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...