Game Day

Strange as it may be the local Macados off of University Drive just down the street from VT was business as usual. I like this place because its where the locals come to toss back a few happy hour 2 dollar 24 oz longnecks. Laughter abounds and as I sit at the bar making small talk and typing occasionally. Topics range from local catering restrictions and a need to really cut the grass to “yaint from here r-ya”. Now I am a redneck-American by birth and appreciate the southern end of the spectrum but damn (or should I say dang!) Rarely does anyone see such pride in excessive uses of colloquisms and what I call the “ding dang dong” factor added for effect to every conversation. Now I will admit that this observation is of the men only. The women seem to understand that cuteness is just that and sounding intelligent is better than folksy.

 

The media (its game day) has arrived, not the talent, just the ‘logo shirt” crowd. All the local Cindys just went on full alert. You can smell the FDS in the air! They are ready, they are needy. Who knows when this many not from heres are within reach of the deprived read: depraved  set. Those who rarely if ever have the chance to flirt with men without a pinch between their cheek and gum. Men who groom and drive two wheel drive trucks. Or cars or hybrids…wait, hybrids are crops right? Let the games begin! As I sit and peck at the keyboard I see forces of nature in play.

 

Lambs to the slaughter, moths to the flame.

 

Joanie the Bartroll

Great God! The more you look at her the worse it gets! From the 6 o'clock position she has a fine rear, small firm and sporty. Clearly false advertising! Move in about 100 yards, thin, really long, really blond hair, end zone pretty. Come in on a strafe...hit the ejector, damn the trees! Looks like an extra on a bad film, really wrecked grill, bad front tooth that demands you stare at it. Add a weathered never seen moisture, smokes 3 cartons a week complexion and to top it all off has painted her nails with WHITEOUT! That is just wrong. She hones in on you and you are trapped. Doesn't matter what you say, even me, she will not stop with the unending sad ass story of her miserable dysfunctional excuse of a like, Woe is me... You said it Woe is us.

Damn, I couldn't even ramp it up to insult speed

Don't Apologize damn it!!

She was drunk enough to have no filter. I have not one either so I liked the encounter. You can really get stuff done with that kind of unbridled honesty.

Her: I really like you...you are really nice.
Me: I think you are hot, not nice. Nice sleeps alone.
Her: If I didn't like your wife so much I would have fucked you by now!
Me: I like her too but DAMN that's really flattering!
Her: Yeah, I'm always ready... I'm sorry I haven't blown you yet. Its the least I should have done.
Me:Aw, Baby, don't apologize...

Damn!

Skinny McBartenders

I may never get proper bar service again...

I walk in to "new chicken behind the bar" day at my local watering hole (I said Hole) and tried to be nice, really. Nice, elf! Wow, how fucking skinny can you be and still survive? She has a weird lower lip thing as well, like she needs to spit. Kinda bitchy so what the hell... she ain't going to make the week. (game on) "Damn Baby how much you weigh, 82, 83 pounds depending on whether you swallowed??" No beer for me, come on the tap ain't that heavy... She looked puzzled. (game over-forfeit)


Damn!

But is it really hate?

Everyone has someone they really don't care for... I am apparently just that person. I kinda like it when it comes from this uptight , never had a good time in her life, friend of my neighbor. She is such the slunt wannabe. Fancies herself as this metropolitan diva that slums it from time to time with her old friend from college.
I rub this chicken the wrong way! Everytime! The last time was this weekend...knowing she bristles at my sight I just roll with it. I walk into my neighborhood bar and there she sits... crestfallen at the sight of me. (Game on) Naturally I say hi... and "Wow! How much fucking duct tape did it take to give you that much cleavage!" She made a comment about my facial hair..."Womb Broom Baby, but in your case it protects against rust" Nervous laughter ensues. "But hey, I'll still do you if you want a charitable donation but I want a reciept for my taxes" Three insults and less than five minutes after my arrival she refused to acknowlege even my presence (Game over)

We laughed all night; and kept sending her glasses of ice.

FYI: Slunt(n.) a sleezy cunt.

Can you see it little darling?

And speaking of hookers earlier...

My favorite hooker story involves a really large man we all called Big Daddy. (this is the short version) He was pretty big, so big his hangover pretty much covered everything down to his knee. Once we arranged a hooker to come take care of Big Daddy. Most in the past would just leave, cursing us all exclaiming that that was too much man for them, blah blah blah. This time our companion was up for a challenge. She wedged up under the horn and was warming him up when he exclaimed "Can you see it little darling?" "I see it Big Daddy" was her mumbled reply to which he said "Well give it my best regards, I haven't seen it in years!"

The rest of the sordid tale of tail will wait, it gets much worse.

Viva Las Hookers

I was in the Hilton in Vegas sitting with an ex-coworker from a few years back. We were in the bar (of course) drinking and enjoying the parade of hookers. Some were nice, cute, sporty others were tired, plain and downright ugly. All were making my buddy squirm! He kept using aliases and reasons he wasn’t interested. What the hell are you doing?? They ain’t going to send you a Christmas card and telling on you to the fam isn’t really what they have in mind.

He damn near left the bar when I go on a “hooker tour” interviewing each of them…asking them their names, where they are from, how long they have been hooking, what their best sex trick is, what they want to do to my friend, can I put my finger inside them, etc. I tried to stir it up with a “Lets Make a Deal - Monte Hall” thing. Sex workers don’t do bidding wars by the way. My buddy left in a hurry to go hide in his double locked oasis on the 10^th floor because there was talk of a twofer deal. I guess his Vegas saying is “What happens in Vegas will haunt your dreams forever”

I however gave the nicest, least attractive hooker a $20 and his address. Explain that Christmas card you loser!

And away we go

 

Testing… Can you hear me Watson?