Dave's Flavor Saver

I was out the other night at Scams Brassfield (I'd wandered in the place on a total whim). As I walked toward the bar, I ran into a very nice couple (the Welkers) whom I see around town occasionally. Anyway, I had a few beers and was chatting with this couple about German history of all things. About an hour passes and a short black dude I've seen around the bars from time to time over the years (the poor brother is a Raider fan) starts to set up for karaoke. Now, as long suffering readers of this blog are aware, I love bad karaoke. I've blogged in the past about the karaoke nights at the Ramada on Loch Raven in the town Elaine Benes is from. So, I was pretty pumped for some hard hitting karaoke silliness. As 10 o'clock rolled around there were like 70 people at the bar breathlessly awaiting the big awful terrible singing show that was to come. And let me tell you, the random patrons of Scams Brassfeild were not disappointed. The "singers" were atrocious. Two performers in particular stand out for me. The first was this old timer (pictured above, photo courtesy of Jan.) who was clutching 2 beers at the bar at the same time. He waddled over to sing after some random blonde sang country (badly I might add). And he burst into some Sinatra type standard. He was a bad singer. Just bad, not horrific or anything off the charts shitty. But the old timer put so much emotion into his performance that I though he was gonna start crying at any moment. I was almost in tears, not due to any emotion I was feeling from the spectacle this geezer was putting on, but due to my terrible instinct to laugh at people as they humiliate themselves. The other memorable performance was just plain bizarre. I had gone outside after the strange old man's song to regain my bearings. While out there, I started to get hit on by a flaming homosexual. Which is fine, I've dealt with these offers many times over the years. A few minutes pass and this flirty gay fellow runs inside. I go back in immediately when I hear the beginning of Strokin' by Clarence Carter, because I love that song. It is so mindlessly vacuous, yet catchy. And I'll be damned but the same gay kid who was chatting me up was singing the Strokin'. Let me clarify that, he wasn't singing at all. He was speaking the words in a high-pitched, Paul Lynde nasally type voice. I was convulsing in such a fit of laughter, that I literally fell off the bar stool. You can ask the Welkers, they saw the whole thing. As the fairy wound down his version of Strokin', I threw a 20 to my man Scuba, bid adieu to the Welkers, and got the hell out of that Scams.

Speaking of being out, last night I was at the Wing Joint on Battleground for just a bit. And KC, day manager and resident lush, was telling me, Tess, and Tess's husband Alex that she hadn't seen snow until she was 16 years old. I said "Dandruff in your pubic hairs doesn't count, KC." And I gotta be honest. As many of you know, I don't normally laugh at my myself. I keep the delivery very dry (something I stole long ago from Johnny Carson, and was later perfected by Norm Macdonald). But I laughed for like 45 seconds. In fact, I was laughing so hard that Dave, taco lover and Glenn Beck lover, was worried I was gonna pass out. Seriously - dandruff in your pubic hairs doesn't count.

Speaking of tacos, if anyone is hungry in the Gate City late on a Wednesday night, wander your drunken self over to Ass Traps. You can get 3 tacos for $2.50. They are delicious. And the key is this: Dave is a taco lover. Dave will eat some damn tacos. And Dave has a pretty scruffy beard most days. And Dave likes to call his scruffy beard the flavor saver. And that's the whole key. When the juices from the tacos (or whatever else Dave happens to be munching at the time), drip out of his mouth, that unmistakable taco (or whatever else) flavor stays with Dave in that scruffy beard.

Speaking of cunnilingus, Dave (the taco & Glenn Beck lover) sent me a text the other night. Big Lauren and toothless Mitch were in the joint. And they are a big couple. I mean, combined there's gotta be 700 lbs of sexy girth between them. Anyway, in light of that key information, here's the text Dave sent me: Do you think Lauren and Mitch look like two whales when they fuck? And Dave knows better than to try and out gross me. I shot this text back to him mere seconds later: I bet she squirts pepperonis from her pussy when he eats her out.