I'm Big With The Cougar Crowd

I got this email last night and it left me scratching my head:

HI - I'm just an average 30-something housewife who reads
and enjoys your blog. I had to tell you that I actually had a dream about you
last night. Oddly enough, considering most of the posts on your blog, the dream
was never about sex - though I must have been younger because we were dating!: )Anyhow, just to let you know your "sphere of influence" - Love your
blog!

-(Name Redacted)

Apparently I'm huge with the 30-something housewife crowd. Who would've thought?

So for all those 30-somethings out there who read this blog (including the sender of the above email) and who happen to look like this 30 something housewife:

Please do not hesitate to contact me at Jackgoesforth@gmail.com or you can just saunter up to the bar in some sort of animal print (leopard works) for identification purposes and then proceed to drop the room key to whatever local hotel room you purchased in advance for our rendezvous. Although ladies, please keep in mind that I only lay my head down in three stars or above.

Good Book Recommendations?

UPDATE: I've made a list of all the recommended books that I haven't previously read. Once I finish my first choice ("Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Rand) I will create a column on the right side of the blog that will list every book I finish. Keep an eye out for your reco and once you see it, pat yourself on the back for making me a better person and a more capable pick up artist when it comes to really smart chicks. Also get your ass down to the bar and claim a round of drinks.


This blog and by extension, my life, is getting stale. I think about sex, I write about sex. I bartend a few nights a week, I pay bills, I do the same stuff. I remember when I started this blog my life seemed a bit more perilous, a bit more exciting. I remind myself that I have a goal of eradicating my debts and getting back in the black, which is what I'm doing, but it's still a boring journey. Don't get me wrong, my life is fun, more fun than I can handle sometimes, it's just sort of, empty I guess. I can only write about hitting on girls and my sexual misadventures so many times. I need more.

I realize now that I had more ideas when I was reading more. Now instead of reading I just go to the gym or I drink or I sit in a stupor watching Family Guy and Man Vs. Wild. I've only read in the past few weeks while I was on the john and that's just sad. My brain is getting mushy. Don't listen to the people who say that regular sex keeps you sharp... I'm fairly certain it's just making me more stupider.

I need my readers help.

What are some good books that you would personally recommend (and that you have read) to a 25 year old with a peter pan complex and a lot of time on his hands? I need some new blood (books not women). This blog's future depends on you.

Leave your book recommendations and reasons for reading them in the comment section or email me and I'll make a list. Then hopefully I'll start next week by reading a few of the books while freeloading at Barnes and Noble...Cause I can't afford books.

If I read one of your book recos then you will be entitled to a free drink and a free shot on me....and that includes you, "anonymous".

Girl Fights Jack At His Own Game

The girl that I posted about a few days ago (You know you're too comfortable with a girl when...) responded via email with her own list. I can't post the entire email due to some of its content and when I can't post something on this blog due to content, you know it has got to be pretty bad.

Enjoy:

You know you’re just a skirt / an unfortunate
sucker when…

-You're inordinately excited about being said post-work
bootycall even though one of the first things he says to you upon arrival is
that your outfit does "absolutely nothing for his groin"

-You give your body to him any way he wants it (except for
one). and he scornfully says “Jesus fucking Christ” when you try to
romance his stone pre- noon

-You seriously get excited at the thought of being
conjoined at the dick with him and he lets you guzzle his saliva like he's not a
sickly aids patient.

-And perhaps the most telling- You know you’re a sucker
when…. Even after the god awful shepherds pie burps, endless
snoring that would make barry white sound like jaleel white (urkel not
steffan) the disrespectful goodbyes (or lack thereof), and the rolodex
of “scandalous ho-monsters” that he’s added you to…You still wish he was
here.

These were some of the more humorous ones she sent me. It's difficult to find a girl who can read this blog and still tolerate my presence, so I commend her twisted sense of humor and lack of pretentiousness.

I emailed her back and told her she should start her own blog.

Late Late Night Richmond

I went to ODC (Old Dominion Club) tonight after I got off work. ODC is a late night "private club" here in Richmond. Somehow they can serve booze at 4 AM, having something to do with the private nature of the place I assume. We had a "member" get us in.

To paraphrase one of my favorite quotes from a now defunct, and inspirational (to me) blog,

"There's enough fodder for mockery in there to keep 100 monkeys blogging non-stop for a year."

I'm not even sure what to say about that place. I went with a few friends/co-workers and at numberous points we all looked at each other with the same expression: "What in the fuck are we doing here?" Now, I admit to living a pretty sordid life, but hanging out at ODC even made me blush.

I guess there's nowhere else to party that late at night and to ODC's credit, I saw a few friends who I know to be somewhat solid people walking around in there. But to ODC's discredit, I also felt like I was standing in a powder keg that was about to explode. If it wasn't for the numerous security guards walking around, I would've stood with my back to a wall and my hand on my wallet at all times.

On a positive note, ODC is the official late night hangout for every stripper in Richmond, which barring any unforeseen 3 day coke binges, will be the only reason I ever return.

Although after witnessing the state of Richmond strippers these days, I'm not even sure if they could get me to come back.

You're Too Comfortable With A Girl When...

-You openly and (in my case) excitedly talk to complete strangers about trying to coerce her into experimenting with anal sex.

- Instead of asking her out to dinner, you ask her if you can come over to her apartment for a "bang date".

- You belch a gassy combination of crappy Sheppard's pie and 4 Miller Lites directly into her face, multiple times during a date.

- You never cease to say anything that crosses your mind and I do mean anything. Other people sometimes visibly cringe when listening to the two of you talk.

- You stand behind her in the bathroom eating cheddar and sour cream Ruffles while she proceeds to vomit her intestines out, and then instead of asking if she's okay, you ask if she has any dip.

- You can joke about period blood, killing babies and getting McDonald's breakfast all in the same exchange.

- You spit in your hand and jokingly tell her to eat it, and she does.


Clearly I like my women to be nearly as sick as I am.


...So ladies, now you see what going on a date with Jack Goes Forth is like. Any takers? Anybody? Hello?

Robot Hearts Begins

The inaugural addition of Robot Hearts, my joint dating column, came out today. Get over to RVAnews and check it out. Leave feedback, submit any dating and/or sex dilemmas or just email us and tell us how pretentious and unfunny we are...it all works.

And yes, we stole the icon (above) from The Legend of Zelda.

Money Can Buy Love

Recently I've made a serious effort to not talk much about my bartending or my bars or the people in my bars. My current gig is awesome and I'm just not in a place where I can get shitcanned for blogging (again). But something happened last night that deserves mention. I'm keeping it ultra-vague though.

A girl I sort of know comes into the bar, orders two beers, asks me to run her card. The tab comes to 6.50 $. She looks at me, smiles and proceeds to leave a 50 dollar tip. I wasn't that surprised because this girl had done the same thing a few months ago. I smiled and slapped her high five. I then proceeded to ring the fuck out of the "tip bell." What happened next was the remarkable part.

She comes back up 5 minutes later and asks for two shots. I make the shots and I hand them to her. I tell her that the shots are on the house. She shakes her head NO and hands me her card.

"Run it."

I run the card for 12 dollars and she proceeds to again leave me a 50 dollar tip.

She comes up 5 minutes later, refuses a free round and leaves another 50 dollar tip on a 6.50 tab.

For those of you keeping track at home, that's 150 dollars in tips on 25 dollars. I showed my manager immediately to assure him that I didn't give out any free drinks to earn such a huge tip.

The girl?? Well, she just bought my love for life. She can have it all, and by all, I mean she can get the "little Jack Goes Forth" and an all-expenses paid date to Weezies Kitchen. Although knowing her, I probably won't have to pay.

A Baby Named Jack

I received an email today informing me that the Catrow's (Ross and Val) of RVAnews.com had just had their son and that they had named him Jack.

My response to the email: "That kid will now lead a life full of increased virility and social standing..all due to four little letters. -Jack"

What I failed to mention is that the kid will also have his name used in a variety of ways that his parents never intended, including the oh-so-popular "Jack-off", or "Jack Mehoff", and don't forget about the lovely "Jackass". Also he will be called "Jackie" by many, even at the advanced age of 25 years old.

My personal favorite as of late has been "Jack In Your Box" for inappropiate reasons that I won't get into on the blog.

Either way, Catrows, congrats on choosing such a strong, manly name for your first born. May he go forth and prosper.

Quantum Of What The Hell Was That?

"Why yes Mr. Bond, I am a highly educated, intelligent young pencil pusher for M16, who after knowing you for 20 minutes will gladly remove my panties and let you violate every hole I've got."



I'd say don't keep reading if you haven't seen the movie, or "spoiler alert", but quite honestly, I don't really know what the fuck was going on so there's not much I can spoil.

Can anyone decipher what Quantum Of Solace was actually about? Seriously I have no idea what I was just watching. Was Bond out for revenge or out to save Bolivia's water supply? Who was the guy at the end (Vespyr's ex-boyfriend?) and why was Bond in that apartment? How does oil come into play and why do people keep ending up dead and covered in it? Did we get any closure on this QUANTUM organization? Was the dufus who played the CIA agent "Bean" a good or a bad guy? I could literally ask about 20 more questions after seeing the movie for the first time tonight.

Some thoughts:

- Daniel Craig is a bad man. His Bond is mean, a thief, a complete dickhead...and for whatever reason it works. This isn't your Pierce Brosnan, drink a martini, wink at girls and spout one-liners Bond. Regardless of how rediculous and unexplainable the story was, Craig makes the movie watchable.

- Mathieu Amalric made a weak foe. Would he actually stand a shred of a chance in a fight with Daniel Craig's Bond? Of course not, although he holds his own at the end of the movie. Doesn't Amalric remind anyone of Casino Royale's villian, Mads Mikkelsen? And what's with Amalric's little assistant guy and his Dumb and Dumber haircut?

- The Bond girl is insanely hot and for some reason Bond doesn't give her his little 007 a single time, which actually made him seem more human. It should be noted that he does sleep with a hot redhead who works at M16 and who later, big surprise here, ends up covered in oil. A funny sidenote: Bond gets the redhead in bed an hour after meeting her by asking her to "help him find the stationary" in the hotel room they just checked into. Man, if I only had a nickel for everytime that line worked...


My final take: Quantum Of Solace is not a good movie and I don't want to wait three more years for another movie that will bring some closure to all of the questions it left open.

In an effort to be more gritty and real (like the Bourne Identity series) the movie passes and fails. The fighting scenes certainly evoke Jason Bourne and the facial scars Bond carries throughout the movie give it an element of realness that previous Bonds never had, but like all Bond movies, most of the shit is just too unbelievable.

I'm a Bond fanatic so I'll be back in the theatre in a few days to try and make sense of this mess, and I would recommend it to the guy who likes car chases and crazy action sequences, just don't go for a coherent plot or storyline.

Bartender Odds

Percentage chance of a patron trying to walk out on, and/or not pay their tab, based on the first drink ordered:

Long Island Iced Tea: 4% chance

Blue Motorcycle: 7% chance

Grey Goose and Pineapple: 13% chance

"Whatever the cheapest drink in the bar is": 17% chance

Corona with grenadine in it: 24% chance



This study is based on my last 10,000 drinks poured. Of course 10,000 is a completely arbitrary number and I have no idea how many drinks I even poured in the last 6 hours. Regardless, if Wilt Chamberlain can claim to have slept with 10,000 women, then I can make the claim to have poured 10,000 drinks. Even if we're both off by a few thousand...

The purpose of this study? Well, there really isn't one. Just don't get offended when I ask for your credit card to hold the tab. I've seen too many people I used to trust, "forget" to pay their tab.

Stupid Jack

On Tuesday I mentioned that "I should really be smoking pot more often" after I enjoyed some at a dinner party on Monday evening.

And then yesterday after a week of rain checks and conflicting schedules I was planning on meeting up with this girl that I occasionally talk to/sleep with. As I was parking in front of her apartment I noticed her roll up right behind me. I waited on the sidewalk and as she got out of her car I smelled it, the pungent aroma of marijuana. I looked at her face and she was stoned out of her mind, eyes slits and her mouth was upturned in a goofy grin. For whatever reason I got pissed and I felt like she was disrespecting me by getting high right before the only time we could spend together this week. I told her this and then I left.

The irony of all this was not lost on me.

Driving away I realized how much of an idiot I am. I should've gone inside with her, had sex, and then left.

Instead I was too stubborn and insecure to just let it be.



She handed me this before I left. It's a small picture she drew of me.

And this is Jack's never-ending string of irrational stupidity.

Robot Hearts

I've started working on the new dating column, which is being called "Robot Hearts" and is slated to begin Tuesday the 18th (next week) over at RVAnews.com. Once the techie geeks (Ross Catrow) make the design for the column, which I'm being told is a cool pixelated heart , I'll probably put a permanent link to the column somewhere on this blog.

Looking at the questions and attempting to answer relationship (and some sex) related queries has made me realize a few things:

1. I'm far from an expert on relationships, in fact I may be the last person you would want to speak with regarding male/female relations. My longest relationship was a three year roller coaster of break-ups and make-ups, punctuated by shouting matches in bars and really good sex. The rest of my relationship resume consists of many one to three month stands with the entire gamut of womenfolk, most of which did not end well.

2. What will make the column good is that I'm going to shoot from the hip and hold nothing back. I want the column to be funny (and it will be), but I also want to try and give real answers. I'm expecting my two female counterparts (Val Catrow and Susan Howson) to give the more sensible answers, but we'll see...

3. Actually having to sit down and write is sort of weird. I like the feeling of doing work, but it's different from blogging because I usually blog without care and without time frames. This is different.

4. I predict Robot Hearts will kick ass. The name alone makes it a winner in my book.

Stay tuned and I'll point you over to RVAnews next week for the first installment (of many, hopefully).

Stoner Talk

Last night I attended a dinner party. Seated across from me were three 21 year old girls. I sort of had an interest in one of them, but the conversation just wasn't there and I don't think she was interested anyways. Aside from a raging physical attraction, I could barely speak to her without cringing. At the tender age of 25 I'm already tired of trying to make intelligent conversation with younger girls, which is a problem because I'm not at all tired of sleeping with younger girls.

Later on in the evening I was talking to one of my older (36) "playboy" type friends and I asked him how he can continue to put in the mind-numbing effort it takes to date these types of girls ("these types" being beautiful and dumb as a box of rocks). His immediate, deadpan response was:

"Jack, picking up young girls is like holding onto a small bird with both hands. You hold it too tight and you'll kill it. You hold it too softly and it'll fly away..."

Now keep in mind that we had just taken a few monster bowl hits and had a few glasses of wine, but for whatever reason that answer just made sense. I think it makes sense for picking up any woman, regardless of age. Of course his response didn't really answer my original question but thats neither here nor there.

My jaw still hurts from laughing so hard last night. I should really be smoking pot more often.

A Bar Observation

A young military guy is drinking with his buddies. He is about to be shipped off and they're all celebrating. I'm joking with the group of guys and aside from them being a little drunk, they're basically a pleasure to have in the bar. Fast forward three hours later. Military guy is ready to leave and asks for his tab. The tab is something like 70 dollars and I hand him the receipt slips and his credit card. I walk away to make drinks for someone else. Two minutes later I come back and the guy says,

"Where's my credit card? You didn't give me my credit card back?!"

He's clearly angry and I assure him that I did give the card back. I tell him to check his wallet and he drunkenly fumbles through the wallet with no luck. He starts raising his voice and I even go back to the register to make sure I didn't drop it somewhere. A scene is starting to build around this dude yelling and saying he won't pay his check. The other bartender comes over to see what's going on and the military guy threatens to punch him.

Long story short, I finally get him to check his pockets. Lo and behold, he put his card in his jeans the second I handed it back to him. Predictably the guy doesn't apologize, acting as if it's our fault that he put his credit card in his pocket after I handed it back to him. I walk away without saying a word and with nary an expression on my face. It's not always military guys, but this scenario happens about 2-3 times a night.

I support the men in uniform, but not when they become drunken idiots who want to fight everyone and then grope every women in the joint (which is pretty common when they're groups of them drinking together). I understand that serving our country in times of war is the most honorable thing a man can do and I respect that to the fullest, but it doesn't give you a pass to be a belligerent maniac when you're back on American soil.

Is it a stereotype that packs of military guys go out, get shitfaced, try to fight people and generally behave like they were raised in a barn? Of course it is, but like other stereotypes, I've seen this one be true too many times.

Save Richmond Hearts Jack

From the kind people over at SaveRichmond.com:

"Horndog, man about town, drink-mixer and controversial observer — Richmond’s more charismatic version of Joe the Plumber managed to take a hedonistic worldview and make a sizable splash on the local political scene as a would-be kingmaker. I don’t always agree with him, but I hope that Jack never “settles down.” - Under ".Election Winners and Losers"




I don't know about "horndog", but if that implies that I spend more time than most enthusiastically participating in gentlemanly pursuits...well then yes, horndog fits the bill.

And don't worry Don, settling down (with a women or on this blog) is the last thing on my mind.

Next Day's Trash

*Pic received via text this morning.

Apparently we waxed off the entire bottle in the shower.

Oh so thats (part of) why I feel like hell today.

Room For Blogs

Some random thoughts on blogging:

1. I think there's a particular subset of people (97 percent of the world's population) that still scoff at blogs and think that bloggers are dorks. I don't blame them. I once used to make fun of blogs and the entire concept of tracking personal thoughts or random musings for the world to see. I'm still convinced that until blogs started to become super-mainstream, original bloggers (OB's) were and still are, just kids who played a lot of D and D, and/or World of Warcraft.

2. I've read that blogs and blogging have already peaked, but I really don't believe that. Evidenced by the fact that a lot of huge corporations have started a "corporate blog". Most of these corporations are behind the curve, but still, it's happening. I think the ability to connect with people on a more personal level has prompted these behemoths (Dell, Ford, Best Buy) to start blogs in addition to their regular websites. Some companies (Dell, for one) even have entire teams of bloggers whose only job is to blog. I wonder if Pornhub.com or Redtube.com is looking for a full-time blogger? I'd kill in that job...kill.

3. Another reason why blogging is still growing. Waaaayyyy behind the curve newspapers, cough cough, The Richmond Times Dispatch, are starting 3-4 blogs a day. Although most of them are good fodder to help you doze off at 3 PM, I like what they're trying to do. And what the crap is this RichmondChic.com thing?

4. I predict that I'll get a real-paying job in the future, as an indirect result of this blog. I don't consider writing for RVAnews a "real paying job", but it's a start. Instead of having to sell myself via an interview or networking, I sell myself everyday, instantly over blog. This concept is nothing new, but it's new to me. Of course the person who eventually would hire me would also have to be okay with blunt speak about sex and other people . Maybe I can just attempt to do more substantive writing, while still clogging girl's toilets with condoms and defending myself from crazed ex-boyfriends.

5. I've met more cool people through blogging than I have through any other endeavor (except maybe bartending, but it's close).

6. I've met more girls through bartending, although blogging is running a surprising, yet distant second.

7. If I ever get enough readers (my goal number is 100 K hits, not uniques, a month), I will totally sell out and put Google AdSense on my blog. It's money for nothing, and probably a few chicks for free too.

8. I just watched an old music video of Jay Z's "Who You Wit" and that's what made me think of the term OB's or Original Bloggers. I'm not taking credit for the term because I'm sure it's been said before. In the video there is a "Player's Ball" and they have the "Pimp of the Year Awards". Do you think they have bloggers balls? I bet this has happened before. In my imagination it involves a lot of pale, pudgy, acne ridden dudes with goatees, then they probably hire professionals to come in and pretend to flirt with everyone. Sort of like a porn convention I suppose...Or Hooters, but Hooters girls are genuine when they flirt with me...I swear.

JGF Enters A New Relationship (With Dell)

UPDATE: I sent this post to Dell's "Chief Blogger" (what a title?!) and they included it in a post on their main blog today. Sweet, the Dell people and their loyal legions now know me as you people do, Jack The Blogging Bartender. Now where my free software at bitches???

My blogging output, writing and overall awesomeness just got more, umm, awesomer (okay so the writing has yet to improve). I just purchased the new Dell Inspiron Mini 9:

So I starting thinking about this last week after Hugh over at Gaping Void reviewed it. I did some research and then I did a little more research, even going as far to map out the exact size of the Mini on a sheet of paper to see if my giant manhands could type on it. After going to the ends of the internet to read reviews, I made my decision.

I needed a machine that would allow me to write, blog, and web surf, nothing more, nothing less. I also needed something that was highly portable. I don't need to make movies or download a shit ton of music or porn (I have enough to last me until 2012 last I checked), I just need a reliable machine to type on. The Dell Mini is my guy and even after I added some cool features as I "built" my labtop at Dell.com, the price was still a whisker below 500$

You thought I was a blogging douche before? Just wait...

I Am A Richmond Blogger Douche

A commenter has notified me that someone has taken the time to blow me up on TheDirty.com. Click on "Richmond" below.


Richmond Blogger Douche

THE DIRTY ARMY: This douche Jack has a blog here in Richmond that he thinks is the hottest sh*t known to man. He recently got fired from one of his bartending gigs for blogging about a customer and now he goes around bragging to girls about how he’s a writer and about how he got “censored” for blogging. Blow this assbag up for being an idiot.

"Everyone thinks they can be me now."- Nik Richie (founder of reality blog, The Dirty.com)


The cool and slightly strange part about this is, I'm wearing my aforementioned Soviet Union sickle and hammer t-shirt, and I'm almost certain that this picture was taken at the Strawberry Hill Races this past May. Okay okay, I look like a douche in the picture

...And I DO NOT brag to girls about this blog. You people read this blog. Do you really think I have anything to brag about?... I instead get others to drop subtle hints about how awesome I am. It's part of a deal I worked out with some other area bartenders.

I'm A Hipster Now, I Mean, Whatever Dude, I Like Don't Even Care

I met with a triumvirate of semi-hipsterdom from RVAnews tonight. We met at Ipanema Cafe, a hipper than thou, extremely cheap basement bar on the campus of VCU. Even in my awesome Soviet Union sickle and hammer t-shirt, semi-tight jeans and dirty sneaks, I was out of place. Probably because I can't grow a beard to save my life, my hair had a speckle of gel in it, and my arms give the impression that I actually lift more than 22 ounces of PBR on a regular basis. Not that I'm hating on the scene, I just don't think I can fit in.

Nevertheless, I brainstormed with some smart people from a smart website that I think is on the verge of something big. The best idea that came from our session that will never actually be utilized??? To name our new dating column "RVAholes". Get it? It's clever, no?

A cool ass website wants to pay me to contribute and I'm psyched, even if it means I have to stop lifting weights and stop participating in the daily ritual of cleansing my body just to fit in. Besides, there were some cute lil VCU girls walking around in there.

Does anyone know where a guy who is 6'4, 200 pounds can find a pair of sssuuuupppperrr tight black jeans? Oh and a sick hoodie would help too, preferably with coffee stains already ingrained. I've already thrown out all of my Jason Mraz CDs so I'm well on my way.

The Jealous Ex

BANG BANG BANG!!!!

I shoot up out of bed and look at the front door which is visible from where we're laying.

"Who the fuck is that?!?" I tense up and start to go to the door.

She puts her arm around my waist and restrains me from standing up out of bed.

She whispers, "Oh shit, please don't get up. be quiet, be quiet. Oh god!"

Her voice is fearful and she scrambles out of bed and puts a robe on to cover her naked body.

BANG BANG BANG!!!!

I hear an unknown dude yell, "Open the fucking door (name redacted)!"

I immediately find my jeans and throw them on without bothering to search her filthy floor for my boxers. My heart is pounding and I can only assume that this guy isn't knocking on the door at 1 AM to sell us cookies.

She gets up, goes out the door and closes it behind her. I hear shouts of "Oh, so you're fucking another dude now!? Who is he?!" and "We sleep together every night and you're gonna fucking do this to me?" I'm only wearing jeans and both of my fists are clenched in the living room, preparing to face an attacker that I've never met or seen. Then I hear feet pounding down steps, a car starting and tires screeching off. I look out the window but it's too late to see anything.

Before she can even open the door to come back in, I've found my t-shirt and my keys. She re-enters and sees that I'm dressed. She starts crying. I'm out the door without asking for a reason or an excuse.

I'm not in the business of dealing with crazy ex-boyfriends or for all I know, crazy current boyfriends. Although I will say that when the baseline knee jerk emotion of jealousy comes and that adrenaline rush hits you, you'll rarely feel more alive. In fact, I couldn't wait to get home just so I could blog about it. I suppose I should more be upset about the girl and the shitty situation I've gotten myself into, but... well... It was kind of exciting.

Strangely enough I empathize with the maniac banging on the door. I remember the time when I heard that my "big" ex from college was sleeping with another guy and I remember the feeling of my stomach going into my throat. It sucks and we've all been there.

...And in this particular instance, I'm happy to not be that guy.