what? Good things are starting to happen. Granted, it really helps that I enjoy my work, but still...
I understand that this post contradicts my message of "escaping the grind" and "living life". But I've seen the light. The only way I'll ever get to where I want to be, is to focus and just be the absolute best at what I'm doing, even if it's as simple a task as bartending.
Great things are coming my way. Of course it would help if I can come back from Atlantic City in the black. Oh and without contracting any STD's from the "private massage therapist" I happen to meet at the casino bar at 4 AM on Saturday morning. The No STD thing should always be the main building block when one is attempting to turn one's life around.
- At one of the bars I work at we have a "wall of shame" on which we plaster any phone numbers we (the bartenders) get during the course of the night. There's probably about 30 numbers on there from the past few months. I like to tap the wall before my shift for good luck. (similar to the Notre Dame, "play like a champion" sign in their football locker room.)
Well, yours truly added two numbers tonight. It's not really about the girl I meet or the number, it's more about making the announcement to your fellow bartenders after you're shut down for the evening, that they "can all suck my ass!!!! I got two numbers bitches!!!!" That's what is really important here. Belittling other people that you refer to as peers.
-When counting our tips for the past few weeks, I always demand the pile that has the most C-notes in it. I want to roll to Atlantic City packing some benjammins, not a bunch of crumpled up 10 dollar bills.
-As I got home and began trolling RVA Blogs, I came to see that my blog has been deemed a "popular blog" by whomever has the authority to make that decision. My first thought: "Tobacco Avenue, watch yo back bitch!" Next time I invite Tobacco Ave out drinking, he may want to keep an eye on his drink... One sip and the next thing he knows he'll be lying in a shallow grave somewhere out in Powhatan county, surrounded by Bookstore Piet, In Vino, Jon Baliles and myself. All of us wielding aluminum bats, Goodfellas style.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
A picture of convicted killer and former Richmond resident William Morva, his hair and beard making Ted Kaczynski look like a male model, and his face a twisted mask of anger as he shouts his last words to the courtroom.
So if you haven't heard, William Morva escaped a Montogomery County Prison in 06', killing two men along the way and yesterday he was sentenced to death. In his final rant to the courtroom after the sentencing he apparently announced that his new name is "Nemo", declared his innocence and then predicted society being violently overthrown by people like him in the future. I should also mention that he announced that he was dropping his slave name in order to be called Nemo. Umm, Will, you're white man. So I'm not sure if you can call it your "slave name", you know, because... well nevermind.
Now I have no issue with the death sentence or his crazy rants in the courtroom, If anything I applaud him for going out in a blaze of twisted glory. If I knew death was staring me in the face (although due to VA's complicated appeals system he won't fry for many many years, if ever), I would probably pull a Jerry Maguire speech too. I guess his rants just left me a bit baffled. I mean you really want to be called "Nemo"? The lovable kids underwater franchise star? Why not something more tough? Max Power for instance? T-Bone? Ice-Pick? I mean, really, anyone can think of a better moniker than "Nemo".
His speech left me wanting, but that picture splashed across the front of the Richmond Times Dispatch? Well I'll admit it, that shit sort of freaked me out. Check it out here: MorvaScaresMe.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
-Getting two decent looking girls (Okay, one was hot, one wasn't. (The Grenade)) out of a neighborhood bar where everyone knows each other is akin to playing that video game "Paperboy." People start coming out of the woodwork with lawnmowers, strollers; they're random bowling balls coming down the street at you, and meanwhile I'm just trying to make sure the right houses get their newspaper. I mean seriously, last night my buddy and I walked through a cockblock minefield just trying to get these girls out of the bar. Some assbag who works at the bar told these girls that I'm a whore. Who? Me? Jack? Never....
-We ended up at IHOP where I managed to have both of these girls say they "hate me" multiple times over the course of the meal because "I was insulting their intelligence". What intelligence?
- At one point I looked at my buddy and in front of the girls said, "Look man, I'm trying to help you out by coming along on this death march, but I'm not sure I can handle these two anymore."
- I'm really not a good wingman. I thought very seriously about just going for my buddy's girl even though we had both already "paired off". What can I say? She was hot. I didn't because even I have some moral boundries and completely trying to fuck over a friend would be a bit much.
- Unsurprisingly they both ended up warming up to me by the end of the meal, although I'll admit, I was a raging sarcastic asshole the entire time. It proves my theory that nice guys simply cannot win. These were somewhat smart, 27 year old girls too, not my garden variety 19 year olds.
-To answer your question... No, much to my chagrin, nothing happened. I blame society and their rigid guidelines against hooking up with a guy in an IHOP bathroom that you had just met one hour before. We really should look at revising some of the guidelines that govern "normal" society.
Friday, June 20, 2008
-Overall I enjoyed the Guide, especially Brandon Reynolds' piece "Catch A Cougar By The Tail" and the Bar List by category, which you can only find on their website. Oh and Brandon, I work on the West End 2 nights a week at a Cougar Den, I date 19 year olds and I date 40 year olds (okay I wouldn't say I "date" them...) and if you ever want to go on a real hunt (ummm, for journalistic purposes of course), contact me. I'll show you the seedy underbelly of cougardom.
-Also Brent Baldwins web exclusive on hangovers was pretty good. It's 11 AM on Friday morning right now, and I can barely see the keyboard to type this mess, so it was good to hear some alternative solutions to getting out of this hangover haze.
- I'm not going to bitch about any specific articles. I will second InVinos words about "The Bank" though. The place was hot for a second, but seems to have cooled off. I may just have been there on the wrong nights, but I'm a man of the streets, and the streets also say that The Bank has fallen off. I do understand that the article was meant to portray how The Bank is the Richmond international contingents bar of choice, and maybe this is the case. But the place still kind of sucks.
- Talking about Patios and Glasses and why Infuzion is so cool is just not really what I personally would like to see in a bar guide. In the end I basically felt like the bar guide was an advertisement for 6 or 7 bars. Although, admittedly, I love me some NY Deli. In fact I'm upset that it got a focus article because now rubes from all over the outer-buroughs of Richmond will "have to come see what the fuss is about" and I'll have to wait longer for my Guinness as the bartender makes these people Long Island ice teas or pours them white zinfandel (Another stereotype: The Uneducated masses (black, white, purple,etc) love them some White Zin. It's true, I don't care what you say).
-I need more first person perspective pieces. I need a bar crawl with details like: Service, The Crowd, Anecdotes, etc. I want more grime, more dirt, more interesting shit. I want less softball lobs and more risk. Call some bars out, crown some others. I want a guide on whats hot on specific nights, not just on happy hour and weekends. I want to know where I can hear 90's hip hop and enjoy a cheap vodka soda on a Monday night while chatting up girls in the 23 to 30 age range.
-I guess I just felt like the Guide was sort of glossed over for the masses, which is fine because Style Weekly writes for the masses and makes its money from the masses and wants to be read by the masses.
- I honestly feel that Richmond is a great drinking and bar city. I'm not embarassed to show people the nightlife because we have some good stuff to show. But to someone who just moved here or lives elsewhere and had read the guide, well, it sort of makes Richmond seem a bit stale, a bit to... ummm, corporate?
(Ed Note:No offense to Style. It's tough to criticize a publication that's been around 25 years and one that I read religiously. But Style deserved some sort of explanation for my comments on InVinos blog, and now they have it.)
Thursday, June 19, 2008
It was a mistake.
I want nothing to do with any of the blog gang-raping that went on. I don't care to make friends with a blogging community and I feel like an idiot for sheepishly agreeing with everyone.
I thought Jocelyn Balls was a funny parody and I won't sit here (anymore) and just be a bitch about it like I was and everyone else is.
I do like a few blogs from RVA blogs (and they should know who they are), but for the most part, stop coming to my blog if you're a wet blanket Richmondite (and you should probably know who you are).
Getting one hundred and fifty extra hits in one day is cool, but not at the expense of my dignity and honesty. I could care less about almost all of the opinions I saw and heard from today. I'm not racist and I won't sit here and backpeddle about it again (Like I did when I repeatedly changed my Juan Conde/Ric Young post, so it was more palatable for readers).
That only leaves a few things for me to cling to: Boozing, whoring and attempting to be a somewhat normal human being in this backward ass city. I think I can manage :)
PS: I know I have quite a few readers who don't live in Richmond, and to you, I apologize. I'm putting myself to sleep with all of this shit....
(The people involved in this post may only interest my Richmond readers, although the drunkeness involved will pretty much be a universal interest. Also this post isn't very PC, so just squash the urge to point that out to me. )
Last Friday I had my first night off in months. The plan was to start drinking at 3 Monkeys and then... Wait, that was the plan. So I met some friends (a mixture of guys and girls) and we got to drankin. I started off with a Ketel One Martini and when I start off with a big bowl of vodka, craziness will generally ensue.
We left 3 Monkeys around 6 PM and decided to have dinner at Metro Grill. As we walked down Robinson, being loud and obnoxious, we spotted who appeared to be local newscaster and anchor for channel 8, the man, the myth, the legend--Juan Conde. In our drunken state we began shouting his name and making yelping noises (Seinfeld- Joe Dimag Episode) to see if it was really him. He turned around and it was actually local newcaster and fill in for channel 6-- Ric Young. Okay, okay so Ric Young is black and Juan Conde is... umm. Really tan? Spanish? Asian? I still don't know what he is (Calm down, it was an honest mistake) . Ric Young scowls at us and we keep walking and of course laughing our fucking heads off.
We tuck into our table at Metro and think nothing of this. It wasn't over yet though.
So in walks Ric Young and his brother (his real brother, not his "brotha"...nevermind) and they end up sitting a few tables behind us. Now admittedly, at the beginning of the meal we were not being responsible adults and we were being a little rude. My two buddies, who are 30 I might add, kept saying "Juan Motherfucking Conde" in our conversation and they were saying it with some volume. We weren't yelling anything and we didn't think it was that loud, but I guess it was. Next thing you know, Ric Youngs' brother is standing over our table with his arms crossed like Mr.Clean, just staring us down. Ric Young and his brother are two huge dudes, so we politely shut the hell up, and then the rest of the meal Ric Young and my table kept exchanging strange glances.
Here's the kicker though, we befriended our waitress who also happened to be Ric Youngs' waitress. After they left, the waitress came up and told us what a complete asshole Ric Young was to her and how local celebrity Ric Young only left 4 dollars on a 50 dollar tab. Now I understand he was probably annoyed with us, but don't shaft this sweet little waitress you big shot. And another thing, get the fuck over yourself, you should be happy people recognize you and if you can't handle some drunken kids then stop being a "TV personality".
Also, and you knew this was coming, 4 dollars on a 50 dollar tab???? I really hate to say this again because I'm not even remotely racist, but way to go Ric Young-- Maintaining stereotypes one tip at a time. Seriously though, don't misconstrue this as hate, I have many African American friends and I don't want to be put in the same boat as this new Jocelyn Balls character.
Anyways, I'll be tuning in to my boy, Juan "Motherfucking" Conde from now on.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Across the screen runs the message: Child Abduction Emergency. Issued for the counties of: State of Virginia.
This is all it says and this runs for 5-6 minutes, making me miss two pivotal putts on the 11th green.
Ummm, what does this mean? Does this mean I should go out and invite some of the neighborhood kids into my place and after restraining them with duct tape, put them in the hidden closet beneath the stairs to ensure that they won't be abducted? Is this what NBC wants? Is there a child abductor on the loose somewhere in the State of Virginia that I should be keeping an eye out for? That doesn't even make sense to me. I'm confused. I need more details before I go on a kidnapping spree.
As I'm looking for my duct tape and a blunt object, the golf broadcast resumes, and I forget about the safety of the neighborhood kids for the moment.
Don't let anyone tell you that not being in a cubicle all day is some stress free adventure. It's really tough man.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
-A curious female came by to visit me tonight and by "curious", I mean mind-numbingly hot. I have a luncheon planned with this female to discuss current events, Obama, the U.S. Open, etc... Or we may just not talk and get drunk instead. I'll play that one by ear.
-I tend to get other bartending gigs offered here and there. I ponder some of the offers because some of these jobs are pretty big money gigs. It comes down to loyalty v. money basically. For the time being that's really all I can say about that.
-Two women were at a table tonight and they kept ordering some different exotic/pain in the ass drinks every order (Mai Tai's, Mojito's, Bahama Mamas). I like making drinks, but when I'm the only bartender with a full bar in addition to making these drinks for the service bar, it kind of sucks. I made the drinks without complaint because it's my job and I like the server I was making them for. What REALLY pissed me off is that these two women had a 55 dollar tab and left a 0 dollar tip. The server told me this and lucky for them they were already gone. I'm not above calling out people for completely shafting others on tips. sidenote: I don't like stereotypes but these women were African American. I get shafted by every race, but it is predominately black people. I'm not racist, and I also routinely get awesome tips from my African American patrons, but lets just put this out there: Black people tip like shit. On that note, so do Mexicans and so do white trash people. Thats just blog honesty my friends...
-I was working at a sports bar tonight and the entire bar erupted when Tiger Woods made that putt on 18. I have to admit, I got chills. A more clutch putt, there has not been... ever.
-I have a bar patron editing my first 60 pages of writing, in addition to whatever else I can crank out. He's smart and is some sort of grammar nerd. His motto: "Chicks dig the semi-colen." Seriously, he said this. Proclivity with women isn't really what I look for in an editor anyways. He does take drinks for writing help though. Now that's a deal I can get behind.
-It's now Monday morning. Here is what you should be focusing on this week:
1. Not killing self (This one's a biggie)
2. Sex with strangers (Easier said than done...even for me)
3. Maintaining your dignity (Look at yourself in the mirror... eww, wait, umm, actually this may be a bit much to ask for the week.)
Go get em champ!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
Its been an interesting 6 months, eh?
You have been a somewhat fulfilling creation of mine and I will no doubt continue to chronicle my wretched existance on your pages, but quite honestly, we need to have a little talk. Now I'm not pissed with you and this relationship will not be ending, but I just feel we need to discuss some matters:
1. You cockblock me with impunity almost every chance you get (which is quite often). I mean seriously, I lay all of this groundwork with a women, only for her to read you and then all of a sudden I don't hear from her again...ever. (This has happened twice now, with girls I somewhat liked, at the time.) Now I can't blame this all on you buddy. If a girl gets that uppity about a few written words then she was probably a frigid bitch to begin with, but still. Let's work on this one. I'll stop getting drunk and telling girls I'm a blogger, you stop being such a raging badass of female hatred... wait... how about I'll just stop telling girls I'm a blogger.
2. You claim an existance that is full of random and new hook-ups. Is this the complete truth? I mean hooking up with the same 4 or 5 twenty year olds week after week isn't exactly some mind-blowing statistic. Maybe we should both stop resting on our laurels and meet some new women. I'm a bartender, you're a figment of my imagination.. Together we can do this!!!
3. Some of my friends and both of my parents have turned a blind eye to you (thank god). I guess you tell a side of me that very few people knew existed? Well guess what? I. Don't. F-in. Care. We have to keep writing now... It's for our own good.
4. Be more consistent. Let's make the next 6 months doing 5 posts a week, with quality writing. If we're going to work together at 4 AM when I'm drunk, you need to start spell-checking me better also. Got it?
5. Stop making me backslide with Hooter's chicks and Women with 16 year olds and girls that I have no business screwing around with. Wait, this one is supposed to be in my letter to alcohol. Forget about this one.
6. Commenting on other people's blogs is fine with me, but don't start promising to attend blogger meet ups or any of that shit. If I like a blogger and their blog then I will gladly meet them, but going to a blogger meet up full of Christian right wing nut jobs and creepy, basement, D and D, internet people is something I will not do. Unless I'm on a three day Adderall bender and I know some hot blogger will be there. Then I'll stumble in and try my hardest to do something outrageous, offend everyone and end up getting banned from RVABlogs.
7. Finally, thank you. You make me write and I'm really starting to like this writing thing. You give me some direction in a life that had very little hope 6 months ago. But seriously dude, I enjoy getting laid, so lay off these poor simple-minded girls. I mean they grew up in Richmond for christs sake.... They just aren't that smart. :)
Sunday, June 8, 2008
- There is no other profession (except for professional pornographic actors) that have the ability to get laid more, and this includes real actors, models, extremely rich guys, NBA benchwarmers, firemen, etc... The quality of girl that a bartender will get is much much lower than these other professions and I contribute this to a lack in "super hot" drunken bar skanks, and an overabundance of "mediocore" drunken bar skanks. I made this ground-breaking scientific break through after many months of trial and error.
- On the note of shots. I know A LOT of drinks, but there are some I can't remember. Don't look at me funny when I admit that I don't know what some bar in Hoboken NJ refers to as the "The Big Blue Giant" and unless you and I are the only people in the bar, I do not want to have a discussion about it. Pick a common shot and I'll make it well, unless you're an aforementioned "drunken bar skank"; in that case I'll be a little heavy handed when I'm pouring the harder booze into the shaker... wink wink.
- It's called a BUY BACK. I give you a few free drinks and you give me a higher tip. You are essentially just paying for the free drinks and not having to leave a real tip. There are people who don't understand this and still leave the same lame ass 15 percent or whatever. Do you think I'm giving you a free drink because I like you? Because you and I are such trusted associates? Ummmm, no. While I do slip drinks to people I like or trusted regulars, lets be real: I got kids to feed bitch. Well not exactly, but I got random shit to blow my money on so you better learn the tipping rules.
- Don't ever ask to me to pour this one extra heavy. I know pour counts. You want heavy, ask for a double and pay for the extra hooch. I'm not exactly pouring light as it is and I can assure you that the bosses bottom line is not my main motivator in bartending. Tip well on the first drink or your first time in the bar, and I will remember you and treat you accordingly. I don't forget a face or someones drink. Names are another story though.
- I can smile and nod with the best of them, but lets be honest here, I probably don't want to talk to you. There are some people I genuinely enjoy speaking with while I'm working, and then there are some I'd like to shiv in the gut with my fruit knife. Here's my advice, either tip huge or be more interesting.
- You don't see this much in a cubicle or office setting, but trust me when I say, "There will always be another girl (or guy) coming down the line." You heartbroken? Sad about gettng dumped? Don't be. The best way to get over someone is to meet someone else (or have a romp in the hay with a "drunken bar skank"), and in my work environment there is never a shortage of new (somewhat sexy) people.
- Waitresses and hostesses are generally in the 18-23 year old range, and there is an unlimited amount of communication between them and the bartender. My advice: If you don't work in a bar, try and not date one of these people. There is to much temptation when you work in a restaurant, especially with charming rogues like me behind the bar.
Drunken Bar Skanks. I just wanted to make sure I mentioned them at least 4 times in this blog post.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
(As per usual I've blown a single day (Sat) way out of proportion and it was basically a disappointment, although there was some hilarity I'll share with you.)
11:30 PM: Wake up. Groan at the thought of another day of existence even though it's Saturday and I don't have to work. I field a call from my best buddy and cohort, who wants to move the time up to Noon from our originally scheduled 1 PM meeting time. We agree on 12:30 and I hit the shower.
12:15: I write a stupid blog post, complaining about drinking at Hooters with friends. What a pussy (myself, I mean...)
12:35: Walk into local Hooters. As I see my buddy and walk up to our table the first pitcher of Bud Light arrives. They're on special for 8.99. Some fucking special.
12:40: See our beautiful Russian waitress from last Saturday. She comes up and wants to know the nights I work downtown. I tell her and all of a sudden, life is good. Meanwhile, our new waitress from today is a complete and utter retard (I won't name names though), and I wonder how easy it would be to for me to get in her pants. (My buddy and I come to conclusion that it would be rediculously easy.)
1:15: We're two pitchers deep and our other friends start to filter in. Someone we know from middle school is sitting behind us and he keeps prattling on about some stupid basketball league we were all in a few months ago. I briefly consider slamming a half full pitcher on the back of his head. Judgement gets the better of me though.
1:30: The third pitcher is ordered and the voice level at the table is about 3 octaves higher from when we arrived. We eat their "Daytona Grilled" wings for lunch. (As of this writing, my shit is Tenn. Volunteer orange....and not in a good way.)
2:00: The gambling begins. The entire table (6 of us now) begins betting on how long it will take for our next two pitchers to arrive. I have 3 minutes in the pool and around the 2 minute mark I get up and try to influence the bet by meeting the retard waitress by the bar. It works! But I actually get her to arrive about 15 seconds to early and I lose the bet by a hair. After the first bet, our entire table begins making crazy prop bets and some ill-advised sport bets. (I took the field v. Big Brown on multiple bets for the Belmont..... although I'm sure I'll never see a dime from my cheap ass friends. See ya at the glue factory Big Brown!)
2:30: We are drunk. (Seriously, we have no self-control.)
2:45: We start yelling for our Russian waitress in voices that can only be described as "similar to the Russian General/Villain (Ouramov) in the first Pierce Brosnan installment of Bond; Goldeneye." Translation: We are being very obnoxious, very drunk and basically insulting the great nation of Russia, or what we are now lovingly referring to as, "The Eastern Bloc."
3:00 : We start playing a mutated version of flip-cup, in Hooters, much to the managers dismay. I lose 11 dollars due to my suddenly decreased chugging ability!? What the fuck?
3:45: We're on pitcher number 12 (they're six of us at the table). The manager at Hooters is now blatently staring at us from about 15 feet away. I wonder why they don't have bouncers at Hooters? They probably have tasers in lieu of manpower, which sort of scares me.
4:15: I ask for the check as I have a cookout to attend (My bar owners birthday cookout...details forthcoming). The check comes to 170. It takes about 20 minutes for us to figure out how to settle up. My buddy and I get stuck for most of it (No fucking surprise there.) Our waitress was slightly less attentive than an ADD riddled 6 year old, but I can't really blame her. I would be the same way if I had to deal with a table full of immature twentysomethings. Her name is (redacted) and she works on Saturday days. Heres to her getting fired or at least sternly reprimanded!!!! (I'm joking. It's one freakin trip to a restaurant! Not really anything meaningful in the grand scheme of things.... No offense IWICC :)
4:30: Stop by 7-11 to get my boss something for his birthday. I settle on 7 dollars worth of scratch off tickets (I wrapped his presents in a plastic bag).
5:00: I get to the cook out. I'm drunk. They're kids and families there. It's not a good combination for me. I spend the next hour trying to keep my mouth shut and not say anything to outrageous. I see friends from the bar where I work. We take shots. I'm the youngest person there other than my bosses 2 and 4 year olds. I seriously consider going out to the back yard and hitting the slip and slide with my bosses kids ( They had some sort of Moon-walk/ slip and slide gigantic structure in the back yard...Much more advanced than the plastic mat and sprinkler head combo that I used to rock.)
5:30: I make Smirnoff Razz and Coke Zero cocktails for people. (I think I'm some sort of bartender, although who can be sure at this point.)
5:45: I'm smoking cigarettes on the back deck even though I don't smoke. I try to look cool while I'm smoking... To no ones surprise, I look like an idiot.
6:00: I convince some rich guy to go in with me on a bet against some other rich guy. I take Big Brown vs. Field at 4 to 1. (I know this goes against my prior bets....what can I say? I was drunk.)
6:20: Big Brown pulls up lame and my rich backer has to write a check for 80 bucks. I laugh and I watch money I lost, exchange hands at no loss to myself, of course.
The rest of the day is black out. I sleep.
Addendum: As of this writing (1: 50 AM Sat/Sun), I did not have to remember to wear a condom (check last posting). In fact I would consider it a bit silly to wear a condom when I'm completely by myself...
ugh. You can't win em all.....
I dig deep and find some energy to get dressed. I'm reluctantly going.
This life is to fleeting and it's times like these (drinking with the friends I grew up with, and possibly bagging a Hooter's girl) that I will remember. Wasting time sleeping or watching TV is for the elderly. Using the "I'm to tired" excuse is bullshit too.
Come Monday I'll probably be ending "Hooter's Week" with a running diary from what is sure to be a fun Saturday. Here's to trying to remember to wear a condom, and to a SAFE Saturday.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
It's like a perfect storm of bars (Hooters being the first stop...I know how sad this is), drinking, women, gambling (Belmont Stakes, Go Casino Drive!), and the potential and inevitable trouble (the good kind of trouble) that my buddy and I tend to cause. We've already warned our local neighborhood bar of our plan because they'll probably have to bear the brunt of our antics at some point during the night.
I've put out the word to my harem of underage girls and drinking buddies, and a cleansing diet has begun, effective from now until noon on Saturday in order to prepare my body for the invasion of booze and bar food. Now..... we wait.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
- Hooters get a bad rap for having trashy girls and shitty food, but I feel that both of these are completely unjustified and just plain wrong. I've found the girls and food at my local Hooters to be exemplary and in some cases, down right sexy. Hooters has found in JackGoesForth, a new, loyal patron, and someone who will gladly take advantage of his ability to prey on sexy, underachieving, orange short shorts wearing waitstaff.
- I'm tired and I think I still have cleaning fluid on my hands from the bar...which is now in both of my eyes. Fuck.
-I finally stumbled across this Tucker Max guy (http://www.tuckermax.com/). I can write some nasty stuff (especially with some of my recent book writings), but my shit compared to his makes me look like Tucker Max Lite. This guy is a fucking animal with absolutely no shame. I found myself howling in the middle of Barnes and Noble as I read some of his stories.
-Alexis Texas. Blonde, trashy looking, big booty, freak in the sheets. You Porn her and share my excitement. She's a nice collage of my ex-girlfriends.
- Just when I think I know how to handle women and get exactly what I want in the female/male relationship, I get tossed a fucking curve ball. I won't explain this one, but I will say this: I still have A LOT to learn.
-I'm such a contradicting trainwreck. One minute I'm discussing the virtues of some porn star and the next minute I'm bitching because I'm beat up and having women troubles. I'll try to stick to Hooter's girls and trashy porn stars (the two are the same I think) from now on.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
"Where we heading Jack? What’s the plan?"
Well lets go to the Slip, the Bottom, lets hit Richbrau, Tobacco Co, Luckies, Cha Cha’s, Europa is a must, Stool Pigeons, Kobe Steakhouse for shots, Mars Bar, Element, Tiki Bobs? Why not? Let’s do drugs, lets drink, lets fornicate. Saturday was then a complete blur with a hangover that lasted until sometime in the late afternoon, if it ever went away. Then, pick some of the bars from the previous nights and that was probably my Saturday night.
If I’m hungover now at 24, I can’t think, I forget shit, colors aren’t bright, sunny days are hidden from like I'm a fucking vampire, and I’m extremely unproductive. I wonder how I used to do that all week and still maintain a job (although the job was as a sales rep for a liquor company…still). I love to drink and party, I guess I just don’t love the volume of it that I used to partake in.
Sober writing is good writing, sober bartending is good bartending, and a sober Jack is actually a decent human being…most of the time.