I stumbled into the break room at the place I occasionally show up to work recently to get a cup of free & putrid coffee. A bald-headed man with strange facial hair was standing in front of one of the coffee pots. He had some of that fake creamer (the kind that's not liquid) that he was pouring into the bottom of his little white styrophone cup. The flavor of said fake creamer was hazelnut. I seized on this fact and even though I didn't know this baldy's name, I engaged this man in a little break room conversation. I asked him, "Are you a fan of Shirley Booth?" He didn't respond to that beyond a look of confusion mixed with horror. I pressed on, nonplussed "I for one think Shirley Booth is hot. I mean in that show she was always parading around in that maid uniform, and maid uniforms are always hot. Hazel was hot." He responded by kind of shaking his head uncertainly. The woman who works in the break room and is in charge of the coffee and whatnot was standing within earshot of myself and this strange fellow. And she started laughing pretty hard. I said to her, "Don't you at least agree with me? Hazel is hot as hell." And while Shirley Booth may not not in fact be hot as hell, and while Hazel was an unwatchable piece of 60's garbage, it's really best not to argue with my warped logic in situations like the one I'm describing. That will get you nowhere. So the lady who makes the coffee and whatnot around the place I occasionally show up to work just kind of shrugged her shoulders and said, "Whatever you say, _____." As for the bald-headed man whose name I don't know, I haven't seen him around the break room since this tragic incident took place. He probably thinks I'm crazy...
Brandon & I were out at Sloppys a week ago Friday. It featured the typical crowd doing their typical drinking, with one exception. There was a buck-toothed woman in the joint I'd never seen before. She made it a point of grabbing the bar stool to my right & while I wanted to ignore her entirely & focus on the various baseball games on the shitty TV's at Sloppys, that's not what happened. That's never what happens. I learned through some light bar banter that this woman's name was Cheryl. She works at a factory in Browns Summit. She has 2 kids - one 20 and the other 17. Did I mention that Cheryl had buck-teeth? This woman's jaw was a mess. As a result of the jaw and all the buck-teeth flying everywhere, Cheryl was a little on the repulsive side. At one point she stood up to go say hello to the infamous Michigan Molly (who happened to be sitting way down the bar from me for once). And seeing buck-toothed Cheryl stand up was alarming as well. She had one of those odd pear-shaped bodies. She looked like a blob of sorts and the fact her jeans were too tight didn't help matters at all. Cheryl sat back down & I did a shot of the infamous rock-gut whiskey. It was then that I decided to talk a bit more personally with buck-tooth Cheryl. I asked her if Brandon & I could guess her age. She didn't really give me the okay but I plowed ahead anyway. I said, "You look like you're 28 to me." She said, "I told you I had a 20 year-old. I can't be no 28." I said, "I could easily see you giving birth at 8 years old. You've got those hot breeder hips I find so tempting." Brandon started laughing. She responded by attempting a seductive smile through her arsenal of jagged teeth pointed in various directions & said, "I'm older than you think I am." I shot back, "No way you're over 35. No way in fucking hell." Brandon kept laughing. Cheryl said, "I'm older than 40." I replied, "Don't fuck with me Cheryl. That's cruel & I'm a very shy and sensitive guy." More laughter from Brandon. She finally came out and said she was 44. When learning this I had to tell Cheryl, "Well, forgive me for not believing you. But you really look way younger than that. You must have steered clear of the meth." Cheryl was quite sheepish (and ignorant) about my insincere display of silliness. When Brandon & I went outside to smoke, he asked me "How old did you really think she was?" I said, "55, easy. Easy. I would have never for a second thought she was still in her 40's." Brandon wholeheartedly agreed with that. He thought the chick was at least 50 as well. I took off from Sloppys shortly after that, thinking nothing of Cheryl after leaving. I drove over to Wing Joint, sat down at the bar, ordered a beer and another shot of the old rock-gut crap. I was feeling pretty good. About 15 minutes passed & I'll be damned but this buck-toothed Cheryl woman appears seemingly out of nowhere to my left. She must have overheard Brandon & I discussing a change of bar venue at Sloppys. That's all I can figure. I ignored her, took another shot, and left Wing Joint. And I think a very valuable lesson can be learned as a result of my little encounter with buck-toothed Cheryl. Not a valuable lesson for me, of course. I never learn. Never. But a lesson for all the real people who drop in on this retarded blog from time to time can be learned. It's this - if you decide to pass the time at a dive bar by fucking with a middle-aged, buck-toothed, meth addicted, factory worker, don't tip your hand about what bar you're going to next. That's the kind of sound advice you can only get here.
I was sitting at Scams Lakeside the other night & the damn NFL Enrty Draft was on a couple of the TV's in the place. I paid as little attention as possible to it. However, one very disturbing trend emerged that even this disinterested observer took notice of. That would be all the damn hugging. After each pick, a draftee would walk onto to stage and Roger Goodell would hug the draftee for like 30 seconds. I kept waiting for Goodell to start making out with some of the dudes. When did they start all this unnecessary and creepy hugging at the NFL Entry Draft? I was weirded out by the whole thing.
I was watching a rerun of Hee Haw recently on some channel. It was unwatchably stupid. The clothes were amazing though. The episode was out of the mid 70's I'd guess and seeing the mixture of horrible 70's clothes with country music sensibility was not easy on the eyes. I always enjoyed Hee Haw when I was a kid. Who doesn't love Lulu? Fucking Lulu - she's enormous. And ugly. A perfect combination.
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