Thursday, April 29th
Spending the first part of the evening at home. If I'd gone to Jack's to watch the game, I'd be shitfaced drunk by now or well on my way.
...
Later. Much, much later. 2:26 a.m. to be exact. My thoughts are wrapped around Nicole the 3rd (not Nicole, nor Tall Nicole) who like the other two Nicole's has blond-ish hair, is beautiful and has a unique story to tell. I only hope she does not lock herself out of her cabin again like she has so many times before.
But most of all I'm thankful that she spent her time here, tonight. When you have kids and live more or less off the grid, your free time and how you spend it matters. That I got to spend part of that precious time with her means a lot, because it's a priveledge (and on the side: I think too many men fail to appreciate this fact, i.e., a woman's time, especially if she has kids and especially if she's a single mother, has value. It's like gold, so don't forget it and make damn sure her time is well spent.)
Thank you Nicole the 3rd for the long hug before you left with Erin. Hope to see you again.
Thank you Erin for the kind compliments about my beard and the story of your father's beard. Your hands felt good. I wonder if you touched his beard the same way?
I'd write more, but I'm super damn tired and the sounds of Alice Deejay bring back memories of raves and clubs and a long ago life shared by this same body. Makes me want to let the dance out, but better to sleep on it and save it for next year.
See you Friday night at Jack's, Dear Reader. Don't forget Da Silva's Broncos tomorrow night at 9:30pm if you're in the mood to see Suicidal Barfly for the 2nd to last time ever! No cover charge!
.........zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..........
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Day 118 - One, two, Freddy's coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door. Five, six, grab your crucifix....(good times)
Wednesday, April 28th
Went with Wendee to see Nightmare On Elm Street at Oakridge today. Scared the shit out of me. Thanks to Tink aka the morning DJ aka Lori Rosales from California Music Channel for scoring free VIP passes for us.
Tink's the only person (man or woman) who's ever threatened to forcibly French braid my beard with ear hairs and nose hairs thrown in. That's what you get for tossing popcorn at her and landing it in her hair. ;) Oh and for the record: I keep that stuff neatly trimmed (Queer Eye For the Straight Guy FTW).
Speaking of Tink: Tink! There are many manly men at Jack's who would not have hesitated to give you a ride home after the movie! I'm taking away your date's Man Card™ at my next opportunity. Sometimes it's better to be known then not known, so I say stop trying to find someplace in the Bay Area you haven't been to (and you know you've been everywhere) and instead return to Jack's at your earliest opportunity to have your pick of the litter.
If you (Dear Reader) were at Jack's last night, you'd have seen Rina at the bar, Ras Dank on the door and DJ Benofficial holding court at the turntables.
You'd have seen Nicole and the mighty Sons of Pitches coed softball team nursing their wounds after their (first?) loss of the season.
You'd have seen Hasan and Sandeep, each man a prime example of the manly men that go to Jack's. Which is to say that, to my knowledge (deliberately limited on the subject, I admit) neither of these fellows runs around in tights. Nor tight tights (the really clingy kind where you can guess a man's religion). Nor do they run around the forest looking for fights.
You'd have seen me, sexy, handsome, bearded and round, on my 5th bottle of the trip around the world (that is, around the shelves of the bar, sampling each and every bottle before the year's out). Tonight's bottle was Highland Park Single Malt Scotch Whisky.
I'm sure it was "Whisky" and not "Whiskey" because Highland Park is not an American brand. Little drinking details, Dear Reader, are important.
Thank goodness someone else pointed that Whisky/Whiskey factoid out to me, or I'd have certainly not cottoned on.
If you haven't gone outside to look at the moon lately, then do so now. It was full and bright in the sky last night as it rose up over the trees behind Happi House.
Last but not least you'd have seen Wendee aka Rosicrucian walk in with her trench coat on. Please excuse me while I think back on some inappropriate-in-public-yet-fun trench coat moments.
(:happy:)
'Dee had to drop Tink off at home before repairing to Jack's to share a round with me and to harangue me for not writing in the blog lately.
Thank's 'Dee, I needed that.
A glass of scotch. A glass of beer. Simple, sober (though strangely warm in my thighs again) and ready for home.
See you Friday at Jack's!
p.s. My first ever trip to Da Silva's Broncos (1251 Franklin Square, Santa Clara, 408.248.4682) will commence at 9:30pm for the second to last Suicidal Barfly show ever. Preaching To The Animals, The Lytes and Shawn Packer will also be in attendance. No cover charge either!
Went with Wendee to see Nightmare On Elm Street at Oakridge today. Scared the shit out of me. Thanks to Tink aka the morning DJ aka Lori Rosales from California Music Channel for scoring free VIP passes for us.
Tink's the only person (man or woman) who's ever threatened to forcibly French braid my beard with ear hairs and nose hairs thrown in. That's what you get for tossing popcorn at her and landing it in her hair. ;) Oh and for the record: I keep that stuff neatly trimmed (Queer Eye For the Straight Guy FTW).
Speaking of Tink: Tink! There are many manly men at Jack's who would not have hesitated to give you a ride home after the movie! I'm taking away your date's Man Card™ at my next opportunity. Sometimes it's better to be known then not known, so I say stop trying to find someplace in the Bay Area you haven't been to (and you know you've been everywhere) and instead return to Jack's at your earliest opportunity to have your pick of the litter.
If you (Dear Reader) were at Jack's last night, you'd have seen Rina at the bar, Ras Dank on the door and DJ Benofficial holding court at the turntables.
You'd have seen Nicole and the mighty Sons of Pitches coed softball team nursing their wounds after their (first?) loss of the season.
You'd have seen Hasan and Sandeep, each man a prime example of the manly men that go to Jack's. Which is to say that, to my knowledge (deliberately limited on the subject, I admit) neither of these fellows runs around in tights. Nor tight tights (the really clingy kind where you can guess a man's religion). Nor do they run around the forest looking for fights.
You'd have seen me, sexy, handsome, bearded and round, on my 5th bottle of the trip around the world (that is, around the shelves of the bar, sampling each and every bottle before the year's out). Tonight's bottle was Highland Park Single Malt Scotch Whisky.
I'm sure it was "Whisky" and not "Whiskey" because Highland Park is not an American brand. Little drinking details, Dear Reader, are important.
Thank goodness someone else pointed that Whisky/Whiskey factoid out to me, or I'd have certainly not cottoned on.
If you haven't gone outside to look at the moon lately, then do so now. It was full and bright in the sky last night as it rose up over the trees behind Happi House.
Last but not least you'd have seen Wendee aka Rosicrucian walk in with her trench coat on. Please excuse me while I think back on some inappropriate-in-public-yet-fun trench coat moments.
(:happy:)
'Dee had to drop Tink off at home before repairing to Jack's to share a round with me and to harangue me for not writing in the blog lately.
Thank's 'Dee, I needed that.
A glass of scotch. A glass of beer. Simple, sober (though strangely warm in my thighs again) and ready for home.
See you Friday at Jack's!
p.s. My first ever trip to Da Silva's Broncos (1251 Franklin Square, Santa Clara, 408.248.4682) will commence at 9:30pm for the second to last Suicidal Barfly show ever. Preaching To The Animals, The Lytes and Shawn Packer will also be in attendance. No cover charge either!
Day 117 - Gabi's Eyes and Grizzlies Everywhere
Tuesday, April 27th
It's alive! Mwahahaha!
Which is to say my phone's working again. Even have a new back plate on it too. Thanks dudes at Verizon Palo Alto. One of 'em recognized my Jack's hoodie and asked if I knew Charlie. Pshaw yes! The dude from Verizon knows Charlie from his work in Campbell. I'm going to have to find my way to Campbell one of these days. Maybe toss a caber while I'm at it (they do that in Campbell, or the people at Metro have been lying to me for years).
I figure if I'm sporting beard then a kilt shouldn't be that hard to sport too. Caber toss linky (with pictures ftw).
So today's Around the World of Jack's drink is Dewar's White Label Scotch. Woo boy that was a tough drink! I think I like the dark label stuff better. Thanks Tanisha for serving me a fast beer and tossing a couple cubes of ice into that scotch.
There were only six people in the bar when I arrived. Tanisha was tending. Detroit was busy dismantling Phoenix on Flat Screens 1 and 2, and went on to win game 7 of their series and thus will be playing the Sharks next. I hope they make them play right away on Thursday and not wait for the weekend. Less time for Detroit to rest that way.
On Flat Screens 3, 4 and 5 the Bulls were playing Cleveland, but I wasn't paying much attention.
Several Grizzlies softball players arrived and looked ready to drink. They were all black uniforms with white logos. One of them asked Tanisha why Jack's doesn't have a softball team. I don't remember her answer but something tells me if the call went out for players to form a Jack's-sponsored team, then they'd have to hold tryouts. Either that or run two teams.
Right after that Gabi, Devito, Christian aka Mr. Grumpypants and someone else (who the heck is "gart?" --bad phone note taking there) showed up, plus three more people who sat with already-there friends at Table 3.
I spent some time outside with Christian while he explained about the grumpy funk he was in. It occurred to me while we were talking that it was the gloaming at that point (twilight, the time after sunset and before dark) and I thought that was cool, especially since the moon wasn't waiting for the sun to set before it rose up in the east, looking nearly full.
Back inside the bar Gabi's coworker Catie arrived. Devito and I moved over to make room for her to sit down next to Gabi and that's about when I first caught Catie's scent. Catie was wearing Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue and oh my God I didn't know a mix of rose, apple, musk and jasmine could make my mouth water. I mean she smelled good.
I watched at Travis arrived to take over for Tanisha. He started by turning down the sound so Tanisha could make a call in order to close out her register. After that he teased Tanisha (Travis: Well *I* started tending bar in 1984 when a certain other bartender was four years old.) and out of the blue he flipped a bottle before poring a drink with it.
I think that's the first time I've ever seen him do that. Very smooth motion. I've watched other Jack's bartenders do that (Matt comes to mind) but none of them until now have reminded me of Tom Cruise in the movie Cocktail.
Devito bought me a shot at that point. Thanks man. I was about to leave after that, but Gabi very nicely bought me a beer and the fourth stop on my World Tour: Black Label scotch (can't recall name, my notes are incomplete). Much, much, better than the white label stuff.
So at this point Devito has gone home and I'm happily sitting in between Gabi+Catie on my left and Tanisha and her tattooed long-time friend James(??) on my right. The point is that I was in a little slice of heaven right there, stuck between three pretty ladies.
I watched and listened as Gabi and Catie chatted: first one would twirl her hair with a finger and soon the other would follow. That never gets old.
I had to step into the bathroom and on my way out of the stall I caught an old dude who'd just finished at the urinal and seemed to have trouble backing up. He'd been sitting at the end of the bar since before I showed up, soaking up alcohol like a sponge. Thank God the old dude was zipped up and done when he landed in my arms.
Back at the bar and it's Catie's turn to step in back. Right around then Gabi told me what her first name is short for. Pretty, that. And then I let myself do what I'd been wanting to do all night: look her full in her pretty green eyes. It's like having a Willy Wonka's One Of A Kind Chocolate Bar in the kitchen and making yourself wait an hour in the living room before going into the kitchen to have just one small little bite, which you end up savoring all night long.
About that time Catie returned and so did Tanisha with a bag full of food. She and James proceeded to scarf it down while Travis and James talked about Kevin Smith (they're big fans [literally] and so am I). Travis is also a popsicle freak. FYI if you need to curry favor with him at the bar on a hot summer day.
Around 10:19 p.m. Robert showed up (in a much better mood since I'd last seen him) and someone mentioned that St. Germaine liqueur is made from Elderflowers. Hrm...you learn all kinds of stuff in the bar (and most of it's true).
10:30 or so and I observe that Gabi keeps her hair tie on her left arm as she tells me about the time when she was seven and her babysitter let her watch Nightmare on Elm Street part III. Her parents found her huddled more or less in a fetal position later that night in her room.
Do you have any scary Nightmare on Elm Street stories, Dear Reader? If so, comment below!
ACME rolled in soon after that. He's off on vacation to see family in Texas later this week. Niece's first comunion coming up. Good time for him to get out and take a break, methinks.
Travis elected to show the bar their completed flugtag video for the Red Bull Flugtag video submission. Lolz I love it when Christian gets bonked on the head. Larry Love makes a great caveman too.
With my drinks done and Gabi gone for home, it was time for me to follow suit. See you Wednesday night at Jack's!
It's alive! Mwahahaha!
Which is to say my phone's working again. Even have a new back plate on it too. Thanks dudes at Verizon Palo Alto. One of 'em recognized my Jack's hoodie and asked if I knew Charlie. Pshaw yes! The dude from Verizon knows Charlie from his work in Campbell. I'm going to have to find my way to Campbell one of these days. Maybe toss a caber while I'm at it (they do that in Campbell, or the people at Metro have been lying to me for years).
I figure if I'm sporting beard then a kilt shouldn't be that hard to sport too. Caber toss linky (with pictures ftw).
So today's Around the World of Jack's drink is Dewar's White Label Scotch. Woo boy that was a tough drink! I think I like the dark label stuff better. Thanks Tanisha for serving me a fast beer and tossing a couple cubes of ice into that scotch.
There were only six people in the bar when I arrived. Tanisha was tending. Detroit was busy dismantling Phoenix on Flat Screens 1 and 2, and went on to win game 7 of their series and thus will be playing the Sharks next. I hope they make them play right away on Thursday and not wait for the weekend. Less time for Detroit to rest that way.
On Flat Screens 3, 4 and 5 the Bulls were playing Cleveland, but I wasn't paying much attention.
Several Grizzlies softball players arrived and looked ready to drink. They were all black uniforms with white logos. One of them asked Tanisha why Jack's doesn't have a softball team. I don't remember her answer but something tells me if the call went out for players to form a Jack's-sponsored team, then they'd have to hold tryouts. Either that or run two teams.
Right after that Gabi, Devito, Christian aka Mr. Grumpypants and someone else (who the heck is "gart?" --bad phone note taking there) showed up, plus three more people who sat with already-there friends at Table 3.
I spent some time outside with Christian while he explained about the grumpy funk he was in. It occurred to me while we were talking that it was the gloaming at that point (twilight, the time after sunset and before dark) and I thought that was cool, especially since the moon wasn't waiting for the sun to set before it rose up in the east, looking nearly full.
Back inside the bar Gabi's coworker Catie arrived. Devito and I moved over to make room for her to sit down next to Gabi and that's about when I first caught Catie's scent. Catie was wearing Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue and oh my God I didn't know a mix of rose, apple, musk and jasmine could make my mouth water. I mean she smelled good.
I watched at Travis arrived to take over for Tanisha. He started by turning down the sound so Tanisha could make a call in order to close out her register. After that he teased Tanisha (Travis: Well *I* started tending bar in 1984 when a certain other bartender was four years old.) and out of the blue he flipped a bottle before poring a drink with it.
I think that's the first time I've ever seen him do that. Very smooth motion. I've watched other Jack's bartenders do that (Matt comes to mind) but none of them until now have reminded me of Tom Cruise in the movie Cocktail.
Devito bought me a shot at that point. Thanks man. I was about to leave after that, but Gabi very nicely bought me a beer and the fourth stop on my World Tour: Black Label scotch (can't recall name, my notes are incomplete). Much, much, better than the white label stuff.
So at this point Devito has gone home and I'm happily sitting in between Gabi+Catie on my left and Tanisha and her tattooed long-time friend James(??) on my right. The point is that I was in a little slice of heaven right there, stuck between three pretty ladies.
I watched and listened as Gabi and Catie chatted: first one would twirl her hair with a finger and soon the other would follow. That never gets old.
I had to step into the bathroom and on my way out of the stall I caught an old dude who'd just finished at the urinal and seemed to have trouble backing up. He'd been sitting at the end of the bar since before I showed up, soaking up alcohol like a sponge. Thank God the old dude was zipped up and done when he landed in my arms.
Back at the bar and it's Catie's turn to step in back. Right around then Gabi told me what her first name is short for. Pretty, that. And then I let myself do what I'd been wanting to do all night: look her full in her pretty green eyes. It's like having a Willy Wonka's One Of A Kind Chocolate Bar in the kitchen and making yourself wait an hour in the living room before going into the kitchen to have just one small little bite, which you end up savoring all night long.
About that time Catie returned and so did Tanisha with a bag full of food. She and James proceeded to scarf it down while Travis and James talked about Kevin Smith (they're big fans [literally] and so am I). Travis is also a popsicle freak. FYI if you need to curry favor with him at the bar on a hot summer day.
Around 10:19 p.m. Robert showed up (in a much better mood since I'd last seen him) and someone mentioned that St. Germaine liqueur is made from Elderflowers. Hrm...you learn all kinds of stuff in the bar (and most of it's true).
10:30 or so and I observe that Gabi keeps her hair tie on her left arm as she tells me about the time when she was seven and her babysitter let her watch Nightmare on Elm Street part III. Her parents found her huddled more or less in a fetal position later that night in her room.
Do you have any scary Nightmare on Elm Street stories, Dear Reader? If so, comment below!
ACME rolled in soon after that. He's off on vacation to see family in Texas later this week. Niece's first comunion coming up. Good time for him to get out and take a break, methinks.
Travis elected to show the bar their completed flugtag video for the Red Bull Flugtag video submission. Lolz I love it when Christian gets bonked on the head. Larry Love makes a great caveman too.
With my drinks done and Gabi gone for home, it was time for me to follow suit. See you Wednesday night at Jack's!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Day 116 - Absolutely Fucking Hammered
Monday, April 26th
Quote of the day:
I don’t think anyone in this bar has a small penis.
-Travis, speaking to Crystal
According to the Urban Dictionary, Tie One On is defined as: To get drunk or start drinking before the hangover from last night has worn off.
By that definition I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to tie one on from now (9:51 a.m. Tuesday morning) until at least 4 p.m. today.
A glass of 18 year old scotch, a glass of 10 year old scotch, three glasses of beer, a pitcher of beer, a tall can of beer, a blueberry press and a round of shots will do that to you, or so I’m discovering all over again.
Some notes:
• Happy Birthday Patty! (Her bday is today [Tuesday] and not Monday, but I was at the bar until 2 a.m. or so which means this counts as a birthday wish and not an unbirthday wish, which is different yet slightly the same).
• $100 put down for one of Aimee B’s awesome pieces hanging on the wall of the bar. Two more installments and it’s mine. She's got another showing happening at a hair salon in the Bay Area soon. Anybody know where?
• Thanks Doug for helping me to get started on my trip around the world (that is, sampling every bottle sitting on the glass shelves, hopefully before the year is done). I’ll do my best to sample a new bottle first before having my customary beer and will try to remember: no ice in the scotch!
• Thanks to Joaquin for the beer.
• Thanks to Anurag (he’s back from India!) for the beer.
• Thanks to everyone for letting this white man dance without laughing him right out of the bar last night.
• Thanks to all the pretty ladies for being so pretty. Whether industry ladies wearing red thongs or big breasted, skirt wearing white collar blonds, they were all awesome.
• Thank you Aimee B. for teaching me to watch over my scotch like a hawk. I know now that if I don’t drink it, you’ll bus it. ;)
• Thanks Connecticut (that’s so win, I spelled it right the first time) Guy for stopping by the bar. Hotels are no fun solo and Jack’s is, as you said yourself, “A Four Star Dive Bar.” (That’s Connecticut Guy quoting the internet there, from a search result for Jack’s.)
• Thanks other Connecticut Guy aka Thunder for not slaying me on the spot and being a good sport. Sorry I stole your hat off your head.
• For the record: I did not remove the joining piece from the bar stool. That particular piece of wood (no doubt repaired by Matt the bartender at least eighteen different times previously) that I took out of my back pocket and handed over to Rina sometime before last call was itself delivered to me by someone else. Much earlier in the night a concerned bar patron noticed the piece was loose and yanked it the rest of the way off the bar stool he was sitting on. Good thing he doesn’t spank it like he yanked it or that would be a very sad day for him, which is to say the piece of wood smacked my hand like a school teacher meting out punishment with a ruler, because Concerned Bar Patron heaved a little too hard during the removal process. So I did the responsible thing and made him hand it over (Lolz who am I kidding? I asked for the piece of wood ‘cause at the time it seemed like a great bar souvenir.) If it looked like I had a stick up my ass after that point, well I basically did.
There’s more (8 hours spent at the bar, you bet there's a goddamned book chapter’s worth of "more" right there), but I’m tired as fuck, hung over like a dusty old rug waiting to get the crap beat out of it by an old school Russian farm wife armed with a broom and a drinking problem, and break’s over here at work.
See you Tuesday at Jack’s, you wonderful bunch of enablers. ;) And thank you for reading!
Quote of the day:
I don’t think anyone in this bar has a small penis.
-Travis, speaking to Crystal
According to the Urban Dictionary, Tie One On is defined as: To get drunk or start drinking before the hangover from last night has worn off.
By that definition I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to tie one on from now (9:51 a.m. Tuesday morning) until at least 4 p.m. today.
A glass of 18 year old scotch, a glass of 10 year old scotch, three glasses of beer, a pitcher of beer, a tall can of beer, a blueberry press and a round of shots will do that to you, or so I’m discovering all over again.
Some notes:
• Happy Birthday Patty! (Her bday is today [Tuesday] and not Monday, but I was at the bar until 2 a.m. or so which means this counts as a birthday wish and not an unbirthday wish, which is different yet slightly the same).
• $100 put down for one of Aimee B’s awesome pieces hanging on the wall of the bar. Two more installments and it’s mine. She's got another showing happening at a hair salon in the Bay Area soon. Anybody know where?
• Thanks Doug for helping me to get started on my trip around the world (that is, sampling every bottle sitting on the glass shelves, hopefully before the year is done). I’ll do my best to sample a new bottle first before having my customary beer and will try to remember: no ice in the scotch!
• Thanks to Joaquin for the beer.
• Thanks to Anurag (he’s back from India!) for the beer.
• Thanks to everyone for letting this white man dance without laughing him right out of the bar last night.
• Thanks to all the pretty ladies for being so pretty. Whether industry ladies wearing red thongs or big breasted, skirt wearing white collar blonds, they were all awesome.
• Thank you Aimee B. for teaching me to watch over my scotch like a hawk. I know now that if I don’t drink it, you’ll bus it. ;)
• Thanks Connecticut (that’s so win, I spelled it right the first time) Guy for stopping by the bar. Hotels are no fun solo and Jack’s is, as you said yourself, “A Four Star Dive Bar.” (That’s Connecticut Guy quoting the internet there, from a search result for Jack’s.)
• Thanks other Connecticut Guy aka Thunder for not slaying me on the spot and being a good sport. Sorry I stole your hat off your head.
• For the record: I did not remove the joining piece from the bar stool. That particular piece of wood (no doubt repaired by Matt the bartender at least eighteen different times previously) that I took out of my back pocket and handed over to Rina sometime before last call was itself delivered to me by someone else. Much earlier in the night a concerned bar patron noticed the piece was loose and yanked it the rest of the way off the bar stool he was sitting on. Good thing he doesn’t spank it like he yanked it or that would be a very sad day for him, which is to say the piece of wood smacked my hand like a school teacher meting out punishment with a ruler, because Concerned Bar Patron heaved a little too hard during the removal process. So I did the responsible thing and made him hand it over (Lolz who am I kidding? I asked for the piece of wood ‘cause at the time it seemed like a great bar souvenir.) If it looked like I had a stick up my ass after that point, well I basically did.
There’s more (8 hours spent at the bar, you bet there's a goddamned book chapter’s worth of "more" right there), but I’m tired as fuck, hung over like a dusty old rug waiting to get the crap beat out of it by an old school Russian farm wife armed with a broom and a drinking problem, and break’s over here at work.
See you Tuesday at Jack’s, you wonderful bunch of enablers. ;) And thank you for reading!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Day 113 - Charlie Says I'm Beautiful, and I Suppose I Am Thank You Very Much
Quote of the day:
"Jeremy and The Coco are husky and take up space for a reason! Dude write that in your blog OK?"
-The Coco, friendly fellow who lives on 4th and Taylor
Friday, April 23rd
As it relates to the title of this blog post: if a bartender says it then it must be true, right? ;)
Tonight's visit to Jack's was preceded by a drive home from San Francisco, where I'd just spend a pleasant evening with an aunt and uncle of mine on my Dad's side of the family. They'd come up for a coin show at the San Francisco Mint. We met up around Mission and 5th, then walked in the cold wind to Little Joe's Italian Restaurant for dinner, passing up the usual mix of locals (retail people, business people, street walkers come over from the East Bay via BART train and homeless people) and tourists along the way.
After dinner we walked up to Geary street where the aunt and uncle's hotel was situated and had a nice long conversation inside, followed by picture taking in the lobby. It was here that I learned my great grandfather on my Dad's side sent his visa back to Russia so a friend of his in the German immigrant farming community (that had failed farm-wise) could enter the United States through Galveston, Texas (did you know Galveston saw 133,000 immigrants come through? It's like the Ellis Island of the South) and make his way to Colorado to where my grandfather was staying. This man couldn't have immigrated otherwise because back then you were not permitted to enter the country without a valid visa and papers showing someone in the States had promised you a job.
The family is pretty sure Galveston was where our last name morphed from Gruinemier to Grenemyer. This also explains why certain Colorado State Sheriffs with the last name of Clay look in on my Great Uncle every now and then to pay their respects.
After goodbyes, hugs and handshakes, I left the hotel and walked back to the parking garage. The walk through that part of town was awesome. Anyone who's spent a Friday night in San Francisco will tell you the city is a blast to be in. Tonight was no different. I wonder which streets Pizza Jorge knows best? Or Miss Stephanie? Or East Side Scott?
Dressed as I was (steel toe boots, thick weave khaki work pants, layered red shirts under Oakley jacket, beard in full effect and a blue Miller Lite beanie) the homeless people panhandling for spare change only nodded at me when I looked at them, saving their requests for the people walking behind me on the sidewalk. They either feared the beard or thought I was a well-dressed homeless person lolz.
I stopped to look through the glass at rock and roll artwork and was tempted to walk in to the multi-story Rasputin Music, but I had a schedule to keep if I was to make it back in time to hit Jack's before midnight. (Lolz did you see where my glass slipper went? Can't find it.)
The drive south on 101 was fast. I must've made it to San Jose in 40 minutes and didn't even finish listening to my Squirrel Nut Zippers CD (well, it's actually Sugi's, but some things don't always change hands as they should when two people separate from each other).
Anywhoo, back in familiar territory and I chose to park in the sweet spot by El Tarrasco as it was closed this late at night and I spied some familiar faces as I got situated in my truck (recount cash on hand, Crapberry in pocket for note taking inside the bar, make sure fly is zipped, etc...). Gary was standing out front and that's a rare sighting right there. Ras Dank was on the door and Robert was to his side.
I said hello to all of them as I walked up to the door and Gary pulled out $3 bucks and gave it to me for my first drink of the night. Gary: you fucking rock dude. Thank you! Gary seemed a bit down as his lady was off to a bachelorette party, but he was with friends and still showing kindness despite his glum mood. Gary's awesome like that.
Robert (pronounced like "robe" and "air") was in a bit of a mood too. I'd call it a pissy mood. Robert is fun to tease (yep, I'll tease and even flirt with men who I know to be gay because for some strange reason I'm good at it) when he's in these kinds of moods so tonight I hit him with verbal jabs and complaints. He just couldn't do anything right in my eyes lolz and that only exacerbated his grumpiness.
Matt and Charlie were behind the bar tonight. DJ Vagabond and DJ B Rich were trading off at the turntables and another DJ with an armload of vinyl walked in to the bar just before I did. Teddy (the handsome chap with bulging biceps in an old school STP oil t-shirt) was bussing tables and covering the back patio.
Out on the back patio I took up a spot with Tempe, ACME and Robert aka Grumpy Smurf. Twas here that Tempe tested my Top Gun movie knowledge. Question: Who played Merlin in the movie Top Gun? Answer: Tim Fucking Robbins. Holy shit! Tim Robbins was in Top Gun? Was he in the manly man shower scene? If so, how was he manly?
Lolz, I kid (a little). Tim Robbins is awesome. His portrayal of Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption was top notch. I just can't see him being a shower stud opposite the likes of Val Kilmer and Tom Cruise.
Robert pointed out that Merlin was the name of a cb radio set. Then he mentioned he's got family back in Colorado just like me. But I don't think anybody besides me was listening.
As Tempe migrated to another table and ACME asked me to watch his beer while he went out front for a moment, a woman named Kiai ("Ki" like "sky" and "ai" like "yuh") walked up to our table and asked if she could set her drink down. Robert and I of course said it was fine and she placed her Cosmopolitan next to Robert's drink. We got to talking and I learned that Kiai had just moved out of the neighborhood owing to a dispute with her roommate over dishes not washed. She'd just come back from Vegas and her roommate ambushed her and blew up. As my uncle might say in a deadpan voice, "Two women living under the same roof and not getting along? Yeah that never happens."
Back inside the bar and Martha and Mercedes are here with three other girlfriends. They took up a spot at Table 5 and made it look great all night long.
As I passed them I ran into Tower Patty (this Patty is 1. Awesome, 2. Beautiful, 3. A former Tower Records employee) and we got to talking about the Jack's Party Bus. She was here with two of her friends and they whipped out their phones to check schedules and make plans to attend. I hope they make it!
Patty is a Jack and Coke type of woman who also likes a little Jamison on the side. She also knows DJ Vagabond through a mutual Tower acquaintance (Eric, if memory serves) and it's a small world after all, isn't it?
I catch some more air out front of the bar and notice the moon is slightly more than half full at 11:37 p.m. Then it's back inside for another beer which Charlie already had pored and waiting for me. As he passed me the beer he said he'd been waiting for me all day and that I'm a beautiful sexy bastard. Teh awesome. Thanks for the beer Charlie!
It should be noted I had to reach past Crystal, Thunder and Dego to get that beer. Thunder mentioned in a loud voice that he'd read that I'd likened him to a Klingon. Realizing I was about to die, I chose to maneuver into the line of fire (something Travis the bartender taught me, though you're supposed to have a bunch of marines at your back when you do this) and I think I said something about personally tossing Thunder across the room before he ultimately crushed me in final victory.
Then Thunder bought us all a round of shots. Thank you Thunder!
With beer from Charlie in hand at 11:51 p.m. I went back outside and counted 34 people on the patio. There I ran into Kiai again and promised to buy her another drink when her current one was finished. She said she wanted another Cosmo, with less alcohol and more juice.
Kiai went out front to meet a friend and I hung out with Pizza Jorge, Ultimate Raiders Fan Kelley and ACME. Soon Kiai returned with her long time friend Donovan, who's a handsome fellow in a late 80s, early 90s Bobby Brown sort of way. I soon learned that this was Donovan's first trip to Jack's bar. I also learned that Kiai is a Santa Cruz native. In the background I could hear Pizza Jorge talk about waiting in a line a block long for his San Francisco Giants Snuggy. Behind him the three DJs were chatting amongst themselves.
The time came for the promised drink to be delivered, so I braved the masses in the bar and caught a lucky break at the center. I slotted myself into the opening and chatted with Coco and his brother until I caught Matt's attention and ordered up the Cosmo. When Matt asked "Anything else?" I should have bought another beer, but I was distracted by the mystery woman to my right who wore blue jeans and a blue flannel over a wife beater and crossed-at-the-back suspenders. She'd just taken the flanel off and I could see a hint of red tattoo ink wrapped in blue flame over the top of her spine where her wife beater ended and her skin began. She turned towards me and I commented her on her "real" suspenders. In response she smiled, said "Yep" or words to that effect and pulled the suspender straps out with her thumbs before letting them snap back in place.
That the straps fell back on her ample breasts before curving around them to rest in place was not lost on me. My look must have communicated volumes because she looked me in the eyes, smiled a knowing smile, then grabbed her just bought drink and made for the back patio with her equally pretty friend at her side. I soon followed with the Cosmo in hand.
I delivered the drink to Kiai and didn't stay out much longer on the back patio. I knew Jack's would close it soon and not long after I walked back into the bar and took up a spot against the wall near Table 5, that's just what they did. When this happens it's a sure sigh Travis and Tall Nicole have returned from Fat Cats, as Tall Nicole stops to chat and say hello while Travis acts as another body to usher people out from the patio and keep them out.
Tall Nicole gave me a big hug and told me she'd soon be looking for another place to pick up work. Though she's not made a decision yet I made sure to tell her that if the work involved bartending then she ought to let me know so I can show up on day one, chat up the locals at the bar and make sure the owner knows Tall Nicole is the kind of bartender who is a good draw and brings in the business. And she does.
Travis, done herding cats for the moment, showed me his badass black Gibson Less Paul guitar with four knobs and faded plastic pink switch. Damn there are layers to that onion.
Thunder worked on ordering another round of shots for us all so I left my beer at Table 5 where Mercedes and Martha were having fun with their three friends. I was intercepted by a woman named Vannet (her spelling) but pronounced like "René". She was Thai or Filipino or some juicy mix of both and didn't hesitate to put hands on and in my beard, but softly. For my part I appreciated her pressing herself up against me as she did this, but then Thunder reminded her she needed to ask permission first. Lolz at that point it was all good dude. Shoo, Thunder! Shoo!
Speaking of Shoos (or rather, shoes), Crystal was having a difficult time tying hers (and blocking the path to the restrooms, squatted over as she was) so I bent over to tie her shoe. Almost instantly after she got up and went to the restroom, Ras Dank dropped his keys in the exact same spot on the floor. When you're buzzed that's a significant set of events.
I turned around and saw four beautiful women sitting at Table 4. I recognized one of them from last week, then another came up who I recognized also. At that moment I was in the vicinity of ten beautiful women at T4 and T5, with four more to my right thanks to Vanet, Crystal and two of Vanet's friends dancing with her. Sure it's Man Jose, but not at Jack's at 1:01 a.m. on Saturday morning.
Before I forget I'd like to thank the chocolate skinned woman at T3 for dancing her heart out all night long. She did the bob and weave from too much drink each time when walking to and from the restroom, then transitioned to mad dance skills that left me entranced whenever I watched her. Interesting how women can be that buzzed, yet still dance with grace and raw passion.
Tall Nicole hollered a goodbye to me YMCA style. Hands up over her head, fingers forming a heart, then her arms come down and she flips the heart over to make a pair of hand-shapped balls, as she says "I love you Jeremy you've got big balls!" before turning and walking out of the bar. :happy:
1:20 a.m. and last call is coming as ACME and I guard Table 5 by sitting at it while Mercedes and Martha walk their three friends out. For my part I spend my time tracing the lines of tattoos visible under dress straps and on the arms of the five lovely women at Table 4. It's then that I realize the bar stool I saw a woman throw down onto the floor and bust the seat off of last night is now the one I'm sitting on. Seat comes right off.
1:29 a.m. and Vagabond gives out the Last Call! yell, which Ras Dank echoes in his much louder voice. Vagabond plays What's Going On by Marvin Gaye. I totally dig how the DJs play the perfect music to wrap up the night with. Teddy busses my now empty glass out from underneath me. I tell him I wish he could fill it up and he asks what I'm drinking. I tell him and after watching him confer with Charlie I see him dodge keg tubes while ducking under the bar wing (it's still got kegs underneath it with the red cooler modified to receive bar taps sitting on it) with a new beer. Thank you Teddy!
At 1:33 a.m. B Rich takes over and I watch Vagabond dance with a beautiful woman to the sounds of California Soul (by Marlene Shaw) at Table 3.
The lights come up at 1:38 a.m. and Christian aka Monkey arrives, then is gone in a flash after saying "What's up?"
About this time the ladies at table 4 depart and I stop to thank them for coming in. Turns out I've met them before lolz. These two women are not the two women from Table 4 I recognized earlier, but Jessica and Stephanie in particular remember me from times past that I've since forgotten. (Note: these beautiful ladies are not to be confused with Marilyn Monroe or the Lady Under the Tree).
At 1:55 someone says that underwear is their savior and I finish my drink fast as I can as the bartenders and bouncers are taking no prisoners. Just then Feisty Irish walks in and swear to God my heart gets all warm inside. I smile at her and she gives me a huge hug, then straightens out my lopsided beanie. That woman is just beyond awesome.
I leave a $5 tip at the bar and say thanks to the bartenders before heading out the front door. I will end up at Thunder and Crystal's house later tonight. Poor Dego, he takes a lot of shit but he's a trooper and is perfectly willing to hurl paper airplanes through the drive-thru window at McDonalds without even having to be asked.
Still with me after all these words, Dear Reader? If so, you're a trooper too. ;)
Thanks for reading and see you Saturday night at Jack's!
"Jeremy and The Coco are husky and take up space for a reason! Dude write that in your blog OK?"
-The Coco, friendly fellow who lives on 4th and Taylor
Friday, April 23rd
As it relates to the title of this blog post: if a bartender says it then it must be true, right? ;)
Tonight's visit to Jack's was preceded by a drive home from San Francisco, where I'd just spend a pleasant evening with an aunt and uncle of mine on my Dad's side of the family. They'd come up for a coin show at the San Francisco Mint. We met up around Mission and 5th, then walked in the cold wind to Little Joe's Italian Restaurant for dinner, passing up the usual mix of locals (retail people, business people, street walkers come over from the East Bay via BART train and homeless people) and tourists along the way.
After dinner we walked up to Geary street where the aunt and uncle's hotel was situated and had a nice long conversation inside, followed by picture taking in the lobby. It was here that I learned my great grandfather on my Dad's side sent his visa back to Russia so a friend of his in the German immigrant farming community (that had failed farm-wise) could enter the United States through Galveston, Texas (did you know Galveston saw 133,000 immigrants come through? It's like the Ellis Island of the South) and make his way to Colorado to where my grandfather was staying. This man couldn't have immigrated otherwise because back then you were not permitted to enter the country without a valid visa and papers showing someone in the States had promised you a job.
The family is pretty sure Galveston was where our last name morphed from Gruinemier to Grenemyer. This also explains why certain Colorado State Sheriffs with the last name of Clay look in on my Great Uncle every now and then to pay their respects.
After goodbyes, hugs and handshakes, I left the hotel and walked back to the parking garage. The walk through that part of town was awesome. Anyone who's spent a Friday night in San Francisco will tell you the city is a blast to be in. Tonight was no different. I wonder which streets Pizza Jorge knows best? Or Miss Stephanie? Or East Side Scott?
Dressed as I was (steel toe boots, thick weave khaki work pants, layered red shirts under Oakley jacket, beard in full effect and a blue Miller Lite beanie) the homeless people panhandling for spare change only nodded at me when I looked at them, saving their requests for the people walking behind me on the sidewalk. They either feared the beard or thought I was a well-dressed homeless person lolz.
I stopped to look through the glass at rock and roll artwork and was tempted to walk in to the multi-story Rasputin Music, but I had a schedule to keep if I was to make it back in time to hit Jack's before midnight. (Lolz did you see where my glass slipper went? Can't find it.)
The drive south on 101 was fast. I must've made it to San Jose in 40 minutes and didn't even finish listening to my Squirrel Nut Zippers CD (well, it's actually Sugi's, but some things don't always change hands as they should when two people separate from each other).
Anywhoo, back in familiar territory and I chose to park in the sweet spot by El Tarrasco as it was closed this late at night and I spied some familiar faces as I got situated in my truck (recount cash on hand, Crapberry in pocket for note taking inside the bar, make sure fly is zipped, etc...). Gary was standing out front and that's a rare sighting right there. Ras Dank was on the door and Robert was to his side.
I said hello to all of them as I walked up to the door and Gary pulled out $3 bucks and gave it to me for my first drink of the night. Gary: you fucking rock dude. Thank you! Gary seemed a bit down as his lady was off to a bachelorette party, but he was with friends and still showing kindness despite his glum mood. Gary's awesome like that.
Robert (pronounced like "robe" and "air") was in a bit of a mood too. I'd call it a pissy mood. Robert is fun to tease (yep, I'll tease and even flirt with men who I know to be gay because for some strange reason I'm good at it) when he's in these kinds of moods so tonight I hit him with verbal jabs and complaints. He just couldn't do anything right in my eyes lolz and that only exacerbated his grumpiness.
Matt and Charlie were behind the bar tonight. DJ Vagabond and DJ B Rich were trading off at the turntables and another DJ with an armload of vinyl walked in to the bar just before I did. Teddy (the handsome chap with bulging biceps in an old school STP oil t-shirt) was bussing tables and covering the back patio.
Out on the back patio I took up a spot with Tempe, ACME and Robert aka Grumpy Smurf. Twas here that Tempe tested my Top Gun movie knowledge. Question: Who played Merlin in the movie Top Gun? Answer: Tim Fucking Robbins. Holy shit! Tim Robbins was in Top Gun? Was he in the manly man shower scene? If so, how was he manly?
Lolz, I kid (a little). Tim Robbins is awesome. His portrayal of Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption was top notch. I just can't see him being a shower stud opposite the likes of Val Kilmer and Tom Cruise.
Robert pointed out that Merlin was the name of a cb radio set. Then he mentioned he's got family back in Colorado just like me. But I don't think anybody besides me was listening.
As Tempe migrated to another table and ACME asked me to watch his beer while he went out front for a moment, a woman named Kiai ("Ki" like "sky" and "ai" like "yuh") walked up to our table and asked if she could set her drink down. Robert and I of course said it was fine and she placed her Cosmopolitan next to Robert's drink. We got to talking and I learned that Kiai had just moved out of the neighborhood owing to a dispute with her roommate over dishes not washed. She'd just come back from Vegas and her roommate ambushed her and blew up. As my uncle might say in a deadpan voice, "Two women living under the same roof and not getting along? Yeah that never happens."
Back inside the bar and Martha and Mercedes are here with three other girlfriends. They took up a spot at Table 5 and made it look great all night long.
As I passed them I ran into Tower Patty (this Patty is 1. Awesome, 2. Beautiful, 3. A former Tower Records employee) and we got to talking about the Jack's Party Bus. She was here with two of her friends and they whipped out their phones to check schedules and make plans to attend. I hope they make it!
Patty is a Jack and Coke type of woman who also likes a little Jamison on the side. She also knows DJ Vagabond through a mutual Tower acquaintance (Eric, if memory serves) and it's a small world after all, isn't it?
I catch some more air out front of the bar and notice the moon is slightly more than half full at 11:37 p.m. Then it's back inside for another beer which Charlie already had pored and waiting for me. As he passed me the beer he said he'd been waiting for me all day and that I'm a beautiful sexy bastard. Teh awesome. Thanks for the beer Charlie!
It should be noted I had to reach past Crystal, Thunder and Dego to get that beer. Thunder mentioned in a loud voice that he'd read that I'd likened him to a Klingon. Realizing I was about to die, I chose to maneuver into the line of fire (something Travis the bartender taught me, though you're supposed to have a bunch of marines at your back when you do this) and I think I said something about personally tossing Thunder across the room before he ultimately crushed me in final victory.
Then Thunder bought us all a round of shots. Thank you Thunder!
With beer from Charlie in hand at 11:51 p.m. I went back outside and counted 34 people on the patio. There I ran into Kiai again and promised to buy her another drink when her current one was finished. She said she wanted another Cosmo, with less alcohol and more juice.
Kiai went out front to meet a friend and I hung out with Pizza Jorge, Ultimate Raiders Fan Kelley and ACME. Soon Kiai returned with her long time friend Donovan, who's a handsome fellow in a late 80s, early 90s Bobby Brown sort of way. I soon learned that this was Donovan's first trip to Jack's bar. I also learned that Kiai is a Santa Cruz native. In the background I could hear Pizza Jorge talk about waiting in a line a block long for his San Francisco Giants Snuggy. Behind him the three DJs were chatting amongst themselves.
The time came for the promised drink to be delivered, so I braved the masses in the bar and caught a lucky break at the center. I slotted myself into the opening and chatted with Coco and his brother until I caught Matt's attention and ordered up the Cosmo. When Matt asked "Anything else?" I should have bought another beer, but I was distracted by the mystery woman to my right who wore blue jeans and a blue flannel over a wife beater and crossed-at-the-back suspenders. She'd just taken the flanel off and I could see a hint of red tattoo ink wrapped in blue flame over the top of her spine where her wife beater ended and her skin began. She turned towards me and I commented her on her "real" suspenders. In response she smiled, said "Yep" or words to that effect and pulled the suspender straps out with her thumbs before letting them snap back in place.
That the straps fell back on her ample breasts before curving around them to rest in place was not lost on me. My look must have communicated volumes because she looked me in the eyes, smiled a knowing smile, then grabbed her just bought drink and made for the back patio with her equally pretty friend at her side. I soon followed with the Cosmo in hand.
I delivered the drink to Kiai and didn't stay out much longer on the back patio. I knew Jack's would close it soon and not long after I walked back into the bar and took up a spot against the wall near Table 5, that's just what they did. When this happens it's a sure sigh Travis and Tall Nicole have returned from Fat Cats, as Tall Nicole stops to chat and say hello while Travis acts as another body to usher people out from the patio and keep them out.
Tall Nicole gave me a big hug and told me she'd soon be looking for another place to pick up work. Though she's not made a decision yet I made sure to tell her that if the work involved bartending then she ought to let me know so I can show up on day one, chat up the locals at the bar and make sure the owner knows Tall Nicole is the kind of bartender who is a good draw and brings in the business. And she does.
Travis, done herding cats for the moment, showed me his badass black Gibson Less Paul guitar with four knobs and faded plastic pink switch. Damn there are layers to that onion.
Thunder worked on ordering another round of shots for us all so I left my beer at Table 5 where Mercedes and Martha were having fun with their three friends. I was intercepted by a woman named Vannet (her spelling) but pronounced like "René". She was Thai or Filipino or some juicy mix of both and didn't hesitate to put hands on and in my beard, but softly. For my part I appreciated her pressing herself up against me as she did this, but then Thunder reminded her she needed to ask permission first. Lolz at that point it was all good dude. Shoo, Thunder! Shoo!
Speaking of Shoos (or rather, shoes), Crystal was having a difficult time tying hers (and blocking the path to the restrooms, squatted over as she was) so I bent over to tie her shoe. Almost instantly after she got up and went to the restroom, Ras Dank dropped his keys in the exact same spot on the floor. When you're buzzed that's a significant set of events.
I turned around and saw four beautiful women sitting at Table 4. I recognized one of them from last week, then another came up who I recognized also. At that moment I was in the vicinity of ten beautiful women at T4 and T5, with four more to my right thanks to Vanet, Crystal and two of Vanet's friends dancing with her. Sure it's Man Jose, but not at Jack's at 1:01 a.m. on Saturday morning.
Before I forget I'd like to thank the chocolate skinned woman at T3 for dancing her heart out all night long. She did the bob and weave from too much drink each time when walking to and from the restroom, then transitioned to mad dance skills that left me entranced whenever I watched her. Interesting how women can be that buzzed, yet still dance with grace and raw passion.
Tall Nicole hollered a goodbye to me YMCA style. Hands up over her head, fingers forming a heart, then her arms come down and she flips the heart over to make a pair of hand-shapped balls, as she says "I love you Jeremy you've got big balls!" before turning and walking out of the bar. :happy:
1:20 a.m. and last call is coming as ACME and I guard Table 5 by sitting at it while Mercedes and Martha walk their three friends out. For my part I spend my time tracing the lines of tattoos visible under dress straps and on the arms of the five lovely women at Table 4. It's then that I realize the bar stool I saw a woman throw down onto the floor and bust the seat off of last night is now the one I'm sitting on. Seat comes right off.
1:29 a.m. and Vagabond gives out the Last Call! yell, which Ras Dank echoes in his much louder voice. Vagabond plays What's Going On by Marvin Gaye. I totally dig how the DJs play the perfect music to wrap up the night with. Teddy busses my now empty glass out from underneath me. I tell him I wish he could fill it up and he asks what I'm drinking. I tell him and after watching him confer with Charlie I see him dodge keg tubes while ducking under the bar wing (it's still got kegs underneath it with the red cooler modified to receive bar taps sitting on it) with a new beer. Thank you Teddy!
At 1:33 a.m. B Rich takes over and I watch Vagabond dance with a beautiful woman to the sounds of California Soul (by Marlene Shaw) at Table 3.
The lights come up at 1:38 a.m. and Christian aka Monkey arrives, then is gone in a flash after saying "What's up?"
About this time the ladies at table 4 depart and I stop to thank them for coming in. Turns out I've met them before lolz. These two women are not the two women from Table 4 I recognized earlier, but Jessica and Stephanie in particular remember me from times past that I've since forgotten. (Note: these beautiful ladies are not to be confused with Marilyn Monroe or the Lady Under the Tree).
At 1:55 someone says that underwear is their savior and I finish my drink fast as I can as the bartenders and bouncers are taking no prisoners. Just then Feisty Irish walks in and swear to God my heart gets all warm inside. I smile at her and she gives me a huge hug, then straightens out my lopsided beanie. That woman is just beyond awesome.
I leave a $5 tip at the bar and say thanks to the bartenders before heading out the front door. I will end up at Thunder and Crystal's house later tonight. Poor Dego, he takes a lot of shit but he's a trooper and is perfectly willing to hurl paper airplanes through the drive-thru window at McDonalds without even having to be asked.
Still with me after all these words, Dear Reader? If so, you're a trooper too. ;)
Thanks for reading and see you Saturday night at Jack's!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Day 109 - Ras Dank = Bingy Rebel! And Shift Changes
Monday, April 19th
Holy Week Off From Writing the Blog, Batman!
Being King of the Slackers is easy. The Slacker King doesn't occupy a throne. Instead you lounge on a couch that's been liberally dusted with food crumbs, loose change and various detritus found in the residence of bachelors.
The heaviest thing you have to lift on the King's Couch is the universal remote.
The only drawback is that when you're King you only have enough energy to go to work (not actually work at work; more like just show up and collect a paycheck) and then visit the bar. Blogging is just asking too much.
I'd love it if they had a King's Couch at Jack's, but I'm sure I'd have to share it with other pretenders to the throne. Now if it was only the King and bar babes in waiting that were allowed on the Couch, well...
Heh, back to reality.
9:25 a.m.
Monday's trip to Jack's started with a side trip to the bank for cash. No sooner had I thought "cash" then my brain brought up the memory of the dude loaded up on drugs who tried to rob Bruce Willis' character in The 5th Element and how all he kept saying was "give me the caaaaaash" while he tried to hold his gun steady.
That movie was and continues to be awesome by the way (and was #3 on Jessica's Top Five movies of all time: see Day 67).
9:39 a.m.
A text from Wendee aka Rosicrucian: her niece found a date for the prom! Not sure why she texted that to me, but I'm reasonably certain she's proud and excited. The Coleman Shopping Center (where my bank is located) was all lit up like a shopping center meant to be used in the movie Collateral (long time readers of this blog know nighttime San Jose makes me think of that movie all the time).
9:44 a.m.
Parked in the sweet spot, but have the urge not to turn the key just yet as I listen to the BBC World Service on National Public Radio. Those English accents are awesome...ever notice how each reporter's accent is just a little different than the host's? Funny, I've never heard a cockney accent yet. I listen as news of accusations against Goldman Sachs are detailed and a careful analysis of "the American market" is made. I watch a dude ride by on a white bike, with some thin green glowing plastic tube wrapped around and around the frame of his bike, like the line from a weed whacker turned radioactive. He waits at the 4th and Taylor light for his bike friends, who are all shades of green and flashing red and blue lights. Cool.
9:46 a.m.
I see Christian aka Monkey walking from Der Wienerschnitzel with food in hand. He tells me he's headed home from the bar and I tell him I'm headed inside the bar. That's what I call a shift change.
Inside: Rina behind the bar, Travis at the door, Ras Dank on the turntables, KC chilling at the bar and Jerry is to my right as I take a seat at the center of the bar. He smells good as ever and I know as soon as I shake his hand that the smell will stay with me. As hand smells go, this one's not bad at all.
Rina served up a beer fast and quick, then Jerry bought us a round of shots while Rina told Jerry the story of thrice ripped pants at three consecutive birthday parties. I suggested she purchase a pair of Chuck Norris Action Jeans, but the idea did not go over very well. Travis notes that the men lucky enough to glimpse Rina's derrière prior to her covering up probably filed that memory away in the spank bank.
Then the conversation took a turn which I will opt not to relate, save to opine in response to Rina's statement that yeah, I guess I could see a guy saying that to a hot bartender.
Leaving that conversation behind, I moved over to the turntables where Patty was unpacking food she'd just bought for her and Dank. I gave Patty a warm hug and asked her what size Captain Morgan bottle she wanted (Small? Large? Costco Über Bottle?) and she said what with school and all that might not be a good idea. Then I suggested something by Tony Bordain and she warmes right up to the notion. She said he's like a good cast iron skillet because he's well seasoned (i.e., very experienced). Patty, that was some kick ass word play, let me tell you.
Outside with Patty and Travis tells the tale of his and Caitlin's (that's the Irish spelling of her name btw; and thanks Patty and Travis for the assist and the callback - you know what I'm talking about) efforts to TP Jeff's room from outside his door. Then I watch Leonardo da Vinci walk by with food from Der Wienerschnitzel. I miss Leo. Haven't seen him in awhile at the bar.
Wendee calls me up and I call her back 'cause I missed her call. After the conversation ends I see Joaquin walk into the bar alone (no Francesca with him :sigh: she's damn pretty). Inside the bar Ras Dank is absolutely tearing it up on the turntables. Everything he plays speaks to my soul and makes this bearded white man want to dance a jig (God forbid - besides, I'm saving learning how to dance for next year's resolution). Joaquin sits next to his friend Sergio and I see that they're like old buddies, which it turns out they are.
Jerry makes to leave and Rina produces a mini-flashlight for him to read by. It's even smaller than the flashlight I see Travis use from time to time at the door.
10:35 a.m.
23 people in the bar. Tables 1, 2 and 4 are occupied and the bar itself is pretty full. At this point I make the mistake of asking Patty if the woman at the corner of the bar (and about two seats from me) is not in fact a transvestite. Joaquin turns away from Sergio long enough look over Patti's shoulder and inform me that my question was said in too loud a voice. Then Patti indicates I've done the old foot in mouth move. Yikes, time to go outside and live that one down!
Outside the air is perfect. It's fresh, tinged with the expectation of rain to come soon. The air isn't cold, but it's not warm either. I notice a couple come in. He's white, she's black and is carrying a black camera with a long lens. They sit at table 3 and later tonight he'd stand outside and take pictures of the entrance to the bar. I think James aka Bang-Bang! Kla-Klow! and I may have surreptitiously flipped him off.
11:09 a.m.
Patty and I finally find seats at the bar (a couple basically stole our spot from us earlier) and she tells me her sludge battle story (sorry for your suede coat loss!) and then ACME arrives with Katie and BB!KK!
11:23 a.m.
The wind picks up and blows west to east now. Back inside I chat with KC and he points out that the "Bingy Rebel" I hear being sung/spoken over the sound of the music is his and Ras Dank's crew. Fricking awesome! Come visit on a Monday night Dear Reader, it's worth the trip! Anyways, Ras Dank was only getting better by this point. It should also be noted that, as dudes go, KC is one handsome dude.
11:38 a.m.
Five new arrivals puts the head count at 36 strong and Rina is in ping pong ball mode behind the bar, moving from end to end but never quite stopping for long.
On the flat screens it's all Iron Man 2 commercials and Bully Beatdown episodes.
Outside again and Benny hugs Patty goodbye just after Katie commented on the nice car in front of the bar, which Benny gets into and peels out as he shoots up the street. Then Patty causes me to experience severe phone envy as she shows me her shotgun application for her phone, then her lightsaber app, her ping pong app and her target practice app.
My current phone is going to need an app(lication) for unemployment once my next free service upgrade arrives.
12:05 a.m.
I watch an elderly man walking down Taylor in the same direction the wind is blowing. He has a work uniform jacket on and is carrying a lunch bag from a strap on his shoulder. I remind myself to have fun and drink at the bar, sure, but also to try and not forget the world around me, if I can help it.
Patty tries to walk inside and runs right into a small woman in a dress, brown jacket and matching boots. She's very pretty (I almost used "hella" instead of "pretty" but managed to avoid it, even though the usage would be correct in this instance and [factoid] the word "hella" originated in the Hunter's Point neighborhood of San Francisco). Her date/boyfriend/whatever is outside waiting and she holds her arms up over her head like she was when she first walked out and she asks him rhetorically, "God how can I get any more slender?" as they proceed around the corner of Amy's Salon towards the Der Wiener parking lot, her arms still up in the air.
12:11 a.m.
Someone left the sink running and backed up in the men's restroom. I turn the sink off but save the backup for a braver soul than I (that is, someone who gets paid to unclog sinks). In the hallway I notice a bar towel hanging on the middle hook of the coat rack by the back exit, while a dude from the bar walks into the restroom, beer in hand. Gross.
12:20 a.m.
I'm already out later than I should be. I say my farewells, get teased by Joaquin and ACME (no, the reason I'm leaving is not because of a booty call lolz), then pause a moment outside after Travis warns me of SJPD rolling by with no lights. They end up catching someone almost instantly (not from the bar, mind, rather someone speeding by the looks of it).
Curtiss arrives on his bike so I say hello to him and shake his hand as he locks his ride up. I think to myself that this is another good shift change as I walk across the street to my truck.
Another day done. Another Jack's visit in the books.
See you Tuesday at Jack's, Dear Reader.
Oh, and GO SHARKS!!!
Holy Week Off From Writing the Blog, Batman!
Being King of the Slackers is easy. The Slacker King doesn't occupy a throne. Instead you lounge on a couch that's been liberally dusted with food crumbs, loose change and various detritus found in the residence of bachelors.
The heaviest thing you have to lift on the King's Couch is the universal remote.
The only drawback is that when you're King you only have enough energy to go to work (not actually work at work; more like just show up and collect a paycheck) and then visit the bar. Blogging is just asking too much.
I'd love it if they had a King's Couch at Jack's, but I'm sure I'd have to share it with other pretenders to the throne. Now if it was only the King and bar babes in waiting that were allowed on the Couch, well...
Heh, back to reality.
9:25 a.m.
Monday's trip to Jack's started with a side trip to the bank for cash. No sooner had I thought "cash" then my brain brought up the memory of the dude loaded up on drugs who tried to rob Bruce Willis' character in The 5th Element and how all he kept saying was "give me the caaaaaash" while he tried to hold his gun steady.
That movie was and continues to be awesome by the way (and was #3 on Jessica's Top Five movies of all time: see Day 67).
9:39 a.m.
A text from Wendee aka Rosicrucian: her niece found a date for the prom! Not sure why she texted that to me, but I'm reasonably certain she's proud and excited. The Coleman Shopping Center (where my bank is located) was all lit up like a shopping center meant to be used in the movie Collateral (long time readers of this blog know nighttime San Jose makes me think of that movie all the time).
9:44 a.m.
Parked in the sweet spot, but have the urge not to turn the key just yet as I listen to the BBC World Service on National Public Radio. Those English accents are awesome...ever notice how each reporter's accent is just a little different than the host's? Funny, I've never heard a cockney accent yet. I listen as news of accusations against Goldman Sachs are detailed and a careful analysis of "the American market" is made. I watch a dude ride by on a white bike, with some thin green glowing plastic tube wrapped around and around the frame of his bike, like the line from a weed whacker turned radioactive. He waits at the 4th and Taylor light for his bike friends, who are all shades of green and flashing red and blue lights. Cool.
9:46 a.m.
I see Christian aka Monkey walking from Der Wienerschnitzel with food in hand. He tells me he's headed home from the bar and I tell him I'm headed inside the bar. That's what I call a shift change.
Inside: Rina behind the bar, Travis at the door, Ras Dank on the turntables, KC chilling at the bar and Jerry is to my right as I take a seat at the center of the bar. He smells good as ever and I know as soon as I shake his hand that the smell will stay with me. As hand smells go, this one's not bad at all.
Rina served up a beer fast and quick, then Jerry bought us a round of shots while Rina told Jerry the story of thrice ripped pants at three consecutive birthday parties. I suggested she purchase a pair of Chuck Norris Action Jeans, but the idea did not go over very well. Travis notes that the men lucky enough to glimpse Rina's derrière prior to her covering up probably filed that memory away in the spank bank.
Then the conversation took a turn which I will opt not to relate, save to opine in response to Rina's statement that yeah, I guess I could see a guy saying that to a hot bartender.
Leaving that conversation behind, I moved over to the turntables where Patty was unpacking food she'd just bought for her and Dank. I gave Patty a warm hug and asked her what size Captain Morgan bottle she wanted (Small? Large? Costco Über Bottle?) and she said what with school and all that might not be a good idea. Then I suggested something by Tony Bordain and she warmes right up to the notion. She said he's like a good cast iron skillet because he's well seasoned (i.e., very experienced). Patty, that was some kick ass word play, let me tell you.
Outside with Patty and Travis tells the tale of his and Caitlin's (that's the Irish spelling of her name btw; and thanks Patty and Travis for the assist and the callback - you know what I'm talking about) efforts to TP Jeff's room from outside his door. Then I watch Leonardo da Vinci walk by with food from Der Wienerschnitzel. I miss Leo. Haven't seen him in awhile at the bar.
Wendee calls me up and I call her back 'cause I missed her call. After the conversation ends I see Joaquin walk into the bar alone (no Francesca with him :sigh: she's damn pretty). Inside the bar Ras Dank is absolutely tearing it up on the turntables. Everything he plays speaks to my soul and makes this bearded white man want to dance a jig (God forbid - besides, I'm saving learning how to dance for next year's resolution). Joaquin sits next to his friend Sergio and I see that they're like old buddies, which it turns out they are.
Jerry makes to leave and Rina produces a mini-flashlight for him to read by. It's even smaller than the flashlight I see Travis use from time to time at the door.
10:35 a.m.
23 people in the bar. Tables 1, 2 and 4 are occupied and the bar itself is pretty full. At this point I make the mistake of asking Patty if the woman at the corner of the bar (and about two seats from me) is not in fact a transvestite. Joaquin turns away from Sergio long enough look over Patti's shoulder and inform me that my question was said in too loud a voice. Then Patti indicates I've done the old foot in mouth move. Yikes, time to go outside and live that one down!
Outside the air is perfect. It's fresh, tinged with the expectation of rain to come soon. The air isn't cold, but it's not warm either. I notice a couple come in. He's white, she's black and is carrying a black camera with a long lens. They sit at table 3 and later tonight he'd stand outside and take pictures of the entrance to the bar. I think James aka Bang-Bang! Kla-Klow! and I may have surreptitiously flipped him off.
11:09 a.m.
Patty and I finally find seats at the bar (a couple basically stole our spot from us earlier) and she tells me her sludge battle story (sorry for your suede coat loss!) and then ACME arrives with Katie and BB!KK!
11:23 a.m.
The wind picks up and blows west to east now. Back inside I chat with KC and he points out that the "Bingy Rebel" I hear being sung/spoken over the sound of the music is his and Ras Dank's crew. Fricking awesome! Come visit on a Monday night Dear Reader, it's worth the trip! Anyways, Ras Dank was only getting better by this point. It should also be noted that, as dudes go, KC is one handsome dude.
11:38 a.m.
Five new arrivals puts the head count at 36 strong and Rina is in ping pong ball mode behind the bar, moving from end to end but never quite stopping for long.
On the flat screens it's all Iron Man 2 commercials and Bully Beatdown episodes.
Outside again and Benny hugs Patty goodbye just after Katie commented on the nice car in front of the bar, which Benny gets into and peels out as he shoots up the street. Then Patty causes me to experience severe phone envy as she shows me her shotgun application for her phone, then her lightsaber app, her ping pong app and her target practice app.
My current phone is going to need an app(lication) for unemployment once my next free service upgrade arrives.
12:05 a.m.
I watch an elderly man walking down Taylor in the same direction the wind is blowing. He has a work uniform jacket on and is carrying a lunch bag from a strap on his shoulder. I remind myself to have fun and drink at the bar, sure, but also to try and not forget the world around me, if I can help it.
Patty tries to walk inside and runs right into a small woman in a dress, brown jacket and matching boots. She's very pretty (I almost used "hella" instead of "pretty" but managed to avoid it, even though the usage would be correct in this instance and [factoid] the word "hella" originated in the Hunter's Point neighborhood of San Francisco). Her date/boyfriend/whatever is outside waiting and she holds her arms up over her head like she was when she first walked out and she asks him rhetorically, "God how can I get any more slender?" as they proceed around the corner of Amy's Salon towards the Der Wiener parking lot, her arms still up in the air.
12:11 a.m.
Someone left the sink running and backed up in the men's restroom. I turn the sink off but save the backup for a braver soul than I (that is, someone who gets paid to unclog sinks). In the hallway I notice a bar towel hanging on the middle hook of the coat rack by the back exit, while a dude from the bar walks into the restroom, beer in hand. Gross.
12:20 a.m.
I'm already out later than I should be. I say my farewells, get teased by Joaquin and ACME (no, the reason I'm leaving is not because of a booty call lolz), then pause a moment outside after Travis warns me of SJPD rolling by with no lights. They end up catching someone almost instantly (not from the bar, mind, rather someone speeding by the looks of it).
Curtiss arrives on his bike so I say hello to him and shake his hand as he locks his ride up. I think to myself that this is another good shift change as I walk across the street to my truck.
Another day done. Another Jack's visit in the books.
See you Tuesday at Jack's, Dear Reader.
Oh, and GO SHARKS!!!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Day 101 - I'm Going To Have Fun With This
As the title. Keep your grain of salt handy.
Sunday, April 11th, 2010
A wet and rainy trip to Jack's bar on Sunday afternoon. I surmised as I drove to the bar that I'd soon be reading many a Facebook status update that included such from-the-heart comments as "so long rain, we're tired of you" or "goodbye rain, we've had enough thanks" or "hey rain: fucking go away already!" and so on.
I knew from earlier in the day when I'd passed by Jack's while running errands that the door to the bar would be closed and the wooden sign would not be out on the curb. But as I approached the bar I could see that the big red neon sign above the bar was still lit up and--like a lighthouse glimpsed through the wash of tumultuous waves and blinding rain--it gave me strength by its light to know I was near enough to civilization that I could entertain some small hope of accessing its many benefits (namely: beer) provided I could just make it through the final few blocks of a harrowing journey down Taylor's rain-soaked, festooned-with-idiots-who-should-not-be-driving streets.
That's not to say there are no careful drivers in San Jose. It's just that at this particular time of day all the sensible people (as opposed to those with no practical experience driving in a millimeter or more of rain) were no doubt lounging inside their homes, all warm and comfy in Cookie Monster slippers and Uggs (admit it Dear Reader: you wear your Uggs indoors), secure in the knowledge that to go outside and drive would only invite the worst kind of disaster.
Were that I were one of these smarter than average people.
Nevertheless, I dodged trucks driven by individuals perhaps suffering from a case of sudden onset in-the-rain-only colorblindness (that is, colorblind to red and yellow, such that when viewing same they see it as green in the color of "go"). How else to explain seperate instances of these people's ability to drive serenely through the intersections of 10th and 11th Streets while facing a red light?
This fear of rain might explain their deafness at my horn (for they didn't dodge at all when I nearly rammed them), as well their seeming tunnel vision, for not a one stopped to observe me sticking my hand out of my window, middle finger pointed helpfully up at the street light they'd just driven under in order to indicate that, if they'd just take a second look, perhaps they might see they'd misread the light entirely.
Unpleasant things happen in threes, or so the saying goes (or perhaps not, I'm not 100% sure on that point). So from 9th Street onward I was gifted with a recalcitrant bus driver who extended the concept of personal space to encompass the entirety of the bus he or she was driving to include a good 30 feet around, above and below said machine.
Not only did he or she proceed at a speed sure to out-slow a centenarian with a walker, but his or her ability to pull over in a line parallel with the curb was entirely missing from his or her driving vocabulary today.
He or she must have read my cursing-at-him-or-her-in-three-languages lips -- in the Bay Area while driving you should always curse in as many languages as possible in order to ensure the target of your ire understands just what you're trying to communicate to them -- or perhaps he or she witnessed my gesticulating hand, which I hadn't yet entirely returned to the interior of my truck, cold and wet though said hand might be, for as soon as I attempted to pass the bus, the driver --no doubt with pointy canines showing in a devilish Cheshire cat grin sure to terrify any passenger unfortunate enough to see such a grin in the wide, I-can-see-you-misbehaving-inside-my-bus-mirror-- sprung his or her trap and swiftly pulled out into the street without turning on his or her blinker, nearly clipping the back of my truck and sending me into a tailspin in the process.
Some blocks later and having pulled over to the curb in front of Jack's I suppose if you were me then you might imagine yourself suffering a moment of apoplectic, shaky-handed fits. But not us Dear Reader, for we are made of sturner stuff than that!
(Well, you might be, but I'm not actually. It's just that I can put aside the shakes for a later time, knowing I can save the jerky, trauma induced energy for such useful activities as chopping vegetables and scrubbing toilets [and no, before you ask, I've yet to lose a finger]).
Cowboy-ish hat on my head, I jumped out of my truck and made for the bar door with all the haste of a cat trying to escape the backyard pool it was just deliberately tossed into. Inside the bar Rina (the bartender, for those of you just joining us) had dimmed the lights and turned up the volume of the basketball game between the Lakers and Portland, if memory serves. Her boyfriend and his friend sat at Table 3, while a couple sat at the end of the bar.
I sat down a few seats up from the corner of the bar, instinctively placing myself right under the ceiling heater vent and at the nexus of the sound system. About then I noticed that for every flat screen TV in the bar, there is one table along the back wall of the bar. Thus, five tables and five TVs. If we count TVs like we have in the past counted tables (table closest to the entrance is Table 1, the table near the hallway in back is Table 5) then it was in front of TV 2 which I sat, and which the game was on.
I should like to take this opportunity to thank Rina for serving me a belated birthday beer: THANK YOU!
Andy Garcia's I'm-not-as-sexy-as-Antonio-Banderas-but-I-won't-ever-stop-trying-to-outdo-him voice was narrating some sort of LA Lakers feel good team moment during intermission. About this time Rina was busily creating two Bloody Maries. When I commented on how long they take to make, she commented that good Bloody Maries require the use of more than the simple, staid ingredients one might find on-hand for use in other drinks that must be made swiftly on very busy nights at bar.
Upon completion of the V8-colored drinks (to my eyes only, mind, for I do not whish to offend the drink maker by comparing her creations to such a base thing as V8 juice even though I just did), Rina kindly offered me two very small samples of each drink (in very small glasses I'd never even seen before at the bar -- how small, you ask? Well, each glass was about the size of glass you'd expect to serve a hobbit with in the very unlikely event such a creature walked into the even more unlikely edifice of a hobbit bar and ordered a double shot of whiskey for himself and his hobbit friends) in order to see if I could taste the difference between the two, as one was made with Hangar One Chipotle and the other with Ketel One.
As it happens my inexperienced tongue could indeed tell the difference, which is to say the Kettle One tasted better inasmuch as it didn't attempt to ignite several small fires in my mouth like the Chipotle did.
After serving said drinks to the couple at the end of the bar, Rina busied herself with a thorough cleaning out of the surf and turf containers. For my part, I attempted to emulate the spirit of the "Only You Can Prevent Forrest Fires" motto by liberally dousing my flaming tongue with beer.
Fortunately Rina already had my second beer pored and served before I'd taken the last swallow of my first.
(Serious moment: service like that is beyond awesome. Just as you are finishing, another comes your way. Simply. Fricking. Awesome.)
By 2:30 of this wet and dreary day the headcount in the bar had increased to seven + the bartender, with the arrival of Old School Doug and a compatriot of Lorenzo's (thus, three people at Table 3 and four people at the bar proper).
When asked, Rina was kind enough to fill me in on the details of the Giants vs. A's Party Bus that Jack's is hosting May 22nd next month. She also told me a story of what it was like during the first ever Jack's party bus. Both she and Jordan had to tend bar for the bus crowd at the bar before all of them left on said bus for the game, which is to say everyone had a massive head start before jumping on the bus for the pre-planned head start such busses are meant to provide.
I admit I should have liked to have been one of those lucky few who rallied around Rina's call to knock out a whole bottle of Vodka (or was it Tequila?), with open mouths and a willingness to let her poor the bottle contents into them. She indicated several people hurled friendly Fuck You!s at her after swallow-gasping their allotted portion of the bottle down their throats, but I don't think I could ever bring myself to say that, even if it was a bottle of Bloody Mary mix.
Party Bus details follow:
Cost is right around $67 dollars (cash only).
Sign up at the bar.
Cost includes beer, BBQ, ticket and of course the ride up and back.
Spaces are still open but are also going fast!
And of course I'll be on that bus. Wouldn't miss it for the world.
Let's just hope the bus driver understands the concept of parallel lines and blinkers.
See you Monday at Jack's!
Sunday, April 11th, 2010
A wet and rainy trip to Jack's bar on Sunday afternoon. I surmised as I drove to the bar that I'd soon be reading many a Facebook status update that included such from-the-heart comments as "so long rain, we're tired of you" or "goodbye rain, we've had enough thanks" or "hey rain: fucking go away already!" and so on.
I knew from earlier in the day when I'd passed by Jack's while running errands that the door to the bar would be closed and the wooden sign would not be out on the curb. But as I approached the bar I could see that the big red neon sign above the bar was still lit up and--like a lighthouse glimpsed through the wash of tumultuous waves and blinding rain--it gave me strength by its light to know I was near enough to civilization that I could entertain some small hope of accessing its many benefits (namely: beer) provided I could just make it through the final few blocks of a harrowing journey down Taylor's rain-soaked, festooned-with-idiots-who-should-not-be-driving streets.
That's not to say there are no careful drivers in San Jose. It's just that at this particular time of day all the sensible people (as opposed to those with no practical experience driving in a millimeter or more of rain) were no doubt lounging inside their homes, all warm and comfy in Cookie Monster slippers and Uggs (admit it Dear Reader: you wear your Uggs indoors), secure in the knowledge that to go outside and drive would only invite the worst kind of disaster.
Were that I were one of these smarter than average people.
Nevertheless, I dodged trucks driven by individuals perhaps suffering from a case of sudden onset in-the-rain-only colorblindness (that is, colorblind to red and yellow, such that when viewing same they see it as green in the color of "go"). How else to explain seperate instances of these people's ability to drive serenely through the intersections of 10th and 11th Streets while facing a red light?
This fear of rain might explain their deafness at my horn (for they didn't dodge at all when I nearly rammed them), as well their seeming tunnel vision, for not a one stopped to observe me sticking my hand out of my window, middle finger pointed helpfully up at the street light they'd just driven under in order to indicate that, if they'd just take a second look, perhaps they might see they'd misread the light entirely.
Unpleasant things happen in threes, or so the saying goes (or perhaps not, I'm not 100% sure on that point). So from 9th Street onward I was gifted with a recalcitrant bus driver who extended the concept of personal space to encompass the entirety of the bus he or she was driving to include a good 30 feet around, above and below said machine.
Not only did he or she proceed at a speed sure to out-slow a centenarian with a walker, but his or her ability to pull over in a line parallel with the curb was entirely missing from his or her driving vocabulary today.
He or she must have read my cursing-at-him-or-her-in-three-languages lips -- in the Bay Area while driving you should always curse in as many languages as possible in order to ensure the target of your ire understands just what you're trying to communicate to them -- or perhaps he or she witnessed my gesticulating hand, which I hadn't yet entirely returned to the interior of my truck, cold and wet though said hand might be, for as soon as I attempted to pass the bus, the driver --no doubt with pointy canines showing in a devilish Cheshire cat grin sure to terrify any passenger unfortunate enough to see such a grin in the wide, I-can-see-you-misbehaving-inside-my-bus-mirror-- sprung his or her trap and swiftly pulled out into the street without turning on his or her blinker, nearly clipping the back of my truck and sending me into a tailspin in the process.
Some blocks later and having pulled over to the curb in front of Jack's I suppose if you were me then you might imagine yourself suffering a moment of apoplectic, shaky-handed fits. But not us Dear Reader, for we are made of sturner stuff than that!
(Well, you might be, but I'm not actually. It's just that I can put aside the shakes for a later time, knowing I can save the jerky, trauma induced energy for such useful activities as chopping vegetables and scrubbing toilets [and no, before you ask, I've yet to lose a finger]).
Cowboy-ish hat on my head, I jumped out of my truck and made for the bar door with all the haste of a cat trying to escape the backyard pool it was just deliberately tossed into. Inside the bar Rina (the bartender, for those of you just joining us) had dimmed the lights and turned up the volume of the basketball game between the Lakers and Portland, if memory serves. Her boyfriend and his friend sat at Table 3, while a couple sat at the end of the bar.
I sat down a few seats up from the corner of the bar, instinctively placing myself right under the ceiling heater vent and at the nexus of the sound system. About then I noticed that for every flat screen TV in the bar, there is one table along the back wall of the bar. Thus, five tables and five TVs. If we count TVs like we have in the past counted tables (table closest to the entrance is Table 1, the table near the hallway in back is Table 5) then it was in front of TV 2 which I sat, and which the game was on.
I should like to take this opportunity to thank Rina for serving me a belated birthday beer: THANK YOU!
Andy Garcia's I'm-not-as-sexy-as-Antonio-Banderas-but-I-won't-ever-stop-trying-to-outdo-him voice was narrating some sort of LA Lakers feel good team moment during intermission. About this time Rina was busily creating two Bloody Maries. When I commented on how long they take to make, she commented that good Bloody Maries require the use of more than the simple, staid ingredients one might find on-hand for use in other drinks that must be made swiftly on very busy nights at bar.
Upon completion of the V8-colored drinks (to my eyes only, mind, for I do not whish to offend the drink maker by comparing her creations to such a base thing as V8 juice even though I just did), Rina kindly offered me two very small samples of each drink (in very small glasses I'd never even seen before at the bar -- how small, you ask? Well, each glass was about the size of glass you'd expect to serve a hobbit with in the very unlikely event such a creature walked into the even more unlikely edifice of a hobbit bar and ordered a double shot of whiskey for himself and his hobbit friends) in order to see if I could taste the difference between the two, as one was made with Hangar One Chipotle and the other with Ketel One.
As it happens my inexperienced tongue could indeed tell the difference, which is to say the Kettle One tasted better inasmuch as it didn't attempt to ignite several small fires in my mouth like the Chipotle did.
After serving said drinks to the couple at the end of the bar, Rina busied herself with a thorough cleaning out of the surf and turf containers. For my part, I attempted to emulate the spirit of the "Only You Can Prevent Forrest Fires" motto by liberally dousing my flaming tongue with beer.
Fortunately Rina already had my second beer pored and served before I'd taken the last swallow of my first.
(Serious moment: service like that is beyond awesome. Just as you are finishing, another comes your way. Simply. Fricking. Awesome.)
By 2:30 of this wet and dreary day the headcount in the bar had increased to seven + the bartender, with the arrival of Old School Doug and a compatriot of Lorenzo's (thus, three people at Table 3 and four people at the bar proper).
When asked, Rina was kind enough to fill me in on the details of the Giants vs. A's Party Bus that Jack's is hosting May 22nd next month. She also told me a story of what it was like during the first ever Jack's party bus. Both she and Jordan had to tend bar for the bus crowd at the bar before all of them left on said bus for the game, which is to say everyone had a massive head start before jumping on the bus for the pre-planned head start such busses are meant to provide.
I admit I should have liked to have been one of those lucky few who rallied around Rina's call to knock out a whole bottle of Vodka (or was it Tequila?), with open mouths and a willingness to let her poor the bottle contents into them. She indicated several people hurled friendly Fuck You!s at her after swallow-gasping their allotted portion of the bottle down their throats, but I don't think I could ever bring myself to say that, even if it was a bottle of Bloody Mary mix.
Party Bus details follow:
Cost is right around $67 dollars (cash only).
Sign up at the bar.
Cost includes beer, BBQ, ticket and of course the ride up and back.
Spaces are still open but are also going fast!
And of course I'll be on that bus. Wouldn't miss it for the world.
Let's just hope the bus driver understands the concept of parallel lines and blinkers.
See you Monday at Jack's!
Day 100 - Thank You, Sugi! Thank you, Allison. Thank You Sexy Ladies! Thank You All!
Saturday, April 10th
As the blog title and WOOHOO DAY 100!!!!!
Yep, if you want to number my blog visits from this point forward you must use not one, nor two, but three digits.
If that's not a big deal to you, ask yourself how many of those digit places you'd like to use to describe the amount of cash you have in your wallet or purse.
There now, see what I'm trying to get at? :P
To Sugi (and Carter), my thanks for the belated birthday dinner at Pizz'a Chicago (has it really been almost two years since we were last there?!) and for buying me a couple rounds of beers at Jack's. Sugi I hope you enjoyed talking with Jimmy and Jeff. ;)
My thanks to Allison, for looking so pretty and for laughing out loud when I intimated that as time has gone by Thunder has begun to look a little more like a Klingon* each day. Thanks to Thunder for anchoring the bar on such a crowded night (and for not crushing me like a gnat). Thank you Crystal for being so painfully sexy and for the boob-bump greetings. ;)
Thanks to Vagabond and B-Rich for absolutely rocking tonight on the turntables. You guys pass the ball back and forth like Jordan and Pippin (or Bryant and Odom, for all you young whippersnappers out there). Your efforts are much appreciated.
My thanks to Jimmy, Jeff, Gabby and Dread Pirate Todd for the good company and the laughs. Through you I have learned to appreciate comments made from the heart, as well to understand that someone who's buzzed can still tell a great joke or three.
Thanks to Joaquin for keeping me honest and for introducing me to your exceptionally beautiful cousin. Oh. My. God. (Yep Dear Reader, she's that beautiful).
My thanks to the three beautiful women who took the two seats proffered up to them by yours truly that Sugi and I were not using at Table 2, as well my suggestion to take Table 5 and make it their own. Long after Sugi left, I stuck around in part because I enjoyed the hell out of myself watching you (and your friends who came in later) dance alone, dance with each other, dance each other into the back wall (like a linebacker tackling a running back at one point, honest!) and shut down pretty much every guy who approached you. (Lolz Jimmy "no" means "no", as does "fuck off") Hope to see you all again soon!
Thanks to Katie for the kiss on the cheek (I'm sorry my stammered thank you response pretty much sucked). Full disclosure: thanks to Robert for the kiss on the cheek too. Thanks to Fremont Matt for not kissing me on the cheek and for not trying to grab my beard more than eighteen times tonight. Thanks to Andy for offering to continue the Epic Legacy of "someone made my beer koozie with neoprene neck tassel so you can hang it around your neck so I'm going to make you one too". I hope it's possible to use a 32oz koozie and a dog collar style chain for mine.
My sincere thanks to those of you who purchased me drinks at the bar tonight (in particular I'm thinking of Joaquin and Darrin). Your generosity is truly heartwarming and it is my extreme pleasure to have been befriended by so many great people.
My apologies to all the people I met tonight whose names I have since forgotten. I am still trying (and failing) to remember things without typing notes into my phone.
Lastly, my thanks to Matt for letting me buy us a round of shots at last call. I hope school goes well for you and I'm totally willing to take up the slack on the drinking side so you can keep it together until the semester is over. ;)
See you Sunday before sundown at Jack's!
Postscript at iHop: It was a pleasure to talk to you again, Alisha. Remember, if you want to touch my beard you must ask permission first. You say you won't, but before the year is out you will. ;) Say hello to The Street We Live On aka Taylor and I hope the transit issues in Foster City clear themselves up (somehow) and that all goes well at the startup.
Thanks also to Nacho, Bernadette, Beatriz and Mimi for such regularly awesome service.
*WTF?!?! My spellchecker doesn't even know that "Klingon" is a word? Lame. I'm fixing that right now.
As the blog title and WOOHOO DAY 100!!!!!
Yep, if you want to number my blog visits from this point forward you must use not one, nor two, but three digits.
If that's not a big deal to you, ask yourself how many of those digit places you'd like to use to describe the amount of cash you have in your wallet or purse.
There now, see what I'm trying to get at? :P
To Sugi (and Carter), my thanks for the belated birthday dinner at Pizz'a Chicago (has it really been almost two years since we were last there?!) and for buying me a couple rounds of beers at Jack's. Sugi I hope you enjoyed talking with Jimmy and Jeff. ;)
My thanks to Allison, for looking so pretty and for laughing out loud when I intimated that as time has gone by Thunder has begun to look a little more like a Klingon* each day. Thanks to Thunder for anchoring the bar on such a crowded night (and for not crushing me like a gnat). Thank you Crystal for being so painfully sexy and for the boob-bump greetings. ;)
Thanks to Vagabond and B-Rich for absolutely rocking tonight on the turntables. You guys pass the ball back and forth like Jordan and Pippin (or Bryant and Odom, for all you young whippersnappers out there). Your efforts are much appreciated.
My thanks to Jimmy, Jeff, Gabby and Dread Pirate Todd for the good company and the laughs. Through you I have learned to appreciate comments made from the heart, as well to understand that someone who's buzzed can still tell a great joke or three.
Thanks to Joaquin for keeping me honest and for introducing me to your exceptionally beautiful cousin. Oh. My. God. (Yep Dear Reader, she's that beautiful).
My thanks to the three beautiful women who took the two seats proffered up to them by yours truly that Sugi and I were not using at Table 2, as well my suggestion to take Table 5 and make it their own. Long after Sugi left, I stuck around in part because I enjoyed the hell out of myself watching you (and your friends who came in later) dance alone, dance with each other, dance each other into the back wall (like a linebacker tackling a running back at one point, honest!) and shut down pretty much every guy who approached you. (Lolz Jimmy "no" means "no", as does "fuck off") Hope to see you all again soon!
Thanks to Katie for the kiss on the cheek (I'm sorry my stammered thank you response pretty much sucked). Full disclosure: thanks to Robert for the kiss on the cheek too. Thanks to Fremont Matt for not kissing me on the cheek and for not trying to grab my beard more than eighteen times tonight. Thanks to Andy for offering to continue the Epic Legacy of "someone made my beer koozie with neoprene neck tassel so you can hang it around your neck so I'm going to make you one too". I hope it's possible to use a 32oz koozie and a dog collar style chain for mine.
My sincere thanks to those of you who purchased me drinks at the bar tonight (in particular I'm thinking of Joaquin and Darrin). Your generosity is truly heartwarming and it is my extreme pleasure to have been befriended by so many great people.
My apologies to all the people I met tonight whose names I have since forgotten. I am still trying (and failing) to remember things without typing notes into my phone.
Lastly, my thanks to Matt for letting me buy us a round of shots at last call. I hope school goes well for you and I'm totally willing to take up the slack on the drinking side so you can keep it together until the semester is over. ;)
See you Sunday before sundown at Jack's!
Postscript at iHop: It was a pleasure to talk to you again, Alisha. Remember, if you want to touch my beard you must ask permission first. You say you won't, but before the year is out you will. ;) Say hello to The Street We Live On aka Taylor and I hope the transit issues in Foster City clear themselves up (somehow) and that all goes well at the startup.
Thanks also to Nacho, Bernadette, Beatriz and Mimi for such regularly awesome service.
*WTF?!?! My spellchecker doesn't even know that "Klingon" is a word? Lame. I'm fixing that right now.
Day 99 - Double Fisting It
Friday, April 9th
You know Dear Reader, the phrase that constitutes today's title for the blog always reads in my mind as waaaaaaay more dirty than when it's used at a bar to describe someone with a drink in each hand.
Otherwise it's all I can do to keep my mind from conjuring up a hypothetical porn scene involving at least one person from Germany with hands and feet each down someone's....but hey, let's move on, shall we?
I arrived to a very packed Jack's Bar & Lounge late Friday night. Sugi hinted at possibly coming up to the bar, but her bf got out of his tournament early so she was officially occupied.
The bar —as I'd just mentioned— was really rather packed and would only get more crowded as time went by. In the few short moments I spent talking outside with Ras Dank, at least fifteen people walked into the bar.
Once in the front door, I realized there was pretty much no chance for me to order, even if I managed to jump in behind Kelly and co. at the corner of the bar after they got done signing up for the Party Bus. But thanks to the kindness of others I had two beers come to me from two directions (one PBR tall can from Joaquin and one pint of beer from I know not who) before I knew what was going on.
It may seem perhaps repetitive to you, Dear Reader, that I should write of how absolutely good it feels to be shown such kindness as I received tonight at the bar, but I hope you never tire of it or come to take it for granted, because I don't ever intend to stop writing about it. Seriously, imagine yourself in a packed bar with no chance of ordering in the immediate future (though at Jack's of course Charlie and Co. will bust their asses to get to you as fast as they can on a Friday night) only to "jump ahead" of everyone thanks to the kindness of others.
It's just fucking cool. And awesome. As it happens I didn't pay for any drink that I consumed. The only money from my pocket that went to the bar ended up going towards a beer each for Jimmy and Dread Pirate Todd. It's always great to see those two in action.
Out on the back patio I spoke at length with Fremont Matt and his good friend Phil from Las Vegas about the do's and don'ts of being a door person/bouncer. Their advice was sound and much appreciated, as I'll be partnering with Jeff at Ike's Lounge on May 1st for fight night.
Running into the two pretty ladies who make their own San Jose Shark's hoodies and clothing was awesome too (try as I might I can't remember which day it was I first met them). One of the two has a square-ish tattoo on her back that I only got a half look at but the idea of it and placement were awesome.
Sitting and talking with Tall Nicole and some of her friends on the patio was nice too. Which reminds me...
An aside to Tall Nicole's mom: Hi Tall Nicole's mom! I'm Jeremy and it's nice to meet you! Thank you for reading my blog and for being honest with Nicole about your first impression of me through my writing.
Thus, should you continue to read it from time to time, it is my hope that exposure to the blog will perhaps change your mind so that you come to think of me as less "creepy" and more "kind fellow". ;)
I know you didn't name your daughter "Tall Nicole" and I hope you will forgive the liberty I have taken in assigning this name to her. I'm my defense I've come to distinguish her that way because there's not that many other appropriate ways I can tell her apart from the other incredibly beautiful and kind woman who shares "Nicole" as her first name and sometimes visits Jack's Bar & Lounge.
Praising Tall Nicole's many admirable traits in writing something I enjoy doing, but I'm certain whatever new words I might write for today's blog entry would only describe things about her for which you already intimately familiar.
So instead I will praise you for bringing such a beautiful person into the world. I hope you do not think of me as speaking out of turn when I say that Tall Nicole is a great person (and one hell of a bartender) who lifts up everyone around her simply by being there.
Take care Dear Reader and thanks as always for reading! See you Saturday for Day 100 at Jack's!!!!
You know Dear Reader, the phrase that constitutes today's title for the blog always reads in my mind as waaaaaaay more dirty than when it's used at a bar to describe someone with a drink in each hand.
Otherwise it's all I can do to keep my mind from conjuring up a hypothetical porn scene involving at least one person from Germany with hands and feet each down someone's....but hey, let's move on, shall we?
I arrived to a very packed Jack's Bar & Lounge late Friday night. Sugi hinted at possibly coming up to the bar, but her bf got out of his tournament early so she was officially occupied.
The bar —as I'd just mentioned— was really rather packed and would only get more crowded as time went by. In the few short moments I spent talking outside with Ras Dank, at least fifteen people walked into the bar.
Once in the front door, I realized there was pretty much no chance for me to order, even if I managed to jump in behind Kelly and co. at the corner of the bar after they got done signing up for the Party Bus. But thanks to the kindness of others I had two beers come to me from two directions (one PBR tall can from Joaquin and one pint of beer from I know not who) before I knew what was going on.
It may seem perhaps repetitive to you, Dear Reader, that I should write of how absolutely good it feels to be shown such kindness as I received tonight at the bar, but I hope you never tire of it or come to take it for granted, because I don't ever intend to stop writing about it. Seriously, imagine yourself in a packed bar with no chance of ordering in the immediate future (though at Jack's of course Charlie and Co. will bust their asses to get to you as fast as they can on a Friday night) only to "jump ahead" of everyone thanks to the kindness of others.
It's just fucking cool. And awesome. As it happens I didn't pay for any drink that I consumed. The only money from my pocket that went to the bar ended up going towards a beer each for Jimmy and Dread Pirate Todd. It's always great to see those two in action.
Out on the back patio I spoke at length with Fremont Matt and his good friend Phil from Las Vegas about the do's and don'ts of being a door person/bouncer. Their advice was sound and much appreciated, as I'll be partnering with Jeff at Ike's Lounge on May 1st for fight night.
Running into the two pretty ladies who make their own San Jose Shark's hoodies and clothing was awesome too (try as I might I can't remember which day it was I first met them). One of the two has a square-ish tattoo on her back that I only got a half look at but the idea of it and placement were awesome.
Sitting and talking with Tall Nicole and some of her friends on the patio was nice too. Which reminds me...
An aside to Tall Nicole's mom: Hi Tall Nicole's mom! I'm Jeremy and it's nice to meet you! Thank you for reading my blog and for being honest with Nicole about your first impression of me through my writing.
Thus, should you continue to read it from time to time, it is my hope that exposure to the blog will perhaps change your mind so that you come to think of me as less "creepy" and more "kind fellow". ;)
I know you didn't name your daughter "Tall Nicole" and I hope you will forgive the liberty I have taken in assigning this name to her. I'm my defense I've come to distinguish her that way because there's not that many other appropriate ways I can tell her apart from the other incredibly beautiful and kind woman who shares "Nicole" as her first name and sometimes visits Jack's Bar & Lounge.
Praising Tall Nicole's many admirable traits in writing something I enjoy doing, but I'm certain whatever new words I might write for today's blog entry would only describe things about her for which you already intimately familiar.
So instead I will praise you for bringing such a beautiful person into the world. I hope you do not think of me as speaking out of turn when I say that Tall Nicole is a great person (and one hell of a bartender) who lifts up everyone around her simply by being there.
Take care Dear Reader and thanks as always for reading! See you Saturday for Day 100 at Jack's!!!!
Day 98 - How Things Are Done
Thursday, April 8th
Tanisha has just got to have 360 vision. There were over twenty one people in the bar and no direct line of sight from me to her, yet she was serving up my beer almost as I walked in the door. Damn that was awesome.
Tanisha was wearing a halter top which showed off her back and the full spread of her back tattoo. Hypnotic is the word I'd use to describe that image on her back.
I received my beer at the far end of the bar (near where Grant's skate was propped up against the wall) and took it over to Table 4 where Dean and Grant were sitting. Dean very kindly informed me that "I totally support what you're doing [here]." Coming from a regular like him it means a lot to me.
Dean then told me stories of what it was like here in San Jose five years ago when he first arrived in the area. Laser Man had come in by then and he corroberated Dean's description of one bar in particular that had the most beautiful bartenders in all of San Jose, each woman a different ethnicity.
Then Dean mentioned how he sort of set up a formal/informal barrier by allowing certain people who he came to know and trust to use his first name, while everyone else was introduced to him by his middle name and would naturally use that going forward. This way if he were ever in a crowded place/event and he half-heard someone call out to him with his true first name he'd automatically know it was someone he could trust, even if he couldn't quite see them yet/figure out where they were. Pretty smart idea, that.
He also reminded me in a roundabout way that there are several regulars at the bar who I don't really know at all since I haven't talked to them. Going to have to remedy that in order to make this a complete experience.
The owner of Jack's stopped by about then and I hit him up to make sure there were no issues that might have cropped up due to me writing the blog. He confirmed all was well, and that it would be of some help to him if I did not mention to people at the bar something along the lines of "Oh, there's the owner over there."
The owner prefers his anonymity and ability to enjoy the bar, for which I'll of course do my part to help him in that regard. At best I'll mention him as just one more of the bartenders at Jack's (which he said he's cool with me doing). Like Dean, he has a certain comfort level with people he knows well and I can appreciate that.
The owner then talked with me a bit about his working philosophy at the bar: when a bartender is on, it's their bar to run and pretty much their customers that are at the bar to be served by that specific bartender, whereas the owner is just there to make sure the bartender has everything he or she needs to succeed. That was his style when he was a bartender at other places before Jack's and he's clearly carried that operating philosophy forward.
In his words, there's a certain vibe to Jack's that nicer bars (in terms of seating, TVs, extras like food service) don't always attract. I get the gist of what he's saying, but I've not frequented enough alternate bars to really see what he means (going to have to fix that, in time).
I thought about this as I glimpsed the twin of my truck as it sat parked across the street from Jack's. Then I stepped into the back hallway and noticed how the light from outside shined through the two small, rectangular windows set high up on the wall. The light was almost cathedral like and it illuminated the upper half of the hallway, reminding me of just how high the ceiling is in there. At night with the lights on the hallway just seems smaller (even without the beer pong table deployed).
Back in the bar I met a man with a black shirt who's a Broncos fan. That makes all of two of us in the Bay Area lolz. I stepped around Jordan and Grant (who were play grabbing/play swatting at each other's balls) and back to my seat to finish my beer, then headed for home.
Note: There's plenty of Party Bus signage everywhere at the bar. Save your pennies and sign up, Dear Reader! I don't want to experience the Party Bus without you!
See you Friday at Jack's!
Tanisha has just got to have 360 vision. There were over twenty one people in the bar and no direct line of sight from me to her, yet she was serving up my beer almost as I walked in the door. Damn that was awesome.
Tanisha was wearing a halter top which showed off her back and the full spread of her back tattoo. Hypnotic is the word I'd use to describe that image on her back.
I received my beer at the far end of the bar (near where Grant's skate was propped up against the wall) and took it over to Table 4 where Dean and Grant were sitting. Dean very kindly informed me that "I totally support what you're doing [here]." Coming from a regular like him it means a lot to me.
Dean then told me stories of what it was like here in San Jose five years ago when he first arrived in the area. Laser Man had come in by then and he corroberated Dean's description of one bar in particular that had the most beautiful bartenders in all of San Jose, each woman a different ethnicity.
Then Dean mentioned how he sort of set up a formal/informal barrier by allowing certain people who he came to know and trust to use his first name, while everyone else was introduced to him by his middle name and would naturally use that going forward. This way if he were ever in a crowded place/event and he half-heard someone call out to him with his true first name he'd automatically know it was someone he could trust, even if he couldn't quite see them yet/figure out where they were. Pretty smart idea, that.
He also reminded me in a roundabout way that there are several regulars at the bar who I don't really know at all since I haven't talked to them. Going to have to remedy that in order to make this a complete experience.
The owner of Jack's stopped by about then and I hit him up to make sure there were no issues that might have cropped up due to me writing the blog. He confirmed all was well, and that it would be of some help to him if I did not mention to people at the bar something along the lines of "Oh, there's the owner over there."
The owner prefers his anonymity and ability to enjoy the bar, for which I'll of course do my part to help him in that regard. At best I'll mention him as just one more of the bartenders at Jack's (which he said he's cool with me doing). Like Dean, he has a certain comfort level with people he knows well and I can appreciate that.
The owner then talked with me a bit about his working philosophy at the bar: when a bartender is on, it's their bar to run and pretty much their customers that are at the bar to be served by that specific bartender, whereas the owner is just there to make sure the bartender has everything he or she needs to succeed. That was his style when he was a bartender at other places before Jack's and he's clearly carried that operating philosophy forward.
In his words, there's a certain vibe to Jack's that nicer bars (in terms of seating, TVs, extras like food service) don't always attract. I get the gist of what he's saying, but I've not frequented enough alternate bars to really see what he means (going to have to fix that, in time).
I thought about this as I glimpsed the twin of my truck as it sat parked across the street from Jack's. Then I stepped into the back hallway and noticed how the light from outside shined through the two small, rectangular windows set high up on the wall. The light was almost cathedral like and it illuminated the upper half of the hallway, reminding me of just how high the ceiling is in there. At night with the lights on the hallway just seems smaller (even without the beer pong table deployed).
Back in the bar I met a man with a black shirt who's a Broncos fan. That makes all of two of us in the Bay Area lolz. I stepped around Jordan and Grant (who were play grabbing/play swatting at each other's balls) and back to my seat to finish my beer, then headed for home.
Note: There's plenty of Party Bus signage everywhere at the bar. Save your pennies and sign up, Dear Reader! I don't want to experience the Party Bus without you!
See you Friday at Jack's!
Day 97 - Does Anyone Remember Wednesday at Jack's?
Wednesday, April 7th
...cause I sure as hell can't. That's what I get for attempting a no notes trip, then waiting six days to write about it.
Lolz hope the memories come back to me eventually.
Until then, see you Thursday!
...cause I sure as hell can't. That's what I get for attempting a no notes trip, then waiting six days to write about it.
Lolz hope the memories come back to me eventually.
Until then, see you Thursday!
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Day 96 - Best. Birthday. Evar.
Tuesday, April 6th, 2010
Part 1: pre-Jack's Dinner
Pictures are worth a thousand words (probably ten thousand by today's inflation, if not more), so here's several to give you an idea of how things went at the pre-dinner/party at Christian and Jenny's place.
Patty, Jenny and Christian all went shopping the day before to gather up all the necessary ingredients for tonight's meal. Self checkout was fun, I was told. Then today Patty and Ras Dank rode up and got underway while Jenny and Christian looked on.
When I arrived, the incredible smell of cooking food flowed out from the second floor window of Christian and Jenny's place and right into my nose. It smelled so good. My salivary glands went into overdrive and it was practically raining in my mouth when I reached the front door.
The dinner consisted of a simple green salad with cucumbers, carrots cut in a style I can't remember and tomatoes, with your choice (lolz I used "your" like I was reading from a menu haha) of dressing.
Appetizers were mozzarella sticks fried to perfection in a homemade batter applied by Ras Dank.
The main course was Chicken Dijon and Chicken Marinara (some folks aren't keen on mustard, which is cool because the marinara —itself made from scratch by Patty— went perfectly with the appetizer).
The dessert was served in tall martini-style glasses, each pre-drizzled with chocolate syrup, then layered with portions of Neapolitan ice cream (the three flavors: vanilla, strawberry and chocolate) separated and shaped by spoon into ovals, with whipped cream, a final touch of ice cream and more syrup.
The food was immensely flavorful. The salad was a perfect starter: a simple yet hardy taste that contrasted well with what was to come next. The marinara was extremely rich and smooth in texture, with a touch of sweetness thrown in; it went perfectly with the mozzarella sticks, which were allowed to slightly cool so the batter could harden into an almost crackling shell.
The chicken was cooked perfectly. Not too hard, not too soft. The Honey Dijon sauce was killer. The peppercorns (am I saying that right?) added just the right edge to the flavor. I only wish there was more sauce!
As good as this was, seeing Jeff come through the door was just as great. Jeff, in case you did not already know, was instrumental in my formative experiences at Jack's Bar & Lounge last year. It was really great to share this experience with him.
Oh what more can I say about the dessert except that it was fantastic! If you could die from the taste of food, I'm sure Jeff would have fallen right out of his chair. Probably me too.
I took lots of pictures with the über-camera Christian provided, and may have annoyed the hosts somewhat in the offing, but hey, it was my birthday. ;)
If you should ever be so lucky as to have Patty cook for you, Dear Reader, count yourself most fortunate. As Christian smartly pointed out the other day, Patty's is the kind of food that, if you'd just consumed it in a restaurant, you'd gladly pay for.
I couldn't agree more.
Interlude: A Nice Pair of Boobs
Over dinner, it occured to me (as these wildly random thoughts always seem to do at the most inappropriate times, which is really to say all the damn time) that Jeff and I are like a good pair of tits.
To wit: we're both similar looking, are big and round, and if you stood us next to each other for comparison you'd see that one is slightly larger than the other (ladies you know what I'm talking about).
I did not remark on this thought out loud at dinner, but found myself unable to contain the idea inside my head after having consumed several whisky shots at the bar and so communicated my inner ruminations whenever anyone came close to me as I stood next to Jeff.
My apologies to anyone I might have weirded out. In my defense they told me it was my birthday and said I could do anything I wanted. So there.
Part 2: At Jack's, Whiskey Super Powers and Bus Lifting
We fortunate few who indulged in Patty's ever expanding culinary awesomeness found ourselves a gang of six full bellied humans walking (nay, ambling) up the street to Jack's, sippy cups in hand.
As an aside, I should say that the concept of a "sippy cup" is, to quote a word I use a lot on this blog, "awesome". The sippy cup is to traveling drinkers what the wheel is to machines one uses to get somewhere. I.e., it's the part you can't do without. Sippy cups are like Ninjas in that they are the perfect disguise. You think, "Ah! Surely that's coffee in your obviously labled as a coffee cup cup," but not so!
Empowered by the simple, yet awesome utility of our sippy cups, we drank our fill (well, until the liquid contents of our cups ran out) as we walked down Taylor's pleasant sidewalks. At this time it was remarked upon by one of the males in our happy troup that it's a particularly heinous crime to have no Taco Bell within easy driving distance of downtown San Jose residents. Really, it's about as heinous as...well...whatever is really heinous to you.
The vacant lot between Sixth and Seventh street seemed to me a prime location for just such, to which Jenny readily agreed. Jenny, as she's remarked before, thinks their ought to be a Nordstrom Rack and a Taco bell put in that lot. I could not agree more, though I'm not a Nordstrom's man (more a pray-this-fits-and-if-not-oh-well sort of clothes person).
If you can tell the difference between a pair of identical looking capri pants, one purchased from Macy's and one from Nordstrom, then count yourself able to see in a spectrum I did not even know existed.
Inside Jack's, Travis the Awesome was busy behind the bar. There was no Simonette working, which was a bummer because I was looking forward to seeing her.
There was nobody on the door since Travis was at the bar, and this reminded me that Jeff invited me to work with him May 1st as extra muscle for a door gig in Campbell on fight night (not sure of the exact location, lolz).
I hope there's no trouble and nobody tries to gang up on this particular pair of boobs, because whenever men get their hands on a pair of breasts the first thing they try to do is mash them together into one great big boob* (again, I'm sure you're with me on this ladies).
If you tried that with me an Jeff, well it'd be bad for you and your soon to be dead friends. Jeff and I are friendly to each other, sure, but we're not the types to be made to sacrifice our personal space by a bunch of ruffians. We'd gladly fight off the Legions of Hell before we let someone make us rub pelvises together (ICK!), however incidentally it might happen while the punching and ass-kicking was going on.
I can't even remember when the last time it was I got into a fight. Well, I sort of can, but it was so long ago that the memories are all in black and white.
Anyway, I can't remember much from about this point forward. I know Ed, Travis, Tanisha, possibly Kelly and Jorge (and Tim?), Johnny E. and Jon, and ACME purchased rounds of birthday shots of Jack Daniels for me.
Now I had a $20 out and every intention of paying, but couldn't seem to get anyone to take my money.
At some point later in the night I found said $20 neatly folded into a tiny square in my pocket. How it got there, I don't know. I do recall ACME asking me why his girlfriend's hand was in my pocket at some point and he lurked so very close when he asked that it was all I could do (being thoroughly buzzed) not to smile at what sounded to me at the time like a really great idea masked as an accusation.
I felt guilty on the inside for thinking that, but on the outside I'm sure the Whiskey-fueled grin on my face in no way betrayed that I was of two minds (both of them out of this world buzzed) on the subject.
(Thanks Katy if that was you who saved my money! :blush:)
I'm not sure when I went outside to help the VTA bus get towed. I recall someone pointed it out (Marchel?) and then I'm hollering inside the bar for someone to bust out a camera. I think Christian suggested I run across the street and help out, so I did.
What I do know for sure is that Jenny took my keys and Christian was kind enough to stay late after most everyone else left and he walked with me back to his place, where I crashed for the night. Thank you all so very much for looking after me!
If I have missed anything relevant that you recall, Dear Reader, please leave a comment!
Pictures follow (click on image to enlarge, but beware the awesome):
Part 1: pre-Jack's Dinner
Pictures are worth a thousand words (probably ten thousand by today's inflation, if not more), so here's several to give you an idea of how things went at the pre-dinner/party at Christian and Jenny's place.
The Recipe
Chef-In-Training Patty, In Action
Dinner Is Served!
Can't Forget Dessert!
Woohoo Jeff Made It!
When I arrived, the incredible smell of cooking food flowed out from the second floor window of Christian and Jenny's place and right into my nose. It smelled so good. My salivary glands went into overdrive and it was practically raining in my mouth when I reached the front door.
The dinner consisted of a simple green salad with cucumbers, carrots cut in a style I can't remember and tomatoes, with your choice (lolz I used "your" like I was reading from a menu haha) of dressing.
Appetizers were mozzarella sticks fried to perfection in a homemade batter applied by Ras Dank.
The main course was Chicken Dijon and Chicken Marinara (some folks aren't keen on mustard, which is cool because the marinara —itself made from scratch by Patty— went perfectly with the appetizer).
The dessert was served in tall martini-style glasses, each pre-drizzled with chocolate syrup, then layered with portions of Neapolitan ice cream (the three flavors: vanilla, strawberry and chocolate) separated and shaped by spoon into ovals, with whipped cream, a final touch of ice cream and more syrup.
The food was immensely flavorful. The salad was a perfect starter: a simple yet hardy taste that contrasted well with what was to come next. The marinara was extremely rich and smooth in texture, with a touch of sweetness thrown in; it went perfectly with the mozzarella sticks, which were allowed to slightly cool so the batter could harden into an almost crackling shell.
The chicken was cooked perfectly. Not too hard, not too soft. The Honey Dijon sauce was killer. The peppercorns (am I saying that right?) added just the right edge to the flavor. I only wish there was more sauce!
As good as this was, seeing Jeff come through the door was just as great. Jeff, in case you did not already know, was instrumental in my formative experiences at Jack's Bar & Lounge last year. It was really great to share this experience with him.
Oh what more can I say about the dessert except that it was fantastic! If you could die from the taste of food, I'm sure Jeff would have fallen right out of his chair. Probably me too.
I took lots of pictures with the über-camera Christian provided, and may have annoyed the hosts somewhat in the offing, but hey, it was my birthday. ;)
If you should ever be so lucky as to have Patty cook for you, Dear Reader, count yourself most fortunate. As Christian smartly pointed out the other day, Patty's is the kind of food that, if you'd just consumed it in a restaurant, you'd gladly pay for.
I couldn't agree more.
Interlude: A Nice Pair of Boobs
Over dinner, it occured to me (as these wildly random thoughts always seem to do at the most inappropriate times, which is really to say all the damn time) that Jeff and I are like a good pair of tits.
To wit: we're both similar looking, are big and round, and if you stood us next to each other for comparison you'd see that one is slightly larger than the other (ladies you know what I'm talking about).
I did not remark on this thought out loud at dinner, but found myself unable to contain the idea inside my head after having consumed several whisky shots at the bar and so communicated my inner ruminations whenever anyone came close to me as I stood next to Jeff.
My apologies to anyone I might have weirded out. In my defense they told me it was my birthday and said I could do anything I wanted. So there.
Part 2: At Jack's, Whiskey Super Powers and Bus Lifting
We fortunate few who indulged in Patty's ever expanding culinary awesomeness found ourselves a gang of six full bellied humans walking (nay, ambling) up the street to Jack's, sippy cups in hand.
As an aside, I should say that the concept of a "sippy cup" is, to quote a word I use a lot on this blog, "awesome". The sippy cup is to traveling drinkers what the wheel is to machines one uses to get somewhere. I.e., it's the part you can't do without. Sippy cups are like Ninjas in that they are the perfect disguise. You think, "Ah! Surely that's coffee in your obviously labled as a coffee cup cup," but not so!
Empowered by the simple, yet awesome utility of our sippy cups, we drank our fill (well, until the liquid contents of our cups ran out) as we walked down Taylor's pleasant sidewalks. At this time it was remarked upon by one of the males in our happy troup that it's a particularly heinous crime to have no Taco Bell within easy driving distance of downtown San Jose residents. Really, it's about as heinous as...well...whatever is really heinous to you.
The vacant lot between Sixth and Seventh street seemed to me a prime location for just such, to which Jenny readily agreed. Jenny, as she's remarked before, thinks their ought to be a Nordstrom Rack and a Taco bell put in that lot. I could not agree more, though I'm not a Nordstrom's man (more a pray-this-fits-and-if-not-oh-well sort of clothes person).
If you can tell the difference between a pair of identical looking capri pants, one purchased from Macy's and one from Nordstrom, then count yourself able to see in a spectrum I did not even know existed.
Inside Jack's, Travis the Awesome was busy behind the bar. There was no Simonette working, which was a bummer because I was looking forward to seeing her.
There was nobody on the door since Travis was at the bar, and this reminded me that Jeff invited me to work with him May 1st as extra muscle for a door gig in Campbell on fight night (not sure of the exact location, lolz).
I hope there's no trouble and nobody tries to gang up on this particular pair of boobs, because whenever men get their hands on a pair of breasts the first thing they try to do is mash them together into one great big boob* (again, I'm sure you're with me on this ladies).
If you tried that with me an Jeff, well it'd be bad for you and your soon to be dead friends. Jeff and I are friendly to each other, sure, but we're not the types to be made to sacrifice our personal space by a bunch of ruffians. We'd gladly fight off the Legions of Hell before we let someone make us rub pelvises together (ICK!), however incidentally it might happen while the punching and ass-kicking was going on.
I can't even remember when the last time it was I got into a fight. Well, I sort of can, but it was so long ago that the memories are all in black and white.
Anyway, I can't remember much from about this point forward. I know Ed, Travis, Tanisha, possibly Kelly and Jorge (and Tim?), Johnny E. and Jon, and ACME purchased rounds of birthday shots of Jack Daniels for me.
Now I had a $20 out and every intention of paying, but couldn't seem to get anyone to take my money.
At some point later in the night I found said $20 neatly folded into a tiny square in my pocket. How it got there, I don't know. I do recall ACME asking me why his girlfriend's hand was in my pocket at some point and he lurked so very close when he asked that it was all I could do (being thoroughly buzzed) not to smile at what sounded to me at the time like a really great idea masked as an accusation.
I felt guilty on the inside for thinking that, but on the outside I'm sure the Whiskey-fueled grin on my face in no way betrayed that I was of two minds (both of them out of this world buzzed) on the subject.
(Thanks Katy if that was you who saved my money! :blush:)
I'm not sure when I went outside to help the VTA bus get towed. I recall someone pointed it out (Marchel?) and then I'm hollering inside the bar for someone to bust out a camera. I think Christian suggested I run across the street and help out, so I did.
What I do know for sure is that Jenny took my keys and Christian was kind enough to stay late after most everyone else left and he walked with me back to his place, where I crashed for the night. Thank you all so very much for looking after me!
If I have missed anything relevant that you recall, Dear Reader, please leave a comment!
Pictures follow (click on image to enlarge, but beware the awesome):
(photo courtesy of Christian S.)
Thanks to my trusty Whiskey Superpowers (Whiskey is my spinach), I was able to lift up the bus shown above while posing in a very manly, Hercules-like way, while the tow truck driver had to be slapped out of his jaw-dropped-and-stunned-by-awesomeness-made-real-right-before-his-eyes state so that he could climb into the cab of his rig and safely back the tow hitch up under the bus. (When not flexing for photos, I used my keen eye and free arm to guide the driver as he backed in.)
But who am I kidding? I wouldn't dream of fibbing to you, Dear Reader. Which is to say whiskey, for all its splendid effects on one's body, mind and memory, cannot alone power the feat of strength you see with your own eyes above.
The truth of the matter is that Zeus was always ever Chuck Norris, and you can tell his mighty offspring by the awesomeness of their beards.
Thank you as always for reading, Dear Reader. See you Wednesday at Jack's Bar & Lounge!
;)
*Thanks, Robbin Williams, for teaching me all those years ago that this was possible.
Day 95 - If You Stay Late Enough Then It's Your Birthday A Day Early
Monday, April 5th, 2010
Dear Reader,
I had no intention of staying into the early (Christ, very early) Tuesday morning hours when I left for Jack's on Monday night around 10 p.m. I figured I'd just have a beer and call it good.
But like so many other nights before, one beer multiplies into several, much like rabbits in springtime but without all the fur in your drink.
Tonight Travis was on the door, Rina was behind the bar and Ras Dank was operating the turntables for maximum effect.
I spent longer than normal talking with Travis and Patty outside while Travis screened customers at the door and Patty expressed her infectious enthusiasm about cooking up a feast for tomorrow's birthday dinner.
Speaking of birthdays: Patty's is coming up this month and she likes herself some Captain Morgan every now and then. WINK WINK, NUDGE NUDGE for those of you who are inclined to buy a shot for a good person on their birthday.
So, out of sorts is a good way to describe my mood when I made the trip to the bar, but after some time with those two I was in high spirits and was appreciative for the change in my mood (I always get depressed on the lead up to my birthday, Dear Reader).
But even their kindness could not resurrect my powers of memory and recall, which is another way of saying that me trying to not always use my Crapberry to take notes means I forget things. To wit, I can't remember who Holepunch is (their chosen nickname, not my choice) and why it was that they were texting their friend Paperclip while talking about it out front of the bar.
Back inside I slow-sipped my beer, knowing it'd have to last a bit longer to reach midnight. When that time finally came around Ras Dank gave me a shot and a shout out as many folks said "Happy Birthday!" to me. Damn if that didn't feel good. Thank you all so much.
I do have a note about this in my phone: Shots from friends Yikes!
Someone said, "We're at Jack's, not at church, so drink up!" but I can't remember who it was. Not that this mental lapse kept me from following their orders, of course. ;)
Somewhere along the way Joaquin came in and before I knew it Rina had set a leftover Bud and Guinness in front of me to wrap up. Word of advice from me to you, Dear Reader: If ever presented with two beers to pound and one of 'em is a Guinness, choose that beer last.
Why? Well, if Guinness is good at one thing it's making foam like a bubble bath. I drank the Guiness down and all that foam went right back up my stomach into my esophagus, which made swallowing down the Bud an ordeal, to say the least.
Think me not unthankful, though, for I knocked 'em back and was happy as one could be after such an interesting experience. Patty and Joaquin cheering me on only made it better.
I can't remember when lovely Crystal showed up with Thunder aka Thunder, I just know it was after midnight. Son of Anarchy arrived later too. I am of the opinion that Son of Anarchy should dress as a Roman soldier for Halloween. I mean he totally looks like a man out of time to me sometimes. The dude is badass just by being there.
Outside for a moment, and I see Hanna roll in late. I didn't get to say hello to her, but I did see Temescan and Ashley (I think).
At 1:07 a.m. Ras Dank played me a Reggae birthday song (it had the word "sex" in it, if I recall correctly).
At 1:27 a.m. the bar closed its doors for the night and Patty told me the tale of her self-checkout experience from Monday in preparation for the birthday dinner...and I can't remember any of it! Yarg I need more practice!
I said goodnight to Jerry as Travis double checked the front door at 1:38 a.m.
As I watched the staff go home, I remember thinking to myself for some reason that even bartenders have a kindness limit, and that if I'm to not only survive these consecutive daily visits but prosper and learn, then I need to be more responsible. I have a network of friends, places I can crash if I'm too far along and even the means to procure other transportation home (cab, ride a bike, hop on a homeless person and demand they carry me home, etc...)
The irony of pondering this while driving home for the night was not lost on me.
See you Tuesday at Jack's! And when we do, I daresay your belly will not be as happy as mine, nor as full. ;) Take care, Dear Reader, until then.
Dear Reader,
I had no intention of staying into the early (Christ, very early) Tuesday morning hours when I left for Jack's on Monday night around 10 p.m. I figured I'd just have a beer and call it good.
But like so many other nights before, one beer multiplies into several, much like rabbits in springtime but without all the fur in your drink.
Tonight Travis was on the door, Rina was behind the bar and Ras Dank was operating the turntables for maximum effect.
I spent longer than normal talking with Travis and Patty outside while Travis screened customers at the door and Patty expressed her infectious enthusiasm about cooking up a feast for tomorrow's birthday dinner.
Speaking of birthdays: Patty's is coming up this month and she likes herself some Captain Morgan every now and then. WINK WINK, NUDGE NUDGE for those of you who are inclined to buy a shot for a good person on their birthday.
So, out of sorts is a good way to describe my mood when I made the trip to the bar, but after some time with those two I was in high spirits and was appreciative for the change in my mood (I always get depressed on the lead up to my birthday, Dear Reader).
But even their kindness could not resurrect my powers of memory and recall, which is another way of saying that me trying to not always use my Crapberry to take notes means I forget things. To wit, I can't remember who Holepunch is (their chosen nickname, not my choice) and why it was that they were texting their friend Paperclip while talking about it out front of the bar.
Back inside I slow-sipped my beer, knowing it'd have to last a bit longer to reach midnight. When that time finally came around Ras Dank gave me a shot and a shout out as many folks said "Happy Birthday!" to me. Damn if that didn't feel good. Thank you all so much.
I do have a note about this in my phone: Shots from friends Yikes!
Someone said, "We're at Jack's, not at church, so drink up!" but I can't remember who it was. Not that this mental lapse kept me from following their orders, of course. ;)
Somewhere along the way Joaquin came in and before I knew it Rina had set a leftover Bud and Guinness in front of me to wrap up. Word of advice from me to you, Dear Reader: If ever presented with two beers to pound and one of 'em is a Guinness, choose that beer last.
Why? Well, if Guinness is good at one thing it's making foam like a bubble bath. I drank the Guiness down and all that foam went right back up my stomach into my esophagus, which made swallowing down the Bud an ordeal, to say the least.
Think me not unthankful, though, for I knocked 'em back and was happy as one could be after such an interesting experience. Patty and Joaquin cheering me on only made it better.
I can't remember when lovely Crystal showed up with Thunder aka Thunder, I just know it was after midnight. Son of Anarchy arrived later too. I am of the opinion that Son of Anarchy should dress as a Roman soldier for Halloween. I mean he totally looks like a man out of time to me sometimes. The dude is badass just by being there.
Outside for a moment, and I see Hanna roll in late. I didn't get to say hello to her, but I did see Temescan and Ashley (I think).
At 1:07 a.m. Ras Dank played me a Reggae birthday song (it had the word "sex" in it, if I recall correctly).
At 1:27 a.m. the bar closed its doors for the night and Patty told me the tale of her self-checkout experience from Monday in preparation for the birthday dinner...and I can't remember any of it! Yarg I need more practice!
I said goodnight to Jerry as Travis double checked the front door at 1:38 a.m.
As I watched the staff go home, I remember thinking to myself for some reason that even bartenders have a kindness limit, and that if I'm to not only survive these consecutive daily visits but prosper and learn, then I need to be more responsible. I have a network of friends, places I can crash if I'm too far along and even the means to procure other transportation home (cab, ride a bike, hop on a homeless person and demand they carry me home, etc...)
The irony of pondering this while driving home for the night was not lost on me.
See you Tuesday at Jack's! And when we do, I daresay your belly will not be as happy as mine, nor as full. ;) Take care, Dear Reader, until then.
Day 94 - Thank You Easter Bartender! Gulp, Gulp!
(read the title as the Easter-themed M&M commercial sounded)
Sunday, April 4th, 2010
Alternate title: Let's Have A Baby Shot! (To Baby Jesus)
Wasn't Tall Nicole supposed to be working? Or did I just mix up the days in my head the last time she talked to me about her schedule?
Which is to say Tanisha was not who I expected to see behind the bar, nor the comparatively not as pretty mug of Travis sitting at the bar, when I walked in on rainy Easter Sunday. (Travis does have kind eyes and a warm smile though, so we can't hate on him too much.)
Do you know Larry Love? I do, sort of. Larry Love had an idea, and it was this: Go tailgating, but to the places people normally would not (or could not) tailgate.
For example: Tailgate the Quilt Museum. Or a church on Easter. To this list I suggested the Rosicrucian Museum or the Exotic Erotic Ball.
Admit it: it sounds fun to you, doesn't it Dear Reader? Christian, myself and Travis are all in on the Exotic Erotic tailgating. Are you coming too?
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Thus, it should be noted that Larry Love was not on hand to share this idea. Rather, it was relayed to me by the one person in the world most likely to actually do it: Travis teh Bartender.
It was a bit like February outside. The wind was up, it was cold, the rain was steady and sound of car tires washing through the streets could be heard clearly through the open front door of the bar.
From just inside that entrance I caught sight of Ras Dank as he walked (and not rode) to work so he could take over for Travis behind the bar. There is not enough of Ras Dank behind the bar in my opinion. Only person at Jack's I can think of who could run the turntables and the bar near-simultaneously.
Soon after Dank got going I overheard a man (a man whom I'd later meet, named Marchel [sounds like "mar shell"] and who'd end up staying most of the night after just stoping by to have a beer and check things out...and it turns out he already knows like everyone from back in the day!) say to everyone and no one that the Roy Jones vs. Bernard Hopkins fight from the other night was like watching two San Francisco winos battle for a bottle of booz. Awesome Ed agreed.
Speaking of Ed: he and I were trading rounds of beers at the bar today. Ed, in case you don't know, is AWESOME (yep, I'm aware that's the internet equivalent of shouting, so I hope you'll take my full meaning when I write about Ed that way.) and is teaching me about women's college hoops.
For example, he pointed out Baylor's center Brittney Griner, who is 6' 8" tall and will only get better on the court with experience.
Just as Gold Guns Girls by Metric* started playing in the bar (via backroom stereo), Shannon and Lisa walked in and I thought to myself now it's a party!
Travis stuck around for a bit and busied himself with talking to the lovely Caitlin and the not as lovely ('cause he's, you know, a dude) but otherwise just as nice Dean, and next to him Sean.
For my part I spent a few moments taking in the sight of Caitlin, because she's so damn pretty. She also reminds me of Catwoman, as depicted by Adam Hughes for the cover to issue #52 of that comic book series.
Sometime after Caitlin left, those three men mastered the art of spinning plastic Easter eggs like you'd spin a top. But unlike spinning tops, I've never seen anyone crush a spinning plastic egg with the same flat-palm-with-fingers-spread-wide technique one uses to either destroy an annoying insect or to strike one's forehead when one realizes something that should have been blidingly obvious from the first.
The plastic eggs, as you may have already guessed, did not stand a chance. Who's killed more bugs between those three, I wonder? (Or done the most self-inflicted brain damage to their own heads, when you think about it.)
Maybe the sight of seeing all those eggs so mercilessly dispatched caused me some brain trauma?
You see when I walked into the bar the sun was still well up in the sky (behind the clouds where I couldn't see it, but I'm pretty sure it was still there), yet somehow or another time flew by like I was at light speed for one minute while two hours went by back on Earth, such that before I knew it the sun was down and Chris Burkhardt and Debora had arrived with a couple of friends to set up for his twice-monthly show.
I was a little perturbed over the lost time, but that feeling gave way to much pleasure at seeing CB and Deborah. It's been awhile since I've enjoyed the sound of Chris playing and let me tell you he didn't disappoint tonight. Greasy and dirty steel guitar sound --just the way I've come to like it-- with some new music thrown in for good measure.
It's my hope that on New Year's night he'll be playing somewhere local with The Board of Directors. It'd be awesome to end this journey just as I started it.
Chris started by warming us all up to the sounds of John Lee Hooker (he played House Rent Boogie on the jukebox). Under the cover of the music he got his gear all set up while Deborah took the corner seat closest to Chris.
Big Jerry walked in and proceeded to catch up on bar events by reading my blog on his phone (the irony that he could do that, while I can't with my Crapberry, was not lost on me) and I was tickled to see someone read my blog while standing in the very same bar I write about. Thank you Jerry! :D
Chris got underway and a new fellow I met tonight named Tom (a good handshake and a willingness to dance with the pretty ladies are the two things about Tom I remember most) danced with one of Chris' friends.
While Chris played I texted back and forth with poor Wendee aka Rosicrucian who, along with her good buddy Tink, got in a car crash on the way back down from Reno. Fortunately they got out of the bad weather and were towed to Colfax. I'm glad she and Tink made out OK, all things considered.
The time was coming for me to get the hell out of the bar, but before I could make my escape Christian and Jenny stepped in with Patty and boy I'm glad they did. Not only had they just enjoyed a kick ass meal made by Patty the Chef in training, but hit on the idea of hosting a similar shindig for my birthday next Tuesday!
Dear Reader, I am well and truly blessed with good friend and good people.
I said goodbye to many such people at the bar tonight, then made my way home.
See you Monday at Jack's!
*I'm downloading this song from iTunes as I write the old blog.
Sunday, April 4th, 2010
Alternate title: Let's Have A Baby Shot! (To Baby Jesus)
Wasn't Tall Nicole supposed to be working? Or did I just mix up the days in my head the last time she talked to me about her schedule?
Which is to say Tanisha was not who I expected to see behind the bar, nor the comparatively not as pretty mug of Travis sitting at the bar, when I walked in on rainy Easter Sunday. (Travis does have kind eyes and a warm smile though, so we can't hate on him too much.)
Do you know Larry Love? I do, sort of. Larry Love had an idea, and it was this: Go tailgating, but to the places people normally would not (or could not) tailgate.
For example: Tailgate the Quilt Museum. Or a church on Easter. To this list I suggested the Rosicrucian Museum or the Exotic Erotic Ball.
Admit it: it sounds fun to you, doesn't it Dear Reader? Christian, myself and Travis are all in on the Exotic Erotic tailgating. Are you coming too?
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Thus, it should be noted that Larry Love was not on hand to share this idea. Rather, it was relayed to me by the one person in the world most likely to actually do it: Travis teh Bartender.
It was a bit like February outside. The wind was up, it was cold, the rain was steady and sound of car tires washing through the streets could be heard clearly through the open front door of the bar.
From just inside that entrance I caught sight of Ras Dank as he walked (and not rode) to work so he could take over for Travis behind the bar. There is not enough of Ras Dank behind the bar in my opinion. Only person at Jack's I can think of who could run the turntables and the bar near-simultaneously.
Soon after Dank got going I overheard a man (a man whom I'd later meet, named Marchel [sounds like "mar shell"] and who'd end up staying most of the night after just stoping by to have a beer and check things out...and it turns out he already knows like everyone from back in the day!) say to everyone and no one that the Roy Jones vs. Bernard Hopkins fight from the other night was like watching two San Francisco winos battle for a bottle of booz. Awesome Ed agreed.
Speaking of Ed: he and I were trading rounds of beers at the bar today. Ed, in case you don't know, is AWESOME (yep, I'm aware that's the internet equivalent of shouting, so I hope you'll take my full meaning when I write about Ed that way.) and is teaching me about women's college hoops.
For example, he pointed out Baylor's center Brittney Griner, who is 6' 8" tall and will only get better on the court with experience.
Just as Gold Guns Girls by Metric* started playing in the bar (via backroom stereo), Shannon and Lisa walked in and I thought to myself now it's a party!
Travis stuck around for a bit and busied himself with talking to the lovely Caitlin and the not as lovely ('cause he's, you know, a dude) but otherwise just as nice Dean, and next to him Sean.
For my part I spent a few moments taking in the sight of Caitlin, because she's so damn pretty. She also reminds me of Catwoman, as depicted by Adam Hughes for the cover to issue #52 of that comic book series.
Sometime after Caitlin left, those three men mastered the art of spinning plastic Easter eggs like you'd spin a top. But unlike spinning tops, I've never seen anyone crush a spinning plastic egg with the same flat-palm-with-fingers-spread-wide technique one uses to either destroy an annoying insect or to strike one's forehead when one realizes something that should have been blidingly obvious from the first.
The plastic eggs, as you may have already guessed, did not stand a chance. Who's killed more bugs between those three, I wonder? (Or done the most self-inflicted brain damage to their own heads, when you think about it.)
Maybe the sight of seeing all those eggs so mercilessly dispatched caused me some brain trauma?
You see when I walked into the bar the sun was still well up in the sky (behind the clouds where I couldn't see it, but I'm pretty sure it was still there), yet somehow or another time flew by like I was at light speed for one minute while two hours went by back on Earth, such that before I knew it the sun was down and Chris Burkhardt and Debora had arrived with a couple of friends to set up for his twice-monthly show.
I was a little perturbed over the lost time, but that feeling gave way to much pleasure at seeing CB and Deborah. It's been awhile since I've enjoyed the sound of Chris playing and let me tell you he didn't disappoint tonight. Greasy and dirty steel guitar sound --just the way I've come to like it-- with some new music thrown in for good measure.
It's my hope that on New Year's night he'll be playing somewhere local with The Board of Directors. It'd be awesome to end this journey just as I started it.
Chris started by warming us all up to the sounds of John Lee Hooker (he played House Rent Boogie on the jukebox). Under the cover of the music he got his gear all set up while Deborah took the corner seat closest to Chris.
Big Jerry walked in and proceeded to catch up on bar events by reading my blog on his phone (the irony that he could do that, while I can't with my Crapberry, was not lost on me) and I was tickled to see someone read my blog while standing in the very same bar I write about. Thank you Jerry! :D
Chris got underway and a new fellow I met tonight named Tom (a good handshake and a willingness to dance with the pretty ladies are the two things about Tom I remember most) danced with one of Chris' friends.
While Chris played I texted back and forth with poor Wendee aka Rosicrucian who, along with her good buddy Tink, got in a car crash on the way back down from Reno. Fortunately they got out of the bad weather and were towed to Colfax. I'm glad she and Tink made out OK, all things considered.
The time was coming for me to get the hell out of the bar, but before I could make my escape Christian and Jenny stepped in with Patty and boy I'm glad they did. Not only had they just enjoyed a kick ass meal made by Patty the Chef in training, but hit on the idea of hosting a similar shindig for my birthday next Tuesday!
Dear Reader, I am well and truly blessed with good friend and good people.
I said goodbye to many such people at the bar tonight, then made my way home.
See you Monday at Jack's!
*I'm downloading this song from iTunes as I write the old blog.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Day 93 - Tijuana Hooker Battles and Sacks of Chicken Assholes
Saturday, April 3rd, 2010
Some notes: Sailor Tod is now officially to be known as Dread Pirate Todd. Not because Todd did dreadful things with which to earn a Dreadful name, but because he thinks "Dread Pirate" sounds awesome, and I agree.
Besides, Dread Pirate Roberts has done way too much damage to the "Dread Pirate" moniker, what with his airy-fairy English accent and taste for black silk clothes. Why they don't call him Effeminate Pirate Roberts is beyond me.
We need someone with more class (and drinking ability) to take the name. Todd is the best choice. Having established this, let us proceeded to the events of Saturday evening as I recall them.
The night started late. I didn't even arrive at Jack's until after 10 p.m. Sugi was to have met me there with her sister, her sister's husband and his brother, but at the last minute they all canceled.
Having driven to the bar, I found myself sitting in my truck at the Happi House parking lot, listening to the end of How Soon is Now? by The Smiths play on 92.3 FM.
As the last notes played on the radio, Ras Dank rode by out of the blue with a big smile and a wave. Seeing Dank ride across the street to the bar brought me out of my musical reverie (memories of Catherine and the Boulder, Colorado club called Ground Zero at the forefront of my thoughts) and hastened my exit from my truck.
I didn't even look at The Rock this time, though I was parked right next to it. I suppose that if The Rock had legs I'd surely invite it inside. Alas, this can not be (we think The Rock is more or less bonded to the asphalt of the parking lot — it won't budge in the slightest when tested).
The air was cold. I could feel heat escaping from my freshly shaved scalp so I threw the hood of my black Jack's Bar & Lounge hoodie up to keep warm. I recall how soft the hood felt against the skin of my head and how this led to hope I'd find a woman, hopefully no more than buzzed, with a pair of warm hands and a desire to place them both on my head.
Drunk female attention is one thing, full faculty/minimally buzzed attention is another, and I much prefer the later, thank you very much. A pair of warm women's hands on my head on a cold night is nothing short of divine (you thought, perhaps, that I prefer beard attention? I don't mind it, but it's not at the top of my list.).
But wishes should never go half-formed in one's mind. Otherwise you'll get more than you ask for, as I was about to learn.
Travis was sitting on a bar stool at the door, checking IDs. I watched him more than I watched for traffic as I walked across the street, a short burst of adrenaline flowing through my veins as I battled down the worry feeling I always (always) get before I step into the bar. I shit you not it's like showing up for my first day of Junior High all over again every single time.
Inside the bar, DJ Traps was in full command of the sound system. It was Traps birthday last night and I'm sad to say it was kind of a slow night. I'm blaming Easter.
Ed and Wes were at the corner of the bar and Ed very kindly purchased for me a pitcher of beer with which to start my night. Jordan served it up while Tall Nicole worked the opposite half of the bar. Wes left to go out back and smoke, while Ed and I chatted as best we could over Traps' turntable ministrations.
Spike's Story:
A man we'll call Spike was nice enough to relate a tale to myself, ACME, Tempe and Ras Dank out on the back patio. His story was about getting robbed by a hooker, then robbing her right back. I should like to point out that, Tempe's claims to the contrary, the hooker was not in fact a transvestite.
His story begins in San Diego. As Spike tells it...
I was working in San Diego for a time. One night, a friend of mine who was in SEAL training called me up and said "Let's go down to TJ and get laid." I said OK so we headed on down there.
We got into town and went into a bar on Revolution Street. Pretty soon this nice looking lady walked up to me and we got down to business. She took me into the storage room and gave me a blowjob with a condom on, which was bullshit but hey I guess it's safe, right?
So as she's doing her thing I notice her hands are rifling through my pants pockets. I push her back and say "wait a minute!" and she says "no hablo Ingles" and I was like "you habloed just fine back in the bar. Now where's my money?"
So I hold her back with one hand as she tries to get past me and through the door, and I'm going through her purse and checking her bra and I find my $300 wad of cash. She yells for help (Ayudame, Ayudame!) and I can hear people banging on the door and things aren't looking good.
So I push her back, yank up my jeans, put my cash in my pocket and throw open the door. They stumble in and I jump past them out the door and into the bar. I yell at my friends to get the hell out of here and I run outside and up Revolution Street.
Half a block down I realized my dick was hanging out so I pulled off the condom and finished doing up my pants.
Further down I looked back and my friends are outside, and those assholes are pointing at me and the bar guys start chasing me!
Luckily a cab pulls up and I jump in and tell him I want to go right to the border. I take out my wad of cash and start counting it up and I've got $450 dollars.
The pain from laughing at that story was a good one. And yes, Dear Reader, if you did your maths you know that Spike made $150 dollars for a brief blowjob and a cardio workout.
Somehow or another the talk of hookers gave way to talk of mooseknuckles. Tempe has a Druid on World of Warcraft named Mooseknuckle.
A slow night means the back patio gets closed up early so before long we all had to make our way back inside. I kept looking around for the big weightlifter looking dude (I could see him playing beer pong earlier when I was outside) but he was nowhere to be found. That boy was massively muscled.
I met a nice couple named Suzanna and Jaime (i.e., himay, Dear Reader). They like to go to different bars and restaurants and really enjoyed being at Jack's. Jaime stopped me as I went to the bar to order more beer and asked if "you guys sell the black hoodies." I told him I didn't work at Jack's, but that Ras Dank, Nicole or Jordan could easily sell him one from their on-hand stock.
This was a great segway into pointing out that Tall Nicole is featured in several of Aimee B's works on the wall. Suzanna in particular was impressed by Aimee's work and we had a nice, shout-at-each-other conversation after that (the music was that loud).
Outside in the cold, I met a defense attorney who wishes to be known as Smash. Smash coined the term "Bald Brethren" to denote those of us who have shaved heads. Now "shaved' is way better than "bald", but I guess Smash is just big on alliteration.
Anyway, Smash introduced me to his two buddies and taught me something about Brightline law and how it relates to previous precedents and court rulings when a prosecutor decides to bring a case to court with the intent of getting a new precedent established. In most cases the idea is to push for an appeal through the appellate courts and the California Supreme court until a favorable ruling is achieved.
Back inside, Smash ordered me a beer (thanks, man) and we talked some about the bar. I excused myself after a bit and found Joaquin sitting at Table 4. I sat down to his left at Table 3 and Joaquin kindly introduced me to his brothers and his sister, and I found myself looking past him towards the beautiful ladies playing beer pong and sporting brand new Jack's Bar themed wife beaters. One woman had hers in her pocket and it looked like a bar rag on a bartender. Asian women just fill out wife beaters better than white women, that's all I'm sayin.
By now (if you're still reading and haven't gotten up to go watch TV or make some food) you've probably forgotten all about my half-made wish comment at the start. To wit: I wanted to find a woman with warm hands who would put them on my head and things would be all hunky-dory.
Instead, I ran into a short blond New Yorker with a taste for beards and a penchant for pointing out that I must, "...obviously have a receding hairline and a bald spot so that's why you shave your head and let your beard grow out because you're compensating."
What a great opening line! I can't wait to inseminate you and have sarcastic little babies together! (Not.)
In a heartbeat Drunk Blond New Yorker shifted gears from psychoanalyzing me to criticizing herself as her hands ran through my beard and she proceeded to compain about how she used to be blond and thin with big boobs and now she's got a fat ass, is over thirty and still single.
Fortunately, DBNW had a wing man whom I've met before: Taylor, aka WKRP, lives up the street, wears glasses, is married and is an all around cool person (she's writing a book with a cool plot idea, but I'll say no more about that).
Taylor ushered DBNW out of my face and back in the bar (to hit on Smashe's buddies and Joaquin's brothers) but otherwise stayed outside to finish her cigarette. Taylor and I got to talking and had a nice conversation about Cincinnati.
As I mentioned before, Travis was on the door and before long he and Taylor were traiding Flying Pig chilli recipe stories and what it's like to order a Sack of Chicken Assholes and have the folks at White Castle totally respond to that as though you'd said "I'd like an order of chicken rings please."
The time came for the bar to close, so I went out back to say goodbye to the ever beautiful Tall Nicole, said so long to Joaquin and Smash, did the same with Traps (I'm such an asshole for not saying "Happy Birthday" to him :sigh:) and went out front...
...only to be accosted by DBNW again. Taylor quietly mouthed "I'm sorry" over DBNW's shoulder as DBNW kept trying to unzip my hoodie "just two inches please, can I just open it two inches please?" and rub her hands all over my chest.
Once they were successfully moving in the right direction down the street, I excused myself and headed for my truck.
Later at iHop I ran into them both again. About that time I noticed how Taylor's reflection in the glass of the windows made her appear to look exactly like Tilda Swinton as she chatted with her friend. I couldn't tell if DBNW was listening or not. She seemed to spend half her time eating and the other half laid over sideways in the booth.
In closing, I hope you, Dear Reader, will not think too poorly of DBNW. We all have our nights and tonight was hers.
Be safe! Thank you for reading! See you Sunday at Jack's!
Some notes: Sailor Tod is now officially to be known as Dread Pirate Todd. Not because Todd did dreadful things with which to earn a Dreadful name, but because he thinks "Dread Pirate" sounds awesome, and I agree.
Besides, Dread Pirate Roberts has done way too much damage to the "Dread Pirate" moniker, what with his airy-fairy English accent and taste for black silk clothes. Why they don't call him Effeminate Pirate Roberts is beyond me.
We need someone with more class (and drinking ability) to take the name. Todd is the best choice. Having established this, let us proceeded to the events of Saturday evening as I recall them.
The night started late. I didn't even arrive at Jack's until after 10 p.m. Sugi was to have met me there with her sister, her sister's husband and his brother, but at the last minute they all canceled.
Having driven to the bar, I found myself sitting in my truck at the Happi House parking lot, listening to the end of How Soon is Now? by The Smiths play on 92.3 FM.
As the last notes played on the radio, Ras Dank rode by out of the blue with a big smile and a wave. Seeing Dank ride across the street to the bar brought me out of my musical reverie (memories of Catherine and the Boulder, Colorado club called Ground Zero at the forefront of my thoughts) and hastened my exit from my truck.
I didn't even look at The Rock this time, though I was parked right next to it. I suppose that if The Rock had legs I'd surely invite it inside. Alas, this can not be (we think The Rock is more or less bonded to the asphalt of the parking lot — it won't budge in the slightest when tested).
The air was cold. I could feel heat escaping from my freshly shaved scalp so I threw the hood of my black Jack's Bar & Lounge hoodie up to keep warm. I recall how soft the hood felt against the skin of my head and how this led to hope I'd find a woman, hopefully no more than buzzed, with a pair of warm hands and a desire to place them both on my head.
Drunk female attention is one thing, full faculty/minimally buzzed attention is another, and I much prefer the later, thank you very much. A pair of warm women's hands on my head on a cold night is nothing short of divine (you thought, perhaps, that I prefer beard attention? I don't mind it, but it's not at the top of my list.).
But wishes should never go half-formed in one's mind. Otherwise you'll get more than you ask for, as I was about to learn.
Travis was sitting on a bar stool at the door, checking IDs. I watched him more than I watched for traffic as I walked across the street, a short burst of adrenaline flowing through my veins as I battled down the worry feeling I always (always) get before I step into the bar. I shit you not it's like showing up for my first day of Junior High all over again every single time.
Inside the bar, DJ Traps was in full command of the sound system. It was Traps birthday last night and I'm sad to say it was kind of a slow night. I'm blaming Easter.
Ed and Wes were at the corner of the bar and Ed very kindly purchased for me a pitcher of beer with which to start my night. Jordan served it up while Tall Nicole worked the opposite half of the bar. Wes left to go out back and smoke, while Ed and I chatted as best we could over Traps' turntable ministrations.
Spike's Story:
A man we'll call Spike was nice enough to relate a tale to myself, ACME, Tempe and Ras Dank out on the back patio. His story was about getting robbed by a hooker, then robbing her right back. I should like to point out that, Tempe's claims to the contrary, the hooker was not in fact a transvestite.
His story begins in San Diego. As Spike tells it...
I was working in San Diego for a time. One night, a friend of mine who was in SEAL training called me up and said "Let's go down to TJ and get laid." I said OK so we headed on down there.
We got into town and went into a bar on Revolution Street. Pretty soon this nice looking lady walked up to me and we got down to business. She took me into the storage room and gave me a blowjob with a condom on, which was bullshit but hey I guess it's safe, right?
So as she's doing her thing I notice her hands are rifling through my pants pockets. I push her back and say "wait a minute!" and she says "no hablo Ingles" and I was like "you habloed just fine back in the bar. Now where's my money?"
So I hold her back with one hand as she tries to get past me and through the door, and I'm going through her purse and checking her bra and I find my $300 wad of cash. She yells for help (Ayudame, Ayudame!) and I can hear people banging on the door and things aren't looking good.
So I push her back, yank up my jeans, put my cash in my pocket and throw open the door. They stumble in and I jump past them out the door and into the bar. I yell at my friends to get the hell out of here and I run outside and up Revolution Street.
Half a block down I realized my dick was hanging out so I pulled off the condom and finished doing up my pants.
Further down I looked back and my friends are outside, and those assholes are pointing at me and the bar guys start chasing me!
Luckily a cab pulls up and I jump in and tell him I want to go right to the border. I take out my wad of cash and start counting it up and I've got $450 dollars.
The pain from laughing at that story was a good one. And yes, Dear Reader, if you did your maths you know that Spike made $150 dollars for a brief blowjob and a cardio workout.
Somehow or another the talk of hookers gave way to talk of mooseknuckles. Tempe has a Druid on World of Warcraft named Mooseknuckle.
A slow night means the back patio gets closed up early so before long we all had to make our way back inside. I kept looking around for the big weightlifter looking dude (I could see him playing beer pong earlier when I was outside) but he was nowhere to be found. That boy was massively muscled.
I met a nice couple named Suzanna and Jaime (i.e., himay, Dear Reader). They like to go to different bars and restaurants and really enjoyed being at Jack's. Jaime stopped me as I went to the bar to order more beer and asked if "you guys sell the black hoodies." I told him I didn't work at Jack's, but that Ras Dank, Nicole or Jordan could easily sell him one from their on-hand stock.
This was a great segway into pointing out that Tall Nicole is featured in several of Aimee B's works on the wall. Suzanna in particular was impressed by Aimee's work and we had a nice, shout-at-each-other conversation after that (the music was that loud).
Outside in the cold, I met a defense attorney who wishes to be known as Smash. Smash coined the term "Bald Brethren" to denote those of us who have shaved heads. Now "shaved' is way better than "bald", but I guess Smash is just big on alliteration.
Anyway, Smash introduced me to his two buddies and taught me something about Brightline law and how it relates to previous precedents and court rulings when a prosecutor decides to bring a case to court with the intent of getting a new precedent established. In most cases the idea is to push for an appeal through the appellate courts and the California Supreme court until a favorable ruling is achieved.
Back inside, Smash ordered me a beer (thanks, man) and we talked some about the bar. I excused myself after a bit and found Joaquin sitting at Table 4. I sat down to his left at Table 3 and Joaquin kindly introduced me to his brothers and his sister, and I found myself looking past him towards the beautiful ladies playing beer pong and sporting brand new Jack's Bar themed wife beaters. One woman had hers in her pocket and it looked like a bar rag on a bartender. Asian women just fill out wife beaters better than white women, that's all I'm sayin.
By now (if you're still reading and haven't gotten up to go watch TV or make some food) you've probably forgotten all about my half-made wish comment at the start. To wit: I wanted to find a woman with warm hands who would put them on my head and things would be all hunky-dory.
Instead, I ran into a short blond New Yorker with a taste for beards and a penchant for pointing out that I must, "...obviously have a receding hairline and a bald spot so that's why you shave your head and let your beard grow out because you're compensating."
What a great opening line! I can't wait to inseminate you and have sarcastic little babies together! (Not.)
In a heartbeat Drunk Blond New Yorker shifted gears from psychoanalyzing me to criticizing herself as her hands ran through my beard and she proceeded to compain about how she used to be blond and thin with big boobs and now she's got a fat ass, is over thirty and still single.
Fortunately, DBNW had a wing man whom I've met before: Taylor, aka WKRP, lives up the street, wears glasses, is married and is an all around cool person (she's writing a book with a cool plot idea, but I'll say no more about that).
Taylor ushered DBNW out of my face and back in the bar (to hit on Smashe's buddies and Joaquin's brothers) but otherwise stayed outside to finish her cigarette. Taylor and I got to talking and had a nice conversation about Cincinnati.
As I mentioned before, Travis was on the door and before long he and Taylor were traiding Flying Pig chilli recipe stories and what it's like to order a Sack of Chicken Assholes and have the folks at White Castle totally respond to that as though you'd said "I'd like an order of chicken rings please."
The time came for the bar to close, so I went out back to say goodbye to the ever beautiful Tall Nicole, said so long to Joaquin and Smash, did the same with Traps (I'm such an asshole for not saying "Happy Birthday" to him :sigh:) and went out front...
...only to be accosted by DBNW again. Taylor quietly mouthed "I'm sorry" over DBNW's shoulder as DBNW kept trying to unzip my hoodie "just two inches please, can I just open it two inches please?" and rub her hands all over my chest.
Once they were successfully moving in the right direction down the street, I excused myself and headed for my truck.
Later at iHop I ran into them both again. About that time I noticed how Taylor's reflection in the glass of the windows made her appear to look exactly like Tilda Swinton as she chatted with her friend. I couldn't tell if DBNW was listening or not. She seemed to spend half her time eating and the other half laid over sideways in the booth.
In closing, I hope you, Dear Reader, will not think too poorly of DBNW. We all have our nights and tonight was hers.
Be safe! Thank you for reading! See you Sunday at Jack's!
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