Wednesday, February 25, 2009
- I now understand why people start to get fat in their late twenties. They work a lot in an effort to get ahead and make money, while at the same time they neglect their sleep and personal health. Oh, and they eat 8,000 calorie burritos for dinner every night because they're free, or maybe that's just me. Regardless, I'm not exactly pushing for middle management at my work, but I defy most people to say that they work as many hours as I do in a week. Of course I can sneak a drink or two so it really isn't that bad. I just can't find my gym time and no gym time makes Jack a very unhappy boy.
- This is probably more fit for my dating column Robot Hearts, but liking girls is a bitch. Especially when they have a "boyfriend" or whatever. I've tried my hardest to be an ice queen, but emotions never really leave a person. Wah Wah Cheezburger. I disgust myself, among others.
- Having a blog persona to many random strangers is interesting, but it's getting old. Do I stop blogging like my boy did? No, but things have changed...for the moment. I have a feeling things will go back to how they were, which at 4 AM and drunk, isn't very appealing. Here's to unrequited liking. Everyone can relate.
- Great band who I found on Interpol's Pandora station: "The Editors". Maybe they've been around for a while, I don't know. I just knows I likes em. They also sound just like Interpol, which isn't a bad thing at all. Whoa, after reading The Editors "Wiki", I realized that I'm a bit behind the times. Either way, thank you Pandora, you keep me somewhat in touch with the world outside of the bar.
- On Pornhub tonight I clicked on a video of people doing it while scuba diving, underwater, in their scuba gear. I watched for a second because I was fascinated, but it really didn't do anything for me. Who gets off on scuba sex? I imagine scuba divers do, but I just don't see there being a very large market for that. I'm into some weird shit, but scuba sex? Ima pass.
- On a somewhat positive note, my best friend and I have decided to go on a 15 bar, bar crawl on Friday. I'm somewhat hoping something comes up and one of us can't make it. We're bound to have an incredible time, but we're also bound to start a fight, spend 800 dollars and then end up hooking up with two trannies in his living room...all by midnight. Then we'll go to Sheetz and get in another fight while we wait for our shmurgers, or in his case, shubs.
- Sheetz is the fucking greatest place on earth.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
I'm here to say, that yes, it's perfectly okay. I think. Maybe.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
If you're going out tonight, especially after reading my reasons for going on a Thursday, feel free to swing by Cha Cha's Cantina down in Shockoe Slip. Drink specials, a DJ and the woman or man that you will eventually marry and have children with will all be awaiting you. Isn't that exciting?
If you're a JGF blog reader and you mention this fact to me, you will get special treatment. Drinks may somehow be involved in the "special treatment" promise.
Cha Cha's Cantina
1419 E Cary St.
Ask for Jack.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
"As we finished eating, I was going over in my head how to approach the bill. I was treating, but I didn't feel like we should be paying for one of the entrees. I mean, I couldn't take it out of the tip. It wasn't likely our server's fault and withholding the gratuity on $25 wouldn't really be much of a trade-off...
...I leave $5 on the table, which probably confirms most of my readers' suspicions that I'm not just frugal, but inappropriately cheap...
...In the end, I figure that bad tippers and burnt customers is the cost of doing a booming business for Lulu's and for our server."
Okay so it took forever to get your food, that sucks. But you get an entire meal comped and then you proceed to completely shaft your waitress, who was nothing but nice the whole time? One would think that a foodie would understand that a waitress is not a line cook and often times a server will catch hell for even suggesting the kitchen speed up. Plus, getting an entire meal comped is not a common practice. She probably had to beg her manager for it and possibly, just possibly, she may have had to eat some of that meal's costs out of her own money at the end of her shift. Punishing her because of a crowded restaurant and because "They (Lulu's) made a shitload of money that brunch service" is sad. The restaurant probably did rake in the dough and you should punish them by not returning.
I don't think I know the waitress in question, but if anyone can direct her to this post, let it be known that a drink and a shot is on me anytime. We all (in the industry) put up with a lot of crap with nary a frown, but c'mon??? 5 bucks on a free meal?
Some people should know better. Again, nothing personal against the Foodie, but I gotta stand up for my people sometimes.
Reasons to go out on a Wednesday or Thursday in Richmond Virginia (for men and women):
- Up to a 40% reduction in "non-accidental dancefloor crotchgrabbing" in comparison to Fridays.
- Ed Hardy and his legion of idiots stay in on the weeknights so that they can spray tan and work on making their arm and neck veins "pop" as much as humanly possible. Cause everyone knows, the ladies love a roid' monster.
-Locals (as in Richmonders) go out during these nights. It's rare that you will see a Mechanicvillian or Chesterfieldite out in the city on a non-weekend night. You may see a Midlothian-bred person or two, but it's okay because we're normal. Just don't go past Hull Street. Please god, whatever you do, never go past Hull Street!
- Being hungover at work on a Friday sucks, but let's be honest here, how healthy do you need to feel in order to check your email 78 times and read back issues of The Onion all day? On a personal note, I actually reached the end of the internet one hungover Friday when I still used to have an office job. Seriously, there was absolutely nothing else for me to read or look at. I celebrated this by going down the elevator to Starbucks for the third time that morning and ogling the 18 year old barista.
- The last 11 girls I've dated, I met on a Thursday night. *
-Joaquin Phoenix only chops and screws and/or slaps his bitches on Wednesday nights. The rest of the week he's just a creepy, strangely bearded white guy who used to be a respected actor.
- Chicks dig guys who sit sullenly at the bar on a slower night. It helps if you're chain smoking, drinking the "coldest Bud-Heavy in the fucking bar", and taking shots of house bourbon. Also be sure to put your face in your hands and whimper every ten minutes or so. Follow these instructions on a Wednesday or Thursday and BAM! Welcome to Sexwithamodelville, USA. Population: You and 4 models.
- The sweet smell of desperation. Thursday evenings are like one prolonged Friday night at 1:50 AM where the last man standing after a barrage of shots will generally take home the girl. It's like this all night on Thursdays. My advice: Be coherent and you win. In fact, just be alive and you probably have a decent chance of scoring in Richmond on a Thursday.
- Boobs (self-explanatory)
- Little known fact: Most bars refuse to serve Long Island Iced Teas on Thursdays, reducing the douchebag quotient to a week long low of 22 % that night. **
- Last but not even remotely least, Jack Goes Forth bartends at Cha Cha's Cantina every Wednesday and Thursday. So if model sex, boobs and a notable absence of Ed Hardy wearing idiots aren't your things, there is still a solid reason for you to come out for a drink.
* Jack Goes Forth has never even slept with 11 women, much less "dated" 11.
** Study percentage results taken over one Thursday night (last week). Also, there are no known bars that refuse to serve Long Island Iced Teas. Although there should be...
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
In September (of 08') I was unsure if getting my college degree was ever worth my time, especially considering the direction my life was heading in. Now it's February (of 09') and I've made the executive and fruitless decision that my college degree has become obsolete. I say it's fruitless because I can't really go back in time and not go to college. Of course, as I mentioned in part I, banging an "unspeakable" number of sorority girls and having the time of my life during college was awesome. In terms of my adult life though (if you can call it an "adult life"), the degree don't mean shit no more. See I can't even grammertize my words right.
I'm fairly sure that the only thing my college degree is good for now is when I'm bartending and people ask, "So, do you go to VCU/college?" or "Are you planning on going to school?" (Which is a frequent question for almost every bartender alive.) I can be like, "Well asshole, I graduated college in 2004 and I'm bartending full-time because I like the freedom of it." I generally don't say asshole, although you can rest assured that I'm thinking it.
Socially I can riff on pop culture, politics, local news and anything else better than most, but to say that college made me book or street smart would be foolish. Those things came because of who I am, not because of an institution. I work with people who have college degrees and trust me when I say, a college degree does not make anyone easier to speak with or smarter than someone who doesn't have a degree. Unless you're going into a specialized field where specific knowledge is required (medicine, engineer, etc), a degree will really only take a person as far as they're inherently capable of going. As Eric Clapton said, "It's in the way that you use it." Not to say that luck doesn't play a large factor in some people's success, because obviously we've all met people who have a lot through neither hard work nor smarts.
Ultimately, if I could go back in time I would go to college again and if I knew what I know now, I would've stayed for about 9 years. The "unspeakable" number of sorority girls would then be more like, the "sickening" number or "multiple STD's accrued" number.
That aside, I'd say there's just a small possibility that I'll ever need my college degree again. The service industry appears to be in my future and if that fails, I'll find another job where ridiculous office jargon such as "Hyper-tasking", "Action-item" and "Triangulate" will never be used.
Hell, I'm not even sure where my college degree is. In a landfill somewhere? There's probably some hobo out there trading on my name, which at this point could only land him an assistant barista job at Starbucks... maybe.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Recently I returned with a girl to her apartment after a work shift. It was about 3:30 AM. Details about the girl or the situation are insignificant. Suffice to say, we were not going back to her place to discuss the merits of the proposed smoking ban, or to well, discuss much of anything.
We entered her place and she began giving me a tour. The last stop on the tour was the balcony. As we stepped out we heard the blood curdling scream of a cat. This was not just a cat meowing really loud, this was a cat that was in some sort of pain. I then saw some movement in the pine trees directly across from the balcony and I came to realize that not one, but two cats were caught at the very top of the tree (about 25 feet in the air), and that the two cats were fighting. Mind you this was not your usual cat play-fighting, this was a to the death, gladiator style mauling. I think it probably stemmed from a monetary dispute between the two.
The girl immediately runs inside and I instinctively backed up to the door because the trees are somewhat close to the balcony and I'm not trying to referee a fight between these two nutty felines. After a minute I think the cats realized the predicament they were in because they stopped fighting and they just started holding on for dear life as the wind started to sway this medium-sized pine tree back and forth. I was at the same time completely repulsed and completely fascinated with these cats. I should also mention that I hate cats with a (mostly) unexplainable passion. Something to do with ex-girlfriends, cats jumping on my face at 5 AM every morning, me threatening to dump multiple girls if they didn't leave the f-in cat outside of the bedroom for the night, etc.
So I went back into the apartment and weighed my options. I thought, well in the movies they have to have a fireman get cats out of trees so maybe I should contact 911, but then I thought, it's fucking 3:30 AM, they'll laugh if I call them about this. Well if one of the cats dies from the fight then it will just fall out of the tree, but then I really started percolating and I convinced myself that the cats were just re-enacting the elaborate tree fight scene from "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon". Yes, this must be the case. Either way, I needed to get cats off the brain, or at least get the mammal and/or Broadway play version of "Cats" off the brain. (Insert inappropriate "kitty" or "pussy" joke here.)
The girl I was with decided to turn a blind eye and continue on with whatever it was we were about to do. I put up no argument with this decision.
After we were done I immediately went to check on the cats and there was nothing. Somehow these cats had gotten down from a 25 foot high tree, probably still fighting the whole way and now they were both back enjoying a cold milk at their crib. Of course the logical, real world explanation is that they both fell out of the tree and either one or both of their bodies were now strewn about somewhere in the grass.
...And I sure the hell wasn't going to be the one to find that murder scene.
Go check it out: Robot Hearts # 7.
Also, read the ad for the Robot Heart's V-Day Happy Hour below. For you guys, there will be women and vice versa. Couples are also welcome to come down and enjoy themselves, although us lonely-hearted will be surly and drunk, so don't be making out in front of us. Lest you like getting mushed in the face with a bowl of cold salsa. I kid, I kid. There will be no salsa face mushings, hopefully.
Come one, come all. Introduce yourself to me and pick a heart from the "Robot Box". I'm being told that each heart is some sort of free prize.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Me thinking at 3:15 AM: "Well, if I rub one out quickly then it'll only be 3:30 AM and I'll still have time to blog and get in some reading, but it also could wear me out and I might fall asleep, so maybe I should blog first and then masturbate, but then my head will be thinking about masturbating and not about what I'm writing. Damn, what should I do?"
I actually had this conversation with myself tonight.
-- Since we're on the topic of masturbation, I thought that the absolute pinnacle of my masturbation career was in early high school. I was a freakin machine back then. But recently (the past two years) I've really been picking up steam. You could call it a "mid-twenties masturbation renaissance". Or maybe it has something to do with the ridiculously accessible and free porn sites I live on now a days. I'm big on Pornhub.com at the moment. It's sad... I know.
-- A fascinating article in the NY Times online edition yesterday about Nazi Doctor Aribert Heim, or "Dr.Death" as he is known to most. The article focuses on Heim's postwar life and his evasion of Nazi Hunters until his death in 1992. What's incredible is that this tall, strikingly handsome German man, who once injected gasoline into the hearts of patients and kept Jewish prisoner's skulls as souvenirs, converted to Islam and seemingly became a normal, decent human being after committing countless atrocities . I don't condone any of his actions, but his story is riveting.
-- I'm going to see Taken tomorrow. Liam Neeson is a bad man. I'll fight Jason Bourne and Jack Bauer before I'm throwing down with Liam. You don't automatically think Liam Neeson when you think of actors who can carry a movie on their own, but the guy has done it before in a major way... Schindler's List ring a bell?
-- A blog reader and bar patron made me promise to blog tonight so she would have something to read when she got into work tomorrow. I figured she could enjoy my masturbation thoughts over her morning coffee.
...I sures do gots a way with the ladies.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
I'm probably the king of making hungover, completely false, grand declarations of impending sobriety.
"So, you drinking again tonight Jack?"
" Nah man. I'm taking the next few nights off, Friday included. I need to get back in the business of being "me",
Then comes Friday and the same person will run into me at a bar, a lit cigarette in my mouth, one unlit cigarette in the ashtray, two half-finished orange crushes on the table, a full Coors Light in one hand and a rocks glass with some conspicuously brownish colored melted ice at the bottom in my other hand, saying something along the lines of, "Hey there smegggillibrushhh, comeeeanghettta a shot wit meh!"
Then the next morning it's all, "Fuck, this is fucking it! No more Jack. Grab the bull by the horns and lock it up! Time to clean up big guy."
It's a vicious twenty-something cycle that I'm sure a good 50 percent of us go through.
I say this as I'm taking a self-imposed exile at my step-dad's river house for the night. A particularly nasty bender this past weekend (notice the lack of posting and the "deleted" post from Friday) has put me firmly on the water wagon. It's all gym time and healthy eating for a few weeks. I'm looking out for numero uno. Gonna clear my head and write and use the rare few hours that I'm not bar tending to be productive. No more sleeping 12 hours a day. This is the turning point! This is the first day of the rest of my life!
Although I do have off Friday night. I mean, I guess one or two happy hour cocktails wouldn't kill me.... Right? I can go home early and sober on a Friday...
Yeah, uhh, not even in my wildest dreams is that possible.