Crying Over Spilt Baby Oil

I went into some super-shitty dive bar last week called IUD (it's on Lawndale, and for what it's worth, the few women in the joint at the time did not appear to be the biggest fans of IUDs or any other birth control method, short of "pull out and come on my titties, baby!"). Anyway, Greensboro's favorite bartender, Dave (the Glenn Beck fanatic), wanted to drop in the IUD to see some bar wench he nailed back in the 8th Grade. A gal named Crystal Meth. And it appears that maybe this Crystal Meth has been partaking in some crystal meth from time to time, as she looked, as our buddy Big Dave (Big Dave managed to make it to IUD with Dave and me) put it, "Rode hard and hung up wet." Well, the 3 of us walked into the joint and immediately this crystal using Crystal runs up to Dave and gives him a big hug. I was sickened. After the hug, Crystal (the only employee working at the time in the IUD) made the 3 of us sign in as "guests" because the IUD is "members only," an absurd term that all bars in Greensboro have to go by if they serve alcohol only, no food. The membership rules at these places are almost never enforced, at least as near as I've ever been able to tell. The infamous Playas on W Market is also "members only" and I've been in there 300 times over the years and never been asked for a membership card or even been made to sign in as a "guest." The only time I've ever seen any bar staff ask anyone for their "membership" is when some undesirable came into the joint and they wanted to get rid of whoever quickly. But this nasty Crystal Meth girl made me, Big Dave, and Dave sign in at IUD as "guests" (for what it's worth, I signed in as Jerry Seinfeld, and promptly told both Daves that I always wanted to pretend to be Jewish - they DID laugh). Then we ordered 3 beers and that's when I kind of took in the place's ambiance. Or should I say I took in the place's complete lack of ambiance. Big Dave and I bolted for the back patio to give Dave a chance to do work on his long lost 8th Grade ho. It was back on that patio that I decided, while chatting with a redneck who brought his Pit Bull to the bar (the dog was named Buck, but, yes, you guessed it, this Buck sported a royal blue elastic collar that had DUKE written in white letters - the rednecks love the Devils), that the 3 of us were staying for 1 beer and then high-tailing out of there. About 10 minutes passed and Dave came out to the patio and I said, "Drink up. We're going." And I gotta hand it to Dave. He was in total agreement. I think even Dave was repulsed by what his Middle School skank had become. We walked back through the bar on our way out and that's when I saw something I have never seen before in a bar - EVER. There were 4 or 5 grown ass men sitting on bar stools, drinking away on a Monday night at about 10:30, watching professional wrestling on the TV in the corner. I am not kidding. I almost passed out from fits of hysterical laughter. As the 3 of us were driving away from the IUD, I asked Dave if he planned on going back and visiting Crystal Meth again. He said he didn't think so. I asked him if it was because Crystal Meth had become some nasty skank over the years. Then Dave said, "That's part of it. But mainly I don't want to see her again because she told me she fucks guys in the office during work hours." I said, "Oh...okay. She does look like the type. You gotta admit that." Then we dropped the whole subject. I think a little piece of Dave and his innocence may have died right then. For once, I can honestly report that in the case of the IUD, I am NOT planning on going back. What a fucking nightmare.

I was sitting one night out front of the Wing Joint on Battleground smoking (not dope or anything) with a new reader of this blog, a pretty cool girl named Tracy. And she asked me how much of what I write on this blog is true. And I told Tracy the same thing I told Mary way back in December 2008 about this blog - "It's as true as you want it to be." It really is.

I managed to catch the finale of The Search For America's Most Competent Karaoke Singer last week. Now, I hadn't watched it since early February. So, I had no idea who the 2 finalists were. Nor did I care. Some odd looking paint salesmen won the thing. Whatever. The thing that fascinated me was that my man William Hung did perform on the show. In fact, William Hung performed Pants On The Ground with the Pants On The Ground Guy. And I want to report that William Hung was awesome as always. Sheer genius. He mangled the words terribly. It just goes to show that what I've been saying for 6 years holds true - No one is hung like William Hung. Also, the group Chicago "performed" on the show. And they were beyond terrible. The whole spectacle was ridiculous. I don't think anyone is gonna watch it next year. The British guy who needs to buy bigger T-Shirts is leaving the show and unless they get Dick Cheney or Khalid Sheikh Mohammed to be the new judge, I have no interest in the show at all.

Someone told me that Gary Coleman passed away recently. When I heard this I asked, "What you talkin' bout Phyllis?"

It seems like things have been pretty quiet on the news front recently. I have no idea what old Barry and his band of merry socialists have been getting into lately. But I did hear one interesting tidbit about some oil spill off the coast of Louisiana that happened a few weeks ago. I heard that old Barry and his minions have been unable to do anything to stop it. Which is terrible, but also ironic. Because I recall a few years ago when old W took a beating from old Barry and his ilk over the slow response to that hurricane that hit in 2005. I mean, they crucified old W. And while seeing this damage go on and on is not good, there might be a "teachable moment" here for old Barry and his crew of commie sympathizers, that lesson is: Be careful before ripping a guy for circumstances beyond his control, because when the shoe is on the other foot, you're open to the same damn criticism. Once again, I'm tempted to label this Poetic Justice.

Speaking of this oil spill, when I first heard about it, I asked the bearer of the news this: "Baby or Olive?"

Well, I have been terribly derelict the past few months in getting posts up about the NBA Playoffs. I blame work. I've been busy as hell. Anyway, the Finals are here. And I'm still surprised that Boston flipped the switch and went back in time 2 years, except this time Rajon Rondo is one of the 5 best point guards in the NBA. The Magic missed Terkoglu more than they expected I guess. And Rashard Lewis disappeared at times. And Vince Carter was terrible. Blah, blah, blah...I wasn't the least bit surprised that Cleveland fell short again. I just didn't think it would be to Boston. In the West, the Lakers never got the series that I think they might have lost - to Dallas, as the Spurs did the rest of the West's dirty work, then promptly got swept by Phoenix. And the Suns did not have the bodies to keep LA off the glass consistently. They did give a valiant effort though. I'll give them that. As far as the Finals, Boston's defense will be tougher than anything LA has seen in 2 years (since the last Finals meeting). I expect to see some physical hoops during the series. I really do. My thoughts on the series as a whole are this: if the Lakers can get the 1st two at home, I like their chances immensely. But I have a suspicion that Boston might have something for the Lakers in game 1. Game 5 will be the key if that happens. If the series comes back to LA 3-2 Boston, then there's only one way LA can prevail - riding Kobe Fucking Bryant. It should be great theater. And the hoops should be good as well.

Lastly here today, I was flipping by the TMZ here recently and they had video of the chick from Friends on holiday at some beach resort. It was something...

Rust never sleeps

I am out - TBFH