Punch Drunk # 19

Watching the NCAA Tourney and getting hammercanned. This is what I wrote about this week in our local alternative paper, Style Weekly. Also check at the end for an update on our new Governor's proposed plan to privatize ABC.

Go read it here, or hit the street and find a print copy.

The Saloon-Keep

"In Nevada, for a time, the lawyer, the editor, the banker, the chief desperado, the chief gambler, and the saloon-keeper occupied the same level of society, and it was the highest."

- Stolen from Mixologist Jeff's blog, who stole it from Mark Twain (who even though a literary giant, could not find the time to create his own personal blog, hence the lack of a link.)

I agree with this statement. As an avid, some would say problematic gambler and a full-time barkeep, I am without a doubt, firmly ensconced in the highest rung of society. That is if today's society had no laws, everyone carried guns and heavy drinking was celebrated in lieu of being frowned upon.

I really think I would've kicked ass back in the Old West. Or as a pirate.

*Me at 35. I blame the Rumpleminze.

The Real Life Nutzy

You want a reason to start cheering for Richmond's new Double-A baseball team "The Flying Squirrels"?

I bartended for their top dog the other day. Officially he is the team's VP/COO, unofficially he's the man and his name is "Parney".

The word on the streets was that The Squirrels were a different organization, one that embraced wacky ideas and one that was willing to challenge the status quo of stodgy, non fan-friendly minor league baseball teams. This word is the truth.

From witnessing Parney dance on the bar (half-shirtless) as we bumped out 80's big hair metal to his obvious penchant for women and whiskey, it's clear that this guy is going to give Richmond one hell of a baseball season. He seemed more WWE promoter than business man, which makes sense when your team mascot's name is "Nutzy".

Previously in Style Weekly I had offered the Squirrels some ideas on how to get people out to games:

For Richmond’s new baseball team, the Flying Squirrels: Resolve to put butts in the seats at any cost. My suggestions: Nickel beer night (every night). Serve real squirrels at concessions: grilled, fried, raw, squirrel on a stick. And the always fun Squirrel Hunt Saturdays: BB guns in the bleachers + squirrels on the field = family fun.

Parney said he had read it and that he might consider them. I told you this guy was of a different breed.

So now I've brokered a deal with him that involves a ticket or two in exchange for the occasional text message notifying him if any groups of beautiful women walk into my bar.

That, I can do. Go Squirrels!

Tough As Nails

To the casual observer this may look like a still from The Godfather. Don't let it fool you though. This is actually myself and NBC12's legendary newsman Gene Cox. For those of you non-Richmonders, Gene Cox is our local Kent Brockman/Ron Burgundy/Tom Tucker. Full Discloser: I offered to buy Mr.Cox a shot. He politely declined.

Slutty Hot

I'd seen her in the bar about a hundred times. A shock of blond hair. A perversely beautiful face not out of a catalogue, but closer to the Pam Anderson mold. A body fit for the pages of Maxim. I believe the term I'm looking for is "slutty-hot". The type of girl you fantasize about slapping in the face during coitus, but never taking on a date.

She was always in the bar with some random guy or another whose faces I now couldn't recognize if my life depended on it. She was always drinking heavily. Whispers and rumors abounded that during the evening hours she made her money as a stripper. It wasn't hard to believe.

She always shot those "fuck-me" eyes when I served up her Pinot Noir. Eyes that she no doubt had shot many a men in her life. If she wasn't making out and groping the dude she was with then she was probably getting hammered and yelling at someone. Sometimes she had girlfriends with her who were worse. A few times I had to ask her to leave.

I noticed her sit down at the bar a few days ago. She had a girlfriend with her this time. After shots and a few glasses of wine it became apparent that her friend had had enough. I stopped serving the friend but continued to pour wine for the stripper. The stripper rumors being confirmed long ago.

Eventually her intoxicated friend started mouthing off to some other girl in the bar. Slurring and screaming, "I'll fuck you up bitch!" and "You don't know who I am do you?!" It was time for them to go.

I started to remove the two and that's when I noticed it. The unmistakable stomach bump of impending birth. The stripper was noticeably pregnant. We're talking nearing third trimester pregnant.

I wasn't able to discern this while she was sitting at the bar.

My other bartender pontificated that maybe she had just been drinking to much and that it was nothing more than a beer gut. After further inquiries we came to find that it was no beer gut.

Fascinated and disappointed at the same time, I watched as she stood out on the sidewalk in front of the bar, smoking a cigarette and clearly drunk from the wine. Hand on her hip, belly protruding, limbs and neckline still firm.

I knew I wasn't to blame. If I asked every woman with a gut if she was pregnant I'd be dead by now. But still, it made me realize something.

"Slutty-hot" girls are never to be trusted. Ever. Poop on the slutty-hot girls chest if you want, but only marry the non-slutty-hot girl from next door.

Oh and condoms. For fucks sake if you're going to fuck a stripper, wear a condom!

Healthcare Reform Affects Me!

So the health care bill passed the House Of Representatives and hark the herald angels sing, people without health insurance are now provided coverage! I'm not attempting to understand health care or health care reform. I already pay a c-note+ each month for coverage that probably wouldn't even defer the Patient First bills that come with a rough case of poison ivy. The only part that actually caught my attention was the final minute wheeling and dealing that ensured that federal money could not be used for abortions, which apparently was the selling point for a few on the fence Congressmen and helped to finalize the bill.

Listen, social reform is just the tits. I'm perfectly fine with helping people to advance themselves. But we missed a key point here America: By not providing abortion coverage, Obama and the Dems have forgotten about an important segment of our society...

They forgot about the crackwhores who take on un-condomed penises for crack.

Brace yourselves, but there is a large segment of the crackhead community that does not require the "crack-supplier" to wear a condom during the "crack-purchasing" stage.

If anything the passing of this health care bill is only encouraging back-alley abortions by crackhead pregnant women, and while cost-effective, back-alley abortions are simply not safe. Also by allowing crackhoes to procreate we allow inferior children to enter the world, children that were not privy to non-crackhead mothers. With this there's a snowball effect of taxpayer spending that involves extra-schooling, medical care, rehabilitation, etc. Not to mention the poor young child's insatiable blood lust for crack.

Finding the "rock", trading sexual acts in the back seat of a Ford Taurus in exchange for it, then finding paraphernalia with which to freebase said "rock" is hard enough. Let's cut these ladies some slack when it comes to disposing of a fetus that surely has already been riddled with drugs and various other sexually transmitted ailments.

I've never given a blow job for crack, but they have and god willing, they will give many more for a taste of that sweet sweet white jellybean. Do me a favor: Call your congressman today. Fight the power.

Digestif Article and Punch Drunk # 18

This week Style Weekly released their annual "State Of The Plate" issue concerning local restaurants and local restaurant trends. For the "State" issue I did a long article on the resurgence of digestifs and it included a bar crawl I conducted in search of the cities best after-dinner drinks. I also had my usual boozy "Punch Drunk" column which was about a recent night at the Virginia Wine Expo.

"Letting It Linger: Slow Sips In Search For The Timeless Digestif" - click here for the online version.

"Punch Drunk: Spit And Polish" - click here for the online version.

NBC 12 Restaurant Report from Thursday 3/18 featuring Style Weekly and myself. - here

We Shall Fight On The Beaches

*This is a real-life picture of me bartending. Take the people in front of me at the bar and multiple them by 100 and you can see what tomorrow will be like for me.

The day of reckoning is upon us men. We've been training for this moment our entire lives and we will not fail. We will stoically make Irish Car Bombs. We will not flinch when asked for 15 pints of Guinness. We will drop green food coloring in our kegs to make the Miller Lite more festive! Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that if the Commonwealth of Virginia and its best bar last for a thousand years, men will still say, 'This was their finest hour.'

Bring it on St. Patrick's Day.

The Streets Will Flow Green With Blood

"Oh ye streets of Richemonde will flow bileesh green with the regurg of soused reveleres come Saturday, from the heights of Oregon Hille down ye Carie St. to the vomitorium of Shamrock ye Block in the bottome. Fisticuffs will spill the blood of many patriots and ye paddy wagonne will overflow with drunken idiotes. Ye womanfolk will be gropped, ye Nissane Altima will be driven wrecklessly through the streets. How I pray to Ol' Saint Patrick for no one to bash my head with ye container of Bud Light." - Some Mick Bartender.

St.Patricks Day is next Wednesday and the official celebration is this Saturday. I will be cowering in fear behind the bar on both of these days. Pray to the Boondock Saints for me on Saturday as I clean vomit off the bar from the crack of 12 PM until last call at 2 AM.

Last year I gave Richmonders and RVANEWS some humorous tips for St. Pat's Day and a list of Richmond bars to get crunked-up at. Check it out here: http://rvanews.com/seasonal/jacks-st-patricks-day-pub-crawl

Ye money I make will pay all of my bills so I sort of look forward to the intensity that is bartending on St.Pats, plus I can always slip away for an Irish Car Bomb or six.

Sunday Strikes Again

What do the entire Yale Men's Lacrosse team, an ER visit for 13 ass-cheek stitches, a guy in a Captain Planet suit and enough booze (and vomit) to float a yacht have in common? If you guessed Gay Porno Night at The Cockpit you would be wrong. This was my bar on Sunday night.

Sure it may not sound like fun, but trust me, there is a reason why Sunday is the crown jewel of drinking days.

The stitches had nothing to do with sodomy either.

Welcome to college. Here's your stick, here's your elbow pads, and here's your one get out of jail free after raping a black stripper card. Use it wisely.

Punch Drunk # 17

New Punch Drunk out in Style Weekly today. This week I discussed my recent trip to Atlantic City and introduced Virginia to a new Vodka that recently became available. Check it out here or pick up a print copy.