Joe Biden Whips It Out

I just checked my mail and in the stupid little box was a circular promoting Robbie Perkins for mayor of Greensboro. On one side of this piece of propaganda is a glossy photo of Mr Perkins, looking very Nixon-esque - all smarmy and crooky. The fake smile on his strange face is hard to look at for more than a few seconds - it's scary & nauseating at the same time. The other side of the little leaflet type mailer has some words written on it. I guess the words are supposed to be reasons to motivate me to get off my ass on Election Day and vote for Mr Perkins. However, the words are not gonna motivate me to do anything on Election Day other than sit around wondering what the hell to watch without the NBA on television (and I was gonna do that anyway...). I'm very concerned about why I received this flyer in the mail. How did the Perkins campaign get my name??? I'm gonna contact them and ask. That's for damn sure. I don't vote. Voting is a useless waste of time. Why would they even bother to send me mail in the 1st place??? This Robbie Perkins guy is pushing it here. Don't send me mail if I don't know you. It's uncool and downright un-American.

The Rhino Times had an issue out recently in which they claimed to have been publishing their little free paper for 20 years. I have no idea if that's true or not. And I don't particularly care either. But one part of this supposed anniversary issue caught my eye. They ran a copy of what they purported to be their 1st issue in 1991. It was like 2 pages long. I read most of it. I really did. And it reminded me of something you'd see being passed out at a rally for retard rights - pointless, poorly written, and insulting. The Rhino has certainly come a long way over 20 years. Now they have like 60 pages in an issue. They run opinion pieces by Scotty Card and Scotty Roast - and those tend to be pointless, poorly written, inane, silly, sophomoric, vapid, and generally unreadably crappy. I do like the news articles in the Rhino. They are actually informative as hell. So there's that. And they do have the NY Times Crossword - I like that too, as it passes the time. Happy Birthday, Rhino!!! Keep up the mediocre work.

Speaking of birthdays, I had one myself the other day. I somehow managed to make it to 41. That's astounding. I can tell I'm getting old because I'm having a harder and harder time seeing things up close. The last time I was at the damn optometrist, my man Dr Cotter informed me I'm gonna need autofocal (that may not be the exact term old Dr Cotter used) lenses soon. Damn aging. It sucks. If I could just run into that chick from Flirting With Disaster somewhere, all this tedious aging shit would be worth it...

Someone left a note on this dumb blog asking me about how things have been going in Durham (I'm working over there, at my real fake job, until Thanksgiving). And I don't have anything new to say about Durham that I haven't said before on this unbelievably stupid blog. Durham is awful. The people smell. The roads suck. Duke is full of pretentious gasbags. And the whole city is a big garbage dump. It's worse than Kabul. Way worse. As far as the work at my real fake job, it's okay. Silly, but okay.

Speaking of people smelling, hippies smell. They really do. Some hippie types have been camping out downtown to protest something (maybe Robbie Perkins). I think they are calling it Occupy Greensboro. I know nothing about these people. But there's one thing I am certain of about this angry mob - they smell. Hippies always smell. They fucking smell. I'm gonna be downtown in about an hour for GamePlan at Stumbles, and I'm gonna walk across W Market St to see these occupiers for myself (if they're still occupying). But I won't be able to stick around long. Because they will smell terrible. They're hippies. Hippies smell. Are you getting my drift???

My man Joe Biden & his massively erect & medically induced boner have been back in the news. Mr Biden was at some function and claimed that if Barry's sad little jobs bill didn't get passed by congress that more women will be raped. And believe it or not, I get Joe's point here. If you think about it, his point makes perfect sense. Here's how - without more wasteful spending endlessly being thrown down the pisser in DC, men will get so angry and sexually frustrated that they'll be compelled to resort to rape to get their fill of the old ripe hole. It stands to reason. I'm with Biden on this one. Well thought out there, Joey B.

I know no shame

Doing The Furniture Market

Someone requested this, so here it is, or as they say say on Maury, here it be. I walked into this huge furniture showroom Saturday afternoon about 4. Here in the triad, in High Point, NC to be exact, they have this giant furniture market twice a year where furniture fetishists from around the globe descend to wheel and deal in the dark world of ottomans and teak bed frames. I had never been to the thing before myself. But I had the opportunity to make a few bucks at yet another fake fake job at this furniture market deal. I was handing out free beer and wine by this escalator. And I gotta tell you, I was very popular as a result. In 2 & 1/2 hours I opened 30 bottles of wine and passed out at least 100 beers. These furniture folks like to get a little toasty while leering at the latest designs in throw rugs and shitty wall art. Of particular interest to this disinterested observer was the crowd out at this event. It broke into 2 groups, 1) drunk women between 25 and 55, and 2) gay dudes from around the globe. I had to have met gay fellas from at least a dozen countries. I liked the drunk women a whole lot more. Why, you may ask? They tipped better. Way better. I don't know what it is about gay foreign furniture freaks, but they were much stingier with their wadded up bills than the drunk ladies. Hell, one drunk furniture maven kept handing me $10 bills for filling up a cheap plastic cup with some red wine. I was a huge fan. Also of note at this event is that the jittery kid who spilled a salad on a dude's shoulder at a wedding rehearsal dinner back in June (I blogged about it then) was out doing the barback work. He was running all over this huge showroom bringing wine and beer to 4 bartenders as fast as possible. And I think the kid has found his calling. He did a really good job. It's a little sad that he found his niche so late in life (I believe the kid is in his mid 50s). Most barbacks discover their talent to drop off beer and wine when they're like 16. But I applaud the jittery kid who dropped a Greek salad on some dude's shoulder - better late than never. I even told the guy how impressed I was. I said, " Mark, if you need a reference for a barback job, feel free to use the name of someone here. Not me of course, but someone. You've obviously found your niche." He replied, "Don't patronize me." I was impressed that the kid knew the word patronized. And I told him so. He thought I was patronizing him again by telling him how impressed I was that he knew the word patronize. You con't win with guys like that. I go and try and do something nice and this is the thanks I get...

On a dissimilar note, I sat there at the infamous Kickin Chicken yesterday and watched the entire Dolphin/Denver game (I had a big interest in the Broncos covering -2.) Anyway, I just wanna be clear about this for folks who did not watch the whole game or just saw highlights. Tim Tebow was atrocious. In the 1st three quarters he threw like a girl. Everyone at the back bar, including the Denver fans, were laughing out loud at the kid. It was comical. Now the Broncos did pull out the win in OT. That was due to his receivers making some great catches and Miami playing a semi-prevent defense. It's hard to credit Tebow much at all for Miami's epic collapse and bad coaching decisions. Overall Tebow was Ken Dorsey bad. Terrible. Putrid. Awful. He has to get better. He can't play worse. He can't possibly play worse. Can he???

Someone asked me if I was planning to see the new movie version of The 3 Musketeers that is in theaters. I didn't honestly know there was a new, and I'm sure needless, version of the book on film. I simply mumbled something about candy bars in reply...

Larry Gives Me $$$

I was out at Sloppys the other night, sitting at the bar with Brandon, watching Game 2 of the Fall Classic. And there was this old, drunk, and gay guy in there named Larry. Brandon has been telling me for months that this old drunk hands him random amounts of cash for no apparent reason. I've warned Brandon about taking the guy's money. You gotta figure that at some point this Larry will want something in return for all the cash he's doled out. I have no idea what his agenda might be. But it may be unsavory to say the least. Anyway, I spoke to Larry a little bit myself outside smoking. And he seemed drunk and harmless. I was pleasant to him and all. Well, about 10:30 or so Larry stumbles over to where Brandon & I are sitting. And sure enough, Larry hands Brandon some money. Then Larry hands me some money. He did it so quickly and innocuously that all I could think to say was "thanks." So, now I'm involved with getting cash from old, drunk, and gay Larry. Although I'm not too sure what he could possibly expect from me for a measly $12...

I was flipping around the old TV the other night and came across this show called Revenge. I had no idea what the hell was going on. And no one seemed especially vengeful to me. A little pissy maybe, but not vengeful...

Barry Comes To Greensboro

My newest hero, one Vladimir Grammer, has posted something new on the Faceshit. This time it was a succinct plea to Luke of Jacoby fame. Vladimir begged Luke to "hit him up on chat at like 8:00 sunday night." I have used the Faceshit chat function a time or two over the years, and I guess it's useful and all for something. But I am left to speculate what exactly Vladimir wanted to chat with Luke about at 8 o'clock last night??? Maybe crappy stoneware??? Crappy music??? Bible stories??? Advice for how to properly woo ladies??? I have no idea. But I do care. I really do. And yes, I hit the "Like" button all over Vladimir's most recent Faceshit pleas. The kid's gotta wonder who the hell I am & why I like everything he posts. Also, of interest to maybe only me is the fact that Vladimir claims he is now in a "relationship" with a girl who looks like a retarded version of Christina Ricci. Let's just say the picture this girl posted isn't particularly flattering. The thing that strikes me most about this chic is her harelip. It's not especially fetching...

Our epic failure of a leader, our buddy Barry, is going to grace Greensboro with his presence later today. I don't think he's here to give a speech or anything. I think he's here to raise money for his reelection bid. He'll probably be out at the Grandover or something - gland handing with wealthy liberals. I have no idea. But at this point, you have to wonder why Barry wants to keep doing this job he's so obviously terrible at. Wouldn't it make more sense for him to say, "Hey, I was a disaster. My bad. Let's give someone else a chance to be a disaster." But no, Barry wants to be a disaster for 4 more years. I guess if you are power hungry, you don't wanna give it up no matter how shitty a job you've done wielding your power. If Barry were a pitcher in his beloved White Sox organization, he certainly wouldn't be with the big league club at this point. He'd have been sent back down to the minors to get more seasoning or work on his control issues. Hell, at this point Barry would be riding a bus around Alabama with Mike Jordan...

I just looked up what Barry is ostensibly in the area for. And supposedly it is to push for some dead-on-arrival jobs bill he wants passed by congress. That is just laughably silly. He's campaigning. If you believe the latest polls Barry is losing to Mitt Romney. That's right, a terrible candidate is beating Barry at the moment. A Mormon no less. I would really enjoy a Barry/Romney battle next year. They could bill this clash of losers as The Muslim vs The Mormon. I won't pay any attention to it. It's too damn depressing...

Speaking of politics, several folks have asked me what I think of some brother named Herman Cain. Here's what I think of Herman Cain - he's not a real candidate. He's selling a book. Instead of paying to do a book tour, Cain is getting all sorts of free publicity as he goes on every imaginable talk show to hype his fake candidacy. He seems like a nice enough cat and all. Don't get me wrong. But please don't waste any time or energy considering that Cain is remotely interested in being our next fake leader. He's not.

Other folks have asked me about Cain's plan to put a national sales tax in place and lower income tax rates. I'm all for it. I love recessive taxation. But it won't happen. Move on...

I was out at Wing Joint last Friday night and I'm sitting there chatting with this acquaintance of mine Joe for several hours. At one point Joe was encouraging me to hit on a young lady. I kept saying, "What's stopping you from hitting on her?" Joe said, "I don't have your charm." And if that's true, what a sad commentary on Joe's charm. I have no charm. I'm charmless. I have no idea why anyone would ever talk to me. It's baffling...

I was working yet another of my fake fake jobs on Saturday (I missed GamePlan, which is very rare). At this fake fake job I was bartending some wedding reception way out west of Lake Norman in the Charlotte area. It was fine and all. Blah, blah, blah. However, toward the end of the function one of the many drunk women (me and my buddy Jay poured at least 150 glasses of wine that night) decided to talk my ear off about the cost of being a bridesmaid. This woman had a horse-face by the way. Anyway, this drunk chick informed me that she'd been a bridesmaid at 2 weddings in the past month or so and the cost was outrageous. Between the 2 dresses she had to buy, the gifts for the bachelorette parties, and travel costs here and there; she said the total ran to well over $1000. I asked her if she considered saying no to either bride who asked her to be a bridesmaid. She looked at me like I was mentioning something that had never crossed her mind. She said, in a slurry voice, "You don't do that. If a friend asks, you just say yes." I never knew that. One big bonus of being aloof, self-centered, and narcissistic is that you never get asked to be a groomsman. Hell, I haven't even been invited to a wedding in almost 20 years. I'm the last person you'd want at your wedding. God knows what I'd say to some old bag or other. Maybe, "Are you wearing crotchless panties for the occasion?" Something like that. Obviously.

I did get out yesterday for Sunday Ticket at the infamous Kickin Chicken. Brandon and I would occasionally go out to the patio area to smoke. Well, there was this about 4 year-old little boy wandering around seemingly unsupervised for minutes on end. I was a little concerned for the kid. Who would bring a 4 year-old to Sunday Ticket??? And then let him aimlessly walk around the hundreds of degenerates getting drunk and rooting for Washington or Pittsburgh??? I almost got one of the managers to try and help this poor little kid. But sure enough, after about a half-hour of walking around lost amid the smokers and Cam Newton lovers, this little kid's Dad swoops in and scoops him up. Then scolds him. This guy scolded a 4 year-old after not watching out for him for 30 plus minutes. What a terrible father. Brandon & I just looked at each other. I said, "What a jackass. It figures he's here pulling for Mike Vick..." Brandon laughed.

Okay, this post is over...

Creech Knows Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Flavors

I wasn't gonna post anything on this stupid and unreadable blog today. I was doing a little work earlier (one of my fake fake jobs, not my real fake job), glanced at my phone, noticed a text from Geilfuss and then went ahead and read the damn text. In it, Geilfuss informed me that Creech and Creech's roommates played trivia last night somewhere in the Charm City and got 1 question right. That's right, 1. I immediately texted Geilfuss back inquiring of the only thing I would ever think to inquire of when informed of such news. That is, I needed to know what the question was that Creech and his roomies got right. Geilfuss got right back to me and let me know that Creech got "A question about Ben and Jerrys ice cream. The answer was moosetracks. According to Creech he 'nailed it.'" There you go. Creech knows about moose tracks. And that stands to reason, seeing as how the kid has a bit of gut. If the trivia MC had just asked a few questions about pecker tracks during the game, Creech and his buds would have no doubt been "nailing" those too. If there are two things Creech knows, they are moose tracks ice cream and pecker tracks. For those of you who don't know Creech (be thankful for one thing) he is the kid who went to play poker at the Jacobys on a Sunday night back in December 2008. During the course of the poker game, the Jacobys collected money for pizza. Creech did not chip in any money at all for the pizza. When the pizza arrived, Creech ate several slices of the pizza that he didn't chip in for. Later, the Jacobys realized they had collected too much money for pizza. So, they walked around and offered a dollar back to everyone. Almost no one took a dollar back from them. Creech however, took a dollar back from them. So, Creech eats pizza he doesn't pay for and walks out of the place with an extra buck in his pocket to boot. That's Creech. I hadn't seen the kid in almost 3 years until last Thursday night when he comes strolling into the Wrecker patio like Big Daddy from that Tennessee Williams play. He starts buying shots like a sailor on leave for the weekend. Then talks to some unlucky girl for an hour or more. Creech spoke to me some, but I have no idea what he was telling me. Years ago, I found it pointless to listen to a word the kid said. Why, you may be wondering??? Because Creech is an idiot. He did get a question right at trivia about moose tracks ice cream though. No one can ever take that away from him.

Speaking of texts from Geilfuss, I got one during last week's MNF tilt between the Colts & City of Tampa. Here's what it said: Curtis Painter kinda looks like Jane Brady. Well, I guess Jane is the lost Brady sister who no one ever saw on the show. But at least now we know that this Jane Brady looks like Curt Painter. Important discovery...

Speaking of texts, Brandon sent me one last Friday that said this: There is a pianist at Sloppys right now. That was shocking and disturbing news, as I'm guessing the folks at Sloppys would have as much appreciation for piano music as they would for a reading by Shakespeare himself...

I got one other fascinating text recently. This one was from an old colleague of mine from my days toiling away in that building across from 1st Mariner Arena in the Mob City. It was as follows: Is it loitering if you hang out in a cemetery? Luckily for Beth, I knew the answer. So I texted this back to her: It depends how many 40's you've drank.

A Trip To The Town Elaine Benes Is From

I wandered into the Patrick Bateman's for trivia (playing with Nana's Crew - alas, we came in 2nd) in the town Elaine Benes is from last Thursday evening just after 8 and what do you know, I ran into one of the Greek Gods. The short Greek God - I couldn't tell you the kid's name to save my life. This tinier Greek God quickly informed me that he'd gotten hitched a few months back. And I was nice. I didn't mock the kid, at least not at first. In fact, I congratulated him on his exciting news. He was sitting at a round table with non-Greek God trivia players and informed me that he and the fatter Greek God had hooked on with another trivia team and done the old merging deal to be more competitive in the sordid world of team trivia. I have no idea if it's working for them. The thing about this team the Greek Gods have merged with is this - they are enormous people (and considerably homely I might add). 3 of the folks who the Greek Gods have merged with are ladies - big, repulsively ugly, Beck-worthy ladies. After congratulating this short Greek God on his marriage deal and then meeting and looking over this new trivia team he's playing with, I asked the kid this, "Which of these fat chicks sitting here did you marry?" I walked away quickly at that point.

I was killing time last Friday afternoon/early evening at the Charred Pork Bucket up near Luther Campbellville. When I got there about 3:30 there were 4 ladies to my right enjoying a couple of end-of-the-week drinks. They were nurses of some stripe or other. I overheard them talking about crack houses and bad neighbors. So I started chiming in with many scatological comments (as I always do in those situations). No one seemed offended. To the contrary, they were laughing it up. One nurse in particular was laughing it up - too much as a matter of fact. And having experienced this kind of behavior from time to time from lonely, single, nurse types, I knew what was coming at some point. That is - the one laughing too hard was gonna hit on me. And she wasn't bad looking or anything, but I wasn't in the Charred Pork Bucket to meet single nurses. I was there to pregame (slowly get some beers in me before the night really starts). At one point, as I was returning from the ever so clean men's room in the joint (it always smells like a nursing home in there), I overheard these ladies talking about how much someone looked like that actor from the movie In Good Company (not Topher Grace). And I knew right away what was going down. These nurses were discussing how much I resembled old Dennis Quaid. When they informed me of what they'd been discussing, I thanked them and gave my same old joke about, "Well, at least you're not comparing me to Randy Quaid." All very self-deprecating on my part. Blah, blah, blah. After an hour or so of more silly talk about meth-heads, enemas, and handjobs these nurses started to file out. And you guessed it, the last one sitting there of the quartet was the one laughing too hard at my purely juvenile and inane comments. She sat there for about 15 minutes, waiting in vain for me to hit on her, and finally took off. I escaped unscathed yet again.

The reason I stuck around the old Charred Pork Bucket last Friday was because I was waiting for the Jacobys to show up. When they did turn up, we got to goofing around with Luke's little IPhone deal and the Faceshit application on it. Well, I had him give me the Iphone and then proceeded to go onto random pages of Luke's friends. What I started doing his hitting the "Like" button on every post I could get to. For example - So and so is going biking Sunday - Luke likes this! Pray for my mother, she's got the crabs - Luke likes this! Please listen to my favorite song - Luke likes this! That went on for several minutes. When Luke figured out what I was doing, he and his brother Mark started laughing uncontrollably. Then I started laughing uncontrollably. I kept saying, "Luke likes this!" It was utterly stupid.

Speaking of Luke Jacoby's Faceshit page, I was scrolling through it over the weekend and came across a friend of his. A kid named Vladimir Grammer. Now, keep in mind that I'm sure Vladimir is a sweet kid. Luke told me he's a college student with way overprotective parents (they won't let him on the Internet unsupervised, for instance). Well, I started hitting the "Like" button for every post the kid had written. Here are two notable examples: 1) Hello my friend hws yous doing. Work hectic probably yeah I can't wait til we chill. 2) Hello sir sorry I beat you to the punch on Facebook but I wanted to get you as a frined as soon as I could impatient I know but post stuff on my wall I don't mind it can be anything and best to you at the Maryland Historical Society. Now, old Vladimir's last name is Grammer. Yet, his spelling is not the greatest & he never met a run-on sentence he didn't like. Also, his favorite TV show is Wipeout! I think the kid is my new hero. I tried in vain to get Luke to get Vladimir out to trivia Monday night. I very badly wanted to meet the kid. Maybe next time. I'm desperate to get to know the grammatical genius that is Vladimir Grammer. I really am. I mean that sincerely as all hell.

Later last Friday night, the Jacobys, Jeff, & I were out at the awful Bananabees on Padonia Rd for yet another terrible and spirited game of Final Score Trivia. We had a good time. We played very well. In fact, going into the last question we were up 6 points on 2nd place. There were 17 teams out playing. Well, considering none of us had been in the bar in over 2 years to play the game, there were several teams that went up to the host and complained that we had to be cheating. The host is a young kid who I've dealt with before at Bananabees (he's the kid I went up and asked, "Who is this Ana Graham you speak of?" back in 2009). Well, this host informed one of the losers who accused us of cheating that he's seen us around trivia games for years and that it was no fluke that we were kicking ass. Anyway, after the final question was over and we received our stupid little Bananabees gift certificate, I walked up to the booth where the guy who most loudly accused us of cheating was sitting with his pitiful running buddy. I said, "You guys come in here often?" The one guy said, "We do." I threw the gift certificate down on their table and said, "There you go." We walked right out of that terrible Bananabees & drove straight to the cougar bar nearby on York Rd. Alas, the cougar bar was dead. Only 7-10 cougars were milling about, looking for a night of alcohol-fueled sex to ease the loneliness in their cougar existence. It was a little sad.

Saturday was pretty much a big shitfest, as Andy & I started watching football at 1:30 at the Wrecker. Needless to say, by the time the TOSU/Corn game started at 8, I was feeling it a bit. Anyway, I got to hang out with the Dan & Katie for a few hours and that was nice. You have to love the McGrains. At least I do. The Jacobys have been bugging me for years to take them to the den of inequity that is the Ramada on Loch Raven for Saturday night karaoke. Sue B and her crew hung out there like clockwork for years on end singing poorly and drinking too slowly (I've blogged about Saturdays at the Ramada on Loch Raven before, go back and read the posts to get a sense of how amazingly terrible it was). So, about 11 o'clock the 3 of us headed over there. When we walked in, it was like a different world. Instead of Sue B, her crew, various hookers, and random drug activity, we ran into about 200 black folks doing karaoke and socializing normally. It freaked me out. I said, "This has to be an alternate universe. This place is normal now." We quickly left, as without Sue B's crew and the old-time debauchery going on, there was nothing of interest for us to see there...

Sunday night I stopped in Get Bent Lounge for old time's sake for the night game between the ATL and the Cheese. And yes, George was there as always, driving me crazy with sports related queries. Luckily Geilfuss came in for the 2nd half and he & I chatted about this and that for the remainder of the game. And I can report that Geilfuss has indeed finished college and received his degree back in May. Congratulations to Geilfuss. As for Get Bent Lounge, it is so opposite of what is it was 2 &1/2 short years ago, that I can't see any reason to hang out there at all. None of my favorite bartenders work there any longer. No Pat. No Roland. No Graham. No Jess. Nobody. I did see Fat Adam ambling across York Rd at one point when I was out smoking. Let me report this - Fat Adam is still fat. And it looked like he may have changed his jeans that day...

On Monday night, we got a final game of trivia in at some joint called 7 Pest. Andy, Jeff, the Jacobys, and I really had a great game. We missed all of 2 questions I believe. The only thing that bugged me was missing a question on the year of the Great Chicago Fire. I did atone by properly putting some albums in order of their release dates on the final question. They also asked a Beavis & Butthead question at one point (new episodes start Oct 27th by the way). And that's too easy. Geilfuss came out after the trivia game & we hung out for a few more hours at Wrecker. It was nice.

After I got back into the Gate City yesterday, I texted Brandon that I made it back alive. He simply texted me back with this: No alcohol poisoning? Alas, the kid had a point...

On a final and serious note about my little visit up to the town Elaine Benes is from, last Friday afternoon I got a chance to visit with Mama Stills. And if you're not down with Mama Stills, I have zero time for you. She's been having a few health issues here recently and I just wanted to say that I wish her a speedy recovery. Godspeed to you, Kathy.

I am out.

Doing The Anti-Social Work

I was out yesterday at that wing place on N Garden watching a little of the old baseball action, when some heavy blonde chick from the Motor City sits down at the bar to my immediate right. She started complaining to the bartender Ginger about her day at work. Over the course of several minutes I gleaned that this heavy-set and barrel-chested blonde worked in the school system as some kind of counselor. She was going on about some little girl with cigarette burns on her ankles. I chimed in at that point and said "Well, when you start smoking at age 7 there's gonna be a trial and error period." She didn't laugh. Instead this Motown bombshell started talking about getting a social worker involved with the family of the little girl with cigarette burns on her ankles. I chimed in again, "I always wondered why there was no job called anti-social worker. That would be right up my alley." Alas, she failed to laugh yet again...

Later, for some inexplicable reason, I stumbled into Sloppys. There was some duo playing music. They were awful. Blah, blah, blah. Anyway, at one point I was coming back into the joint from smoking (and no, I didn't burn my ankle in the process) and this duo was between tunes. They were saying something about Mr T. I didn't catch the context. But I did yell out for them to play some Mr T Experience for me. Alas, they had no idea what the hell I was talking about. I really would have enjoyed this crummy duo trying to play the Mr T Experience's version of Can't Get There From Here by REM. That song is fucking awesome.

Moose & his crew were out at Sloppys as usual. They find me amusing for some reason. They tolerate my stupid and extremely esoteric ramblings. Whatever. Anyway, at one point Moose and I were out smoking with a group of guys and he started going on and on about a step-daughter of his and how strong she was (Moose is probably 60ish and this step-daughter would have to be in her 30's). I asked Moose the only sensible thing I could at that point, "Have you ever seen her topless?" Everyone standing around laughed. I was amused by that.

Speaking of Moose's crew, the guys in his crew who play in this band called Second Glances or something like that are gonna be out this evening at Village Tavern (on Westridge) playing their southern rock covers. I told the wife of the guitarist that I'd try and stop in at some point. It should be something to witness. I've been in Village Tavern a number of times over the years and the crowd in there is not exactly similar to the crowd at Sloppys. Different worlds completely. As for me, when I turn up, I'll be screaming for Second Chances or whatever they're called to play their version of Tom Petty's Even The Losers. While I'm not any type of Petty fan, I do like that song. And it is 100% true - even the losers get lucky sometimes...

Speaking of being out and about, I will be up in the town Elaine Benes is from over the weekend. In fact, you can find me tomorrow evening at the Patrick Bateman's on the Towson University campus. I'll be sitting (most likely standing actually) in with Nana's crew for the trivia. I hope like hell my silver-haired nemesis is there. That guy kills me. Either way, I expect a big group to make it out. As for the rest of the weekend, Luke from the Jacobys has already expressed interest in stopping by the cougar bar up York Rd on Friday night - always a wildly pitiful scene. And then there's football the rest of the weekend. It should be interesting...

Lawyer Jeff he knows the lowdown

----->

Oh, Henry!

I've been getting some interesting feedback on last week's post about the nuts running for Greensboro City Council. No one has actually left a comment or anything. But I have other methods of knowing who has read it and what their reaction was to it. How that is doesn't matter. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Anyway, I would remind folks as always - don't take anything you read on this silly blog too seriously. It's all harmless fun. Admittedly, fun at others' expense from time to time. Blah, blah, blah...

Speaking of the Gate City, yet another free newspaper type deal has been floating around town here the last few weeks. It's called O Henry - and yes, for all I know it is all about candy bars. I haven't read it. Obviously. But I did notice the photo on the cover. It was a glossy color picture shot at the bar of the O Henry Hotel over there on Green Valley. The picture was chock full of literary icons here in the Gate City; supposedly just sitting around casually chatting about the latest polo match or the daily special at Golden Corral. Either way. One of the local icons in the picture was the editor of the Rhino, a cat I believe that answers to Hammer (I'd just call him Stanley Burrell myself...). I'd never seen a photo of Hammer before this big splashy one in this new O Henry rag. And I was struck by one thing about the mighty editor of Greensboro's most influential free weekly - he looks like a homeless dude I see standing at the exit ramp by Wendover & I-40. It was eerie. Scary. And I was slightly nonplussed as a result. As for the other literary lions in this O Henry cover photo, I'm too ignorant to know who any of them are. I've already forgotten their names anyway. But conspicuously absent from the picture were both my man Scotty Roast from the Rhino & that hipster doofus from YES! Weekly who attacked me on this blog back about 20 months ago (I don't remember why at the moment & I'm too lazy to go back and read it...). And for the record, yours truly was not invited to be in this picture of Greensboro's movers and shakers of the writing world. And that stands to reason, as I'm not a real writer and hide behind the anonymity afforded me on the world wide web of deceit...

Brandon & I were out at Sloppys Saturday night, cheering in vain for Fresno & Purdue. The sketchy owner of the joint is some so nice he creeps you out foreigner. Maybe Indian - I have no idea, but definitely from one of the countries where they are not down with bathing all that often. You know, a country where everything smells like a vile mix of chutney and b.o. Anyway, this sketchball owner of Sloppys wanted to know why I wasn't gonna come in for Sunday Ticket the following day. I informed him that the bar is too cramped, the regulars too stupid, and the servers too ugly. He couldn't argue with me. I then said, in my best Apu imitation, "Thank you. Come again."

Speaking of ugly servers, the Kicken Chicken had about 50 of them wandering around the joint Sunday, feigning work. The place was packed, which is gonna happen when both the Cowboys and Washington are on at the same time and Fox 8 is showing the Carolina Panthers locally. I mean I couldn't get a place to sit at the back bar until after 3. Not that I minded too much, I was pacing anyway. At one point I got into a conversation with one of the owners/high up management guys (I wasn't paying too close attention to his actual title), and he informed me that the Chicken needs so many servers for 1 o'clock Sundays that he puts an ad up on Craigslist or something like Craigslist in order to get enough help in for the mad rush of afternoon gridiron action. I asked him why all the servers were so disturbingly ugly. He shrugged and said, "If I could answer that, I'd have found some means of getting hot chicks in here to work by now." It was an enlightening conversation to say the least. I wanted to delve into why a vast majority of the ugly servers sported jerseys of players who no longer play for whatever team they played for when said jersey was relevant (for example; lots of Delhomme Panther jerseys, McNabb Eagle jerseys, & Portis Redskin jerseys were being adorned by the various poor girls parading around delivering over-priced shitty food to fat football fans). Alas, I never got the chance to ask this manager/owner dude this question. Maybe I will soon, because this issue drives me crazy...

Speaking of Cowboy fans, it was enjoyable watching them file out silently about 4:30 Sunday. They were so loud and obnoxious until about 3 that is was nauseating as always (it didn't hurt that I had Detroit in a teaser {a 7-team teaser I won by the way}). There was one brother in particular who was busy running around screaming the whole 1st half. He was wearing a Quincy Carter jersey of all things (I badly wanted to ask him if he had a Ryan Leaf in his closet somewhere). And he was devastated after Romo choked the game away. I don't like to take glee in the pain of others, but when it comes to obnoxious Dallas fans, I will.

There was a group of Mexican Cowboy fans at the "friendship" table near where I was standing. At one point I did get the chance to ask one of them (in an 88 Bryant jersey) if he wore his Cowboy jersey when he mowed lawns during the week...Alas, he didn't laugh.

I keep seeing ads for some film called What's Your Number? I'll never see it. But I do wonder what the hell it could possibly be about. What's my number??? I rarely give it out. And if you've got my number, go ahead and text me sometime. What the hell.

There was a guy...