Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Went to Jack's right after work. Ran out of money this week so I couldn't do much more than have a round and head home. When I got home my genius housemate suggested I ought to have stuck around anyway, but the whole fucking idea is to drink while watching the game and this salient point was lost on Brainiac and his unasked for suggestions.
To his credit he did point out that I would have been welcome to stay (and he's right, I would have..and I fucking hate it when he's right, even if it's just a minor fact) but beyond not being able to drink—I've something more of a taste for alcohol now—I just wouldn't feel right sitting in someone's establishment and basically taking up a seat at what would be a very crowded-for-the-Sharks-game bar without paying for it, i.e. be a not-paying customer.
Jack's is there to make some goddamn money; neither it nor the bartenders derive their collective existence from the pleasure of my company.
A very informal survey was of favorite hangover cures was conducted by me. But now I can't remember anything of what was said, except for something like Gatorade and Mexican food (tamales?).
Bang-Bang! Kla-Klow! mentioned to me that he's not a fan of the UFC. He suggested that they ought to just have the fighers oil themselves up and fuck each other on the mat. They could call it "GayFC" according to him.
I explained that they already do something like that in San Francisco inside the old armory building (now owned by Kink.com). Naked Kombat, if I'm not mistaken.
I probably wouldn't have known about Kink.com at all were it not for the fact that one of the female performers at Kink used to play the oboe at San Jose State back when I was dating Sugi (and Sugi was still in the SJSU music program).
That performer took on the name Bobbi Starr and word spread soon after. Interesting how people's lives change with time.
Met a man at the bar today named Eric. I asked if his name was spelled "Erik" and he said no (you just can't assume you know how people's names are spelled these days). My first impression of Eric was that he was an undercover police officer.
Eric asked me where I work. Then he told me he's an educator of some kind, though I didn't ask what grade he taught or if perhaps he's not in fact an administrator and not a teacher. I have two cousins who were teachers and are now principals, and I'm wondering if "educator" isn't a nice transition word that encompasses both career paths. You never know.
Eric had bushy eyebrows and looked like he had Middle Easter blood of some kind. I could be wrong about that, but guesstimating people's ethnicities is part of the fun.
What I liked about Eric was that 1) he introduced himself to me and recognized me by following the link from Jack's on Facebook to my blog, and 2) he's a friendly guy.
I admit I was a little put out by the pats on the shoulder and his foot on my barstool. That's the kind of close contact that I reserve for people I know well at the bar; people I've drank heavily with, talked with at the bar several times or otherwise said hello to so many times that I feel comfortable around them even if I don't know them very well.
Plus (and this is something Eric couldn't possibly know) that sort buddy buddy/not-necessarily-welcome-from-someone-I-don't-know behavior was common in the regional managers I worked under in retail, as well as in several of the outside sales reps I worked with in a prior job.
I am not a fan of these kinds of people.
But hey, I just met the dude, so why let it get to me, right? Better to hope to see Eric (and his seemingly mute friend, see below) again and get to know him better.
Congratulations Eric on the opportunity to live with your significant other. Sounds to me like you made the right move given her surprise situation and if you'll permit me to say: she's every bit as pretty as you said she was.
I could tell by the smile on Eric's face that he was proud she was with him. Sure it's tough to truly measure a smile on someone you hardly know, but the feelings expressed by Eric seemed genuine enough to me.
Thanks Eric for introducing me to your soon-to-be-graduating friend. Not much of a talker, that guy. He looked kind of nervous to me.
For the record: Tanisha was behind the bar today. She seemed tired to me. Several of the bartenders of late have looked a bit tired or otherwise under the weather.
Lastly, it should be noted that the streak is still alive and well. I have not kept up the blog, but my daily visits to Jack's Bar & Lounge are and will continue to be uninterrupted.
Before I let you go Dear Reader I want to let you know I will be having my Green Belt Test* for drinking this coming Saturday. The criteria for passing are rather simple: all I have to do is survive a trip on the (sold out) Jack's party bus.
Until next time, Dear Reader, take care. I may not write to you every day, but I think about you always.
*The colors of the belts progress as follows: White, Yellow, Green, Purple, Brown and Black. Everyone starts with White of course (you get it when you turn 21 and show up at your first bar). The criteria for earning each subsequent belt varies.
Only Drunken Masters can award a Black Belt in the art of drinking. There are a handful of such Masters at Jack's from whom I've been stealing techniques left and right. Some have even graced me with a lesson now and then.
If you have any ideas for what criteria should be required to earn a Purple or Brown belt in the seven months left on my journey, leave a comment below (you can do so anonymously).
Thanks for reading! :)