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!