365 Days At Jack's Bar & Lounge, 167 E Taylor St, San Jose, CA

Day 365 plus 1 - A Review and Lessons Learned

2011-01-02T00:39:00.000-08:00

So it's all done. Rather, I'm all done.

Three hundred and sixty five days spent at one bar.

Every liquor bottle on the glass shelves sampled.

Every day at least one drink purchased. Usually a couple beers. I started with Blue Moon, but switched early on to Pabst Blue Ribbon. That works out to seven kegs of beer consumed. I'm proud of that.

Every day I tipped the bartender. Unless they waved me off.

Every day I tried to meet someone new.

Every day I tried to talk with someone I know besides the bartender.

Almost every day I wrote about my experiences. At first it was through this blog. Later I used Facebook to give "instant" updates, often texting the updates on my phone while hammered on beer and whiskey.

What have I learned from this experience? I've learned that San Jose and the Bay Area are filled with good, generous, beautiful people. I've learned what kinds of alcohol I do and don't like. I've learned that a bar isn't a place to try and disappear in.

People go to bars to talk; to find their friends and take a load off; to commiserate about shared experiences and common beliefs; to happen upon likeminded people and share the camaraderie that follows so naturally.

I've learned that bartenders, servers, chefs and cooks go to bars after they are done working at the bar or restaurant that employs them. These are the best people to know at any bar, in my experience.

I've learned I'm naturally shy, get nervous easy and worry too much. I'm still working on that. Not even a year at Jack's could burn these traits out of me.

I've learned there are beautiful, magical women to be found at Jack's. They have brilliant eyes, beaming smiles and a willingness to live life. They intimidate me by their sheer presence and prefer people be honest and upfront (always).

The best of them have a generous sense of humor and laugh easy (lady bartenders, I'm looking at you). If you are a man and try to surround yourself with such women, you can't not be happy (with apologies to Mr. Schultz, aka 8th grade English Teacher, for the double negative).

But enough of the dreamy stuff. Some other things I've learned that are worth sharing:

*It's just bar talk. It does not matter what someone (anyone; friends, acquaintances, lovers) says to you in a bar, whether a claim of fact, an opinion, a promise of some kind, a statement directed at you or the world in general. It's. Just. Bar. Talk. When you leave, it stays in the bar. There is more than one kind of freedom in this, if you think about it.

*Look around when you walk in the bar; don't just dash in and sit down. Figure out who the drunk people are—if any—and don't sit next to them, even if you know them. Keep your eyes open as time goes by and the drinks are consumed.

*Tip your bartender. Listen to your bartender. Give your bartender the leeway to make mistakes and even more leeway to make things right. Bartenders are not passive aggressive people. If they forget your drink on a busy night, you are not being singled out for punishment. Politely remind them you're still waiting and let them make it right. A bartender who has reason to believe from experience that you are a good, patient customer will do more for you than you might realize. Fast, instant service is just the tip of this very generous iceberg.

*If the bartender charges you less than regular price for a drink, include the difference in your tip.

*When you greet someone you know at the bar, look them in the eye and smile. Do not scan the bar or pay attention to others while you shake their hand or hug them. The bar is a place to socialize, but individual one on one manners still apply.

*Accept kindness. If someone buys you a drink, don't keep a mental tally to be paid back later. People who are genuinely kind to others garner happiness and a positive feeling from the act of being kind. Let them have that.

*Realize that everyone at the bar (even the ones you don't know) has the potential to make your day. The magic of the bar is this: someone could have just had the shittiest, most rotten day of their lives, but when they walk in the bar, sit down next to you and do any number of things as you talk to each other (mention a cool author you've never read before; instantly know the name of a song or movie or actor you can't for the life of you remember; relate a life experience in a way that draws you in to the story and expands your knowledge of the world and the unique person telling it), they've added value to your experience at the bar and made your day better.

*Learn a little bit about everyone at the bar. Talk and listen. Don't worry and fidget. Get in there and mix it up. Don't take offense if someone doesn't talk back.

*It's not always worth it to talk to everyone at the bar. This I know from spittle-from-your-drunk ass mouth-landing-in-my-eye experience.

*It does not matter if a man desires a woman. If she isn't interested, he will get nowhere with her at the bar.

*If a man is interested in a woman and she deigns to show interest, he'd better be ready to respond. This includes being able to dance. This includes being able to ask open ended questions. This includes listening. Failure in this regard is the stuff regrets are made of.

*Never assume a woman who talks to you is hitting on you. Ever.

*Sometimes people who are angry and want to fight just need a good hug. But beware: if they're drunk they'll stay emotional and keep coming back for more hugs and handshakes. Sometimes they will hug-carry you to their friends, as though you're in a two-legged race together and lost your leg strap so drunk-guy is kindly carrying you the rest of the way. Another from-experience piece of advice there.

*Rely on the door people and the bartenders to take care of troublesome people. Don't take matters into your own hands (even when you really, really want to crush some drunk motherfucker for putting his hand halfway up a random woman's ass as she walks by).

*Smile. Always and often. Breathe and let the alcohol course through you. People are loosening up through their drinks just like you are. This is when the good conversations start.

*Never linger after closing time unless specifically invited to. Otherwise you're in the way of people who want to clean up and go the hell home.

*Being in the bar is a privilege, not a right. It does not matter how much you spend, how many people you bring with you to the bar or how often you patronize the establishment. It's still someone else's business. Yes you are a customer, but that doesn't mean you have cart blanche to do as you will. Your efforts will bring you rewards, just don't expect it or demand it.

*I hereby declare I have gotten myself completely hammered smiley faced drunk at least once a week this year. 52 hangovers have taught me the following: force yourself to drink lots of water (one of the mid-size sport top bottles: mine are about 23 ounces and work great) before you go to bed. Then get as much sleep as possible because sleep kills hangovers better than any other remedy, in my not so humble opinion. If you're hungover during the week and have to get up early for work, drink one cup of coffee and a cup of orange juice ASAP in the morning. Then drink another 23 ounces of water before you go out the door (hell, drink it before you get in the shower while the water is warming up). Eat good (not greasy) food as soon as you can. Keep drinking water and only take aspirin if the headache refuses to go away. (NOT acetaminophen! Are you trying to burn a hole in your stomach and shock your still-drunk liver into quitting on you?!)

*You can find true love anywhere. This includes Jack's Bar & Lounge. Just remember, true love takes work; i.e. several dates, enthusiasm and patience. True love is not getting drunk and bedding someone the same night you met them at the bar.

These are the main lessons I've learned. There are more lessons, I'm sure, but there's no need for that much detail. You can handle the rest on your own, Dear Reader, just as I'm sure your own bar lessons will differ from mine.

Thank you to everyone at Jack's, from the bartenders to the newest of the new people I met New Year's night, for teaching me some of these lessons and giving me the leeway to learn the rest on my own. I love you all.

See you in the future at Jack's!

Day 360 - Full Circle and All That

2010-12-27T01:38:00.000-08:00

A note to Miss Stephanie:

Our last conversation didn't go as I'd meant it, because I didn't think it out well enough beforehand. That and I was nervous.

I always get nervous around women...but this is something you already know. ;)

What I should have said was this: back towards the beginning of my year at Jack's, you helped me realize that I didn't have the skill to talk to a woman one on one at the bar. (Remember that time we were alone at a table and I walked away because I was too afraid and just didn't know what to ask you when you said "ask me anything"?)

I resolved to try harder after that. A few months later I met a woman at the bar and asked her out on a "non date". That meeting led to another non-date, then another. Fast forward a few more months and now we're happily together and I want to marry her.

Thank you for teaching me that a man should be ready when a woman gives him her complete attention. Thank you also for teaching me that beauty is something rendered from who people are; it's a composite of their lives, their passions and their feelings. Beauty has very little to do with what people look like.

Discovering beauty in others comes from talking to them. You taught me this, with your descriptions about you and your life. Listening to your stories was like hearing a book being read aloud. Every word you spoke made you more complete and more real. I found that to be both amazing and hugely intimidating.

Thank you for that lesson.

It was good to see you at the bar tonight. You'll always hold a special place in my heart, Miss Stephanie. Please take care and please see to your happiness as much as possible. You are a beautiful woman and deserve all the happiness in the world.

Day 326 - Muppets Behind the Bar!

2010-11-22T11:18:00.000-08:00

Today’s one of those days at work where I’m imagining which Muppet Characters would best fit the bartenders at Jack’s.

When Aimee came to mind, my first thought was Oscar the Grouch.

Then I remembered he’s not a Muppet. He’s also not a she. Hrm…

It all started with my idle mind conjuring up an image of the Muppets taking over Jack’s. It was just Kermit at first, and then I imagined myself as Jim Henson, operating Kermit from below.

As soon as the bar owner shows up, Kermit freaks and then disappears under the bar. An instant later he pops back up, but in disguise as Tanisha, complete with bee hive hairdo and big (yarn) boobs.

Then the owner says, “You aren’t supposed to be here,” to Kermit before saying hello to a customer, so Kermit flies underneath the bar again and reappears an instant later dressed as Aimee. He’s having problems with his disguise though; all of his press on tattoos (little kid ones) are peeling off.

Absent Kermit trying to be everyone, which other Muppets would match up to each bartender best? Tanisha as Miss Piggy? Charlie as Fozzie Bear?

Day 314 – Baby Beers

2010-11-11T09:35:00.000-08:00

After-work bar visits are more fun when you’re in the bar, anticipating the moment when your girlfriend walks through the front door, her eyes scanning the crowd for you.

You imagine the smile on her face as your eyes find her brilliant brown peepers. You wonder what she’ll be wearing: warm sweater or winter coat with scarf? You can imagine the texture of both under your hands because you’ve held her close in both outfits before. Will she be wearing perfume? How will her hair smell? Or will you not be able to tell at first because she’ll be wearing the gray beanie that she looks so pretty in? The one you gave her the other morning when her hair was wet from the shower and she didn’t have time to dry it because you’d spent a good chunk of the morning shower time doing something else in bed?

You know you’ll feel the cold on her clothes and especially on her hands and you’ll be glad she’s in the bar where the temperature is set as much by heat emanating from the bodies of bar patrons as any warmth flowing out of the overhead vents from some unseen heating unit.

Regardless you’ll hold her close and make sure her cold hands find their way into your warm ones before she so much as touches a cold beer glass.

The best part is when she walks through the front door and all your questions are laid to rest.

Thanks go out to:

Thunder “Errol Flynn” P. for the Amaretto whiskey shot and the cherry vodka shot. You always go out of your way to treat everyone great at the bar, including those of us who may or may not have tried to insert large pieces of construction grade lumber into your rectum when you were passed out.

Tanisha for the baby beers. You kept me and Priscilla going while we waited for Christian to finish up so the three of us could head out and learn the fine art of Emma-sitting at his place.

Aimee B. for being an awesome bartender. I hope your piggy banks all fill up fast and you get to travel to awesome places.

See you Thursday at Jack’s!

:)

So last night at the bar...

2010-11-10T09:15:00.000-08:00

...Rod, the former Marine Captain, had to walk himself in the rain to Der Wienerschnitzel to purchase coffee so Travis (the bartender) could make Rod an Irish coffee.

Rod announced that Der's coffee is pretty good. Travis even served up the drink in some sort of fluted glass with a handle that I've never seen before at Jack's, but that looked like it'd be right at home in some barista's arsenal of glassware to serve his or her customers with.

What the hell else do they have hiding behind the bar that I don't know about?

I think I need to get really drunk there and get myself locked in overnight. Then the exploring will commence.

And when I'm done, I can make a nice bed out of spent cardboard boxes (the ones left over after the restocking is done) to sleep on, like Charlie did once. I know this is possible because I saw the picture. It. Was. Awesome.

See you at Wednesday at Jack's!

[P.S.: Hi blog! I missed you!]

Day 277 (88 days left) - Why Do Big Women Get Dissed?

2010-10-04T22:05:00.000-07:00

OK, let me preface this post by saying the men of the bar are pretty much good people. They're polite, well meaning and basically don't go out of their way to make other people uncomfortable.

For all that, if you get a few of us together you sometimes hear jokes or comments about big women who come into the bar. If one of our number hits on a big woman, the guys will laugh at and tease the guy doing the flirting (especially if he's in his cups and basically ambles right up to her and sits down after the woman so much as looks in his direction).

Let me state here and now I've done a bit of laughing at a friend's expense under just such a scenario.

More to the point: there are some ideas (memes) about big women I've heard repeated by several different men at the bar, whether the men are sober or good and buzzed.

The two most common memes are 1) that big women don't get as much sex as other women, and 2) big women are desperate for sex and relationships so they'll chase drunk guys (after downing several drinks themselves) just so they can get a guy and bring him home.

My response to these memes: bullshit.

First of all, what the fuck counts as a "big woman"? Do you go by height? Hips? Ass? General body shape? Women come in all different shapes and sizes...I've seen women get pointed out and laughed at who weren't truly overwieght, but just because they had large hips or a short, square-ish frame...why does that make them something to joke about?

By that measure, half the roller girls I've seen should be considered undesirable (wide hips and muscled thighs owing to skating). Yet in my opinion these are some of the most amazingly sexy women ever to grace Jack's Bar with their presence.

And as for the women that are truly overweight, so what? There are fat men...why aren't they the subject of jokes or under-the-breath ridicule from the ladies? Sure women will blow off men they find to be unattractive, but a confident "fat" guy can do pretty well with women because women tend to find confidence attractive (this is something I've heard repeatedly from several women at the bar over the past nine months; I've also seen it in action at the bar, time and again). Why don't confident big women get the same respect (hellz, even just half a chance) from men?

In my experience, big women are just as good in bed as any other woman. I'm no (s)expert, but this is one thing I'll hang my hat on: big women get just as wet, work just as hard at foreplay, come just as hard (and just as frequently) and want it just as bad as thin women.

From watching people at the bar over the last nine months it's my opinion that a "thin" woman who's not had sex in weeks or months is no less or more likely than a "big" woman to have some drinks, loosen herself up and find a partner. (Men, it should be noted, do the same thing. And they're far more obnoxious about it when they're drunk then women are.)

Please don't take this as me stating all women are loose. What I'm saying is that the population of women who will engage in this sort of behavior is comprised of women of all shapes and sizes.

You can't just pin it on "big" girls and some bullshit notion of desperation.

It frustrates me that pointless societal notions of what's considered pretty, attractive, sexy and desirable fall under such base, thoughtless criteria as body type and size.

Granted men are free to live their own lives, so they're going to have their own preferences about what kind of woman they're attracted to.

All I'm saying is that I wish for fuck's sake that men would pull their collective heads out of their asses and really stop to think and consider a big woman instead of automatically disregarding her because of her size. Big women are smart, sexy, have a life history worth knowing and are possessed of desires every bit as powerful as any other woman.

It's not a "big" woman's fault if a man is chicken shit* and not up to the challenge of approaching her, flirting with her, bedding her and pleasing her.

See you tomorrow at Jack's!

*You might be offended by this line (for which I apologize). If so, your mental response to my statement might be, “I’m not chicken shit, I just don’t like big girls.”

This all may be true, but have you stopped to really think about why you feel this way? I dare you to honestly assess your thought process. If you do, I'll wager you come to realize your reasoning is based on assumptions rooted in biases that you picked up when you were twelve years old. Ever since then you’ve been looking for half-truths to confirm the bias true, not looking for reasons to debunk it.

Day 272 (93 Days Left) - Jeff Had a Stroke

2010-09-29T22:48:00.000-07:00

Today I learned that one of the former bartenders at Jack's—Jeff—had a stroke.

My thoughts and prayers and those of your friends go out to you Jeff. I love you very much buddy and wish you the speediest and most comfortable of recoveries.

If any of you who read this blog from time to time get to see Jeff in the hospital, please do your best to remain as absolutely positive as you can when you see him.

Having read My Stroke of Insight recently, I can tell you that one of that book author's main points is that people who have strokes can recover from a stroke, but the recovery is contingent upon the victim being surrounded by extremely positive people who always encourage, but never lose patience and never give up.

If you see Jeff, please keep these ideas in mind. If the Doctor and Nurses seem to forget these concepts, remind them of these facts in a civil manner. Also, it wouldn't hurt to draw the blinds as bright light can exacerbate the pain in the beginning of recovery.

One of my favorite memories of Jeff is how he always stood up to people. He wasn't rude, just businesslike and to the point. If someone was rude to him or said something inappropriate (like bluntly implying or outright calling him a racist) he'd simply invite that person in close, lean over the bar and tell them to their face that A) he's not a racist and B) not to call him that again, especially when he's working and serving people at the bar.

It was like he knew where he stood at all times in the bar, and so was unshakable from that foundation. This is something I've always admired about him and always will.

Countdown: 99 Days Left! (Day 366)

2010-09-23T23:07:00.000-07:00

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Dear Reader,

I don't drive anymore. Did I tell you?

I voluntarily suspended my vehicle insurance (they let you do that for six months at a time at my insurer) and I registered my truck as non-operational.

Why do such a crazy thing in a city (hell, a country) where vehicle ownership is practically mandatory to get by? Couple reasons, actually.

One is saving money. Another is I can't get a DUI this way (though I can get a BUI [i.e. Biking Under the Influence] which I hear can be near as bad as a DUI penalty wise). Lastly, I'm less likely to turn my truck into a 2000 pound battering ram of death when it's perma-parked in my driveway.

What will I do with the money saved on insurance and gas, you ask?

Probably spend it at Jack's Bar & Lounge in order to complete my goal of sampling every bottle on the shelves of the bar before the year is out. ;)

Lord knows I'll be thirsty enough to do it, considering that hauling my lard ass around on a bicycle every day has left my thighs in fits. I swear they're ready to pick up stakes and move to a new, more sedentary body belonging to someone else.

It was those same wobbly legs that I used to walk myself into Jack's this afternoon right after a ride through downtown San Jose from the train station. The usual bunch of Thursday regulars were in attendance.

One of these was Devito. Myself, him and Matt the Builder (who says Bob should get all the credit?) had a lengthy discussion about the merits and flaws of Evgeni Nabakov's departure from the Sharks after several years of excellence. Nabokov is going to play in a Russian League, which means he won't get to break several Hockey Records for goaltending that he was on track to topple.

In addition to my regular pint of beer I sampled the Effen Vodka, which is a black cherry and vanilla vodka made in Holland. When I asked for a screwdriver, Tanisha offered to make it how she would drink it. As usual the result was awesome: Effen, orange juice and a splash of 7-up over ice.

I left with a good buzz and yet another set of happy memories from Jack's. 98 more days left after this and I think I'm going to miss it. Not saying I'm leaving Jack's after the year's over; rather that it feels good to know there's always one part of my day that will always be awesome no matter what.

Thanks to Tanisha for the drink and for the insta-beer as soon as I walked in the door. That's forever damn awesome.

See you Friday at Jack's!

Day 235 - A Simple Night

2010-08-23T23:00:00.000-07:00

Monday, August 23rd

I walked to Jack's tonight. It was a warm night out; the crickets and the air conditioners knew this because unlike last week (when I walked to Jack's and it was silent out but for the sounds of cars rolling buy) tonight everyone and their mother who had an AC unit was running it and the crickets were chirping away in the light of the full moon.

Walking into the bar I was greeted to by the sound of the bartenders and regulars saying my name out loud. I so feel like Norm (from Cheers). And you know what, it's a pretty fucking awesome feeling. Thank you all for the warm greeting.

I spoke to Trey tonight. He's a young kid (well, young man) with a solid head on his shoulders and a load of good stories for someone fresh out of college. If you ever meet him, take the time to ask him about the victory arch some kids formed for him as he was completing the return leg of a three block run wearing only a pair of skivvies plus the shoes he wanted to buy from the store owner who dared him to make the run for a $10 discount on the shoes. (The skivvies were complementary, as it turned out).

We swapped stories and I told him of my adventures in Long Beach for the Flugtag over the weekend. Now that I think about it, the trip was more like a three day journey to Huntington Beach, with a side-trip to Long Beach on Saturday.

The reggae seemed like it started kind of late so I didn't get to hear any of the good music; it's too bad I had to go to bed early tonight because reggae has its hooks in me and whenever I hear it I want to dance to it. But I did get to see some pretty ladies who were real nice to my beard before they graced me with sincere smiles and gave me warm fairwell hugs as they departed.

I'm also convinced Grant can punch a hole through a 2x4 with his thumbs. Only thumbs that strong are capable of kneeding the ever present knots out of my shoulders.

The walk back home was uneventful. I do wish I could have spoke to Wes a bit longer, but I'll see him again.

Night all. See you Tuesday at Jack's.

Day 223 - Did You Need A Tampon?

2010-08-11T22:38:00.000-07:00

"A little sip of Perrier here. I had to stop drinking alcohol because I used to wake up nude in front of my car with my keys in my ass."
--Robin Williams, Live At The Met

I like walking into Jack's in the midst of a conversation going on between patrons and the bartender.

For example, today I walked in as the bartender was saying to the largest and quite possibly the most dangerous man in the bar, "I see your vagina's bleeding. I've got a tampon if you need one."

Hehe. Good start.

Today at Jack's a man introduced himself to me. Turns out this guy was making his first trip to Jack's Bar & Lounge.

He'd sat quietly watching the TVs until at one point he asked Aimee B. what the Flugtag was all about (there's signs all over the bar for it). She gave a general description which I was happy to elaborate on: five dudes, one themed "flying" contraption, no taller than 10' and has to be pushed off the edge of a 30' tall pier.

The new guy said they ought to have a party bus follow the Flying Rock Clan and their contraption (a flying rock) from Jack's to Long Beach for the event.

This led to me telling the guy about my first and only trip on a Jack's party bus, at which point he noted he was originally from Chicago and "back home" they used to have so many neighborhood bars that you'd go on busses to the White Sox game, then come home and there'd be tons of food laid out at each bar for people to eat no charge and have a drink with.

He said he's been gone so long that he's not sure what it's like anymore. Just like me this guy has been moving up the coast of California over the years, following work and opportunities as they come along. Unlike me, he made the jump from San Diego to "the city" (i.e. San Francisco) and has been slowly moving down the peninsula until he finally ended up in San Jose.

The guy had the kind of short, one syllable name you'd associate with a mid-level mafia boss, but since I didn't get his permission to use it I won't post it here. Hope to see him again.

Not much more happened after that as I'm still on the one-and-out program this week.

See you Thursday at Jack's. Wait..before I forget: Aimee B.'s behind the bar this Sunday morning from 11 to about 5 or so. Sunday mornings are tough if you're nursing a hangover, but it's not so bad when you visit Aimee and have a round or two while you count the minutes until the headache goes away.

Come and visit, if you have the chance (and the intestinal fortitude to drag your hungover self out of the house—a pair of cheap sunglasses helps, believe me).

Day 222 - Some Real Hard Lessons Learned...I Just Hope They Take

2010-08-10T22:18:00.000-07:00

Lessons learned at the bar today.

1. Man up. If you messed up, let people effected by and concerned with your behavior know that you realize you screwed up and that you apologize for your behavior. Don’t wait around. Talk to everyone you think might have been effected.

2. We all have a responsibility to check each other at the bar. It does not matter that some or most of us have gone on drunken benders in the past. It does not matter if we're all friends with an otherwise high tolerance for drunken shenanigans. If one of our number is out of line, regardless of who that person is and regardless of our own past nutty drunk actions, it's the responsibility of those of us "still in line" to check that person. A good rule of thumb is this: if the action would get you tossed out of any other bar, then the person in question needs to be checked. This does not automatically mean a confrontation; a request for help from the bartender or door person works just fine.

3. Speak your mind. If someone wrongs you or wrongs someone you care about, speak up. It does not matter if they're drunk, belligerent or sure to respond negatively: speak your mind without delay. However, don't sweat the small stuff; only something that well and truly bothers you requires the effort to speak your peace. And when you do speak your mind, be simple, direct and honest. Don't look to start a fight—instead state the facts and your feelings. Don't fear consequences. Get it off your chest and be clear about it. The bar will support you in the long run.

I'm glad I learned these lessons and I'm thankful to the people who taught them to me tonight. To tell you the truth I'd pretty much determined I wasn't going on the Flugtag trip later this month, but now I'm feeling enthused again. Because of tonight I'm not turned off on the idea of going on the trip like I'd felt the past couple days.

As for the particulars of why these lessons were learned: no need to discuss that. I'd very much like to give you the reader some context—and in just about any other bar situation I would—but not this time because it's too close to me and others. Thus, there's no need for names.

You know who you are and you both mean a lot to me. Thanks.

Other random thoughts and notes in no particular order:

Thanks to Devito for coming down to see if I was at the bar today. I'm sorry I all but abandoned you like as soon as I got in the door and that I couldn't make time tonight to do some serious foosball training (you really need to level that table anyway -- it totally favors the home team in my not so humble opinion) but we can make up for lost time in the near future.

I'm looking forward to George Clinton this Friday and possibly a room with a view just prior to the show. Thanks you-know-who (no, not Voldermort) for the Friday invite.

Thanks to Christian for squaring away the Flugtag trip plans.

@Erin A.: On Sunday you told me that you read my blog and really enjoy what I write. I responded that I hadn't written in awhile and my tone came off somewhat accusatory, as though I were implying you actually hadn't read the blog recently because that would not have been possible due to the scarcity of posts.

You paused, then said you did in fact like the stuff of mine I had written.

I'd like to take this chance to apologize. When I said I hadn't written much of late, I meant it as more of an apology/excuse and not as a "Aha! Caught you!" type of accusation. You see I felt bad for not writing regular, consistent posts to the blog after having earned the privilege of good people like you taking the time to read what I write.

Your praise means all the world to me and I really do appreciate your taking the time to check in on the blog.

One last thing: Tanisha, thank you very much for poring a beer and handing it to me in person. I hope you know it's a real privilege to receive that kind of service and I don't take it for granted.

Day 216 - Stealing Poetry

2010-08-04T21:17:00.000-07:00

Not stealing, actually. More like borrowing without permission.

Today at work I ran across a poem that was drinking related, so I'm going to post it here because A) it's topical to the blog, B) you obviously haven't been reading any poetry lately (and that's not healthy), C) I think it's cool and D) nobody who reads this blog will make a fuss about me borrowing the poem anyway (amirite?)*.

Without further ado:

"For the Drunk"
by Carole Oles
This being part two of a set of two poems found in Tri-Quarterly, #61, Fall 1984, page 98.

Where the river cleaves
our city from theirs
I watch from the sidewalk at 10 a.m.
him dart in front of the ranch wagon
which rocks to a stop
as he bends, disappears, behind the front fender

muttering, scoops up a handful of something,
cover it, with the dome of his palm,
zigzags onto the pavement
where the wind yanks
off his hat and drops it in traffic.

I'm reading his back
Santucci Bros. Contractor
wondering is it safe
to walk close when he

unlids what almost killed him —
two black bars on a yellow down face,
the most lost, puzzled duckling
that ever wanted its mama.

I handed him his hat.

So...if you see a drunk during your wider travels around the world, be kind. You can keep your windows rolled up, of course. Just don't assume the worst of him or her, especially if it's me (I'm not a drunk, but I do one hell of an impersonation).

...and in case you're wondering if I work in a book store or have lots of time to look shit up online...well you're close.

I work at a library in a very esteemed university here in the Bay Area (rhymes with, well, whatever Stanford rhymes with) . I don't work for the University, rather I work for a popular tech company (rhymes with frugal) that happens to have a voracious taste for books, new and old.

See you Thursday at Jack's.

*Carole Oles did graduate from the University of California at Berkeley (and Queens College) so that's like "E)" on the list of reasons.

Day 209 - Socially Promiscuous

2010-07-28T20:16:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, July 28th, 2010

Am I socially promiscuous? That is, do I intend to meet lots of people (at Jack's) at least once and then not talk to them again?

Yes. And no.

Yes, because there are always people I'll be introduced to by my bar friends that I'll likely never see again. I'm happy that I've re-met a good percentage of these met-only-one-time-before-people...say 30% or 40%...but most of them are people I won't meet again.

I'm also sometimes still hesitant to talk to people I've met before, so even if I see someone again that I sort of recognize I don't always have the courage to approach them (though I'm working on that).

No, because the set of people I know who go to Jack's regularly are people I always try to talk to if I'm sitting next to them or am within earshot. Even if it's just a handshake, that counts for something.

....................

Today at Jack's there wasn't much to report. I had a fast beer and was out the door pretty quick.

Aimee did get sprayed by a recalcitrant beer keg that wasn't in the mood to cooperate. This meant there was no PBR on tap (bad keg + recalcitrant keg = fail), so it was tall cans from that point forward.

I got the last PBR on tap, now that I think about it. Anyway, Aimee cleaned up pretty fast and Travis was on hand to help set things right with the kegs.

Some guys to the left of where I sat at the bar looked to be big time soccer fans. One even more an Earthquakes jersey and both fellas were talking in a rather knowledgeable way about the English Premier League.

I hesitated only briefly before asking them what the difference was between the English Premier League and the Champions League.

You see there happened to be an exhibition soccer match on TV #1 that these two guys were watching. The game was between a US-based Major League Soccer team and a team from the British Premiere League and although the sound wasn't on the news-like ticker at the bottom of the screen kept scrolling news about something called the Champions League.

They were nice enough to explain that the Champions League would be like something designed to bring together the winner of the World Series in the States and the baseball champions from other countries (like Japan and possibly Cuba, etc...) for a final playoff.

In the case of the Champions League, it's comprised of teams from each of the major soccer leagues in Europe (like the English Premier League for Great Britain) who all play each other to determine who's the best in the region.

As the man to my left put it, "You know how we had the World Cup? Well this is like the European Cup".

There were several regulars in the bar but I didn't get to do much more than say hello and shake hands.

See you Thursday at Jack's!

Day 208 - Holding Your Own at Jack's (and an alcohol radiation factoid)

2010-07-27T21:55:00.000-07:00

Alcohol is radioactive too—at least the kind we drink. Rubbing alcohol usually isn't, unless it was made organically—that is, from wood. In fact, the US Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives tests wine, gin, whiskey, and vodka for radioactivity. A fifth of whiskey must emit at least 400 beta rays every minute or the drink is considered unfit for human consumption.

...from Physics For Future Presidents, by Richard A. Muller (W. W. Norton; New York, London; 2008)

A little factoid for you, Dear Reader. Something you can pigeonhole the resident science geek in your local bar (or wherever) in the event you need to knock him or her down a peg or two.

In other, non-radioactive news, today at the bar I practiced the art of keeping my space.

I also practiced the art of holding my own in a conversation.

Now if you know me at all then you know I'm a natural listener. You talk while I sit right next to you and listen intently; occasionally I'll nod my head in a sage-like manner indicating I understand what you're saying; I'll rarely interrupt when you're on a roll unless I really don't understand something; I mentally catalog as much as I can (that's interesting) for later use in the blog.

Truth is it's hard for me to keep focus when I do this. The art of not letting my mind wander towards worries or issues or whatever's on the back burner of my brain while someone is talking with (well, to) me at the bar is a skill I've been practicing, but haven't mastered.

Part of this stems from my habit of going to Jack's to turn my brain off; sometimes I just want to zone out even when others are trying to talk to me. Other times I want to interact with others, but am too afraid of offending them or otherwise working up the nerve to really talk with someone in a truly interactive way.

What I'm coming to realize is that actively concentration based on just listening to someone isn't best in a bar situation. Yes, you want to listen to them obviously, but that's only the half of it. You need to talk back and otherwise interact with someone since bar interactions are primarily conversations and not something like unto a student-teacher interaction.

My problem is, I think, that since I'm not actively chatting back at someone my brain uses up its remaining potential to ponder other things (even when I'm zoning out), which ultimately distracts me.

Today though I didn't wait to catch myself mentally strolling away from the conversation. And I didn't allow myself to get "cornered" when there were several empty seats at the center of the bar.

As soon as space freed up I moved one seat away from a bar buddy of mine. Gave myself a seat's worth of space either side of me. Right as I did it, it felt good to have that space.

When my bar buddy saw this, he half-seriously said "I'm slightly offended you moved over."

I just said, "Don't worry about it" in a tone that really meant just that. Then I told him I needed some space around me and went right back to the tall can of PBR Tanisha had served me when I came in earlier.

And it felt just fine to do that. With space on either side of me, I could opt to not face my bar buddy if I didn't want to during the conversation that was sure to come, even if he turned to face me and look right at me while talking. Plus I figured he'd not put his hand (specifically a few of his fingers) on me to emphasize a point as he's wont to do.

Not that long after I moved over one seat my bar buddy chatted me up (toldja he would...and I was wrong about him not trying to touch me to emphasize a point: he reached right over and did it anyway, but at least the touching was much less so than before + I didn't have to deal with alcohol breath and him leaning in too close).

During today's conversation I picked moments to cut in. Not rudely, but in a way that allowed me to follow my own thoughts by saying them out loud. I asked questions and steered the conversation to topics tangentially related to the main focus.

I never realized just how thoroughly I let myself get run over sometimes (conversationally speaking) at the bar. Some folks at the bar like my bar buddy—well meaning though they might be—will just mow right over you if you let them. Even if you try to cut in, they'll keep pushing forward by talking over you. My bar buddy knows this on some level, I think. As you can probably imagine it's not that hard to talk at me if you want.

As I was leaving (that's another thing I did: when my beer was done, I got up even though we were mid-conversation...normally I'd stick around to hear the end or even buy a courtesy beer and stay to chat longer, but not today) my bar buddy told me he really enjoyed our conversation. He usually says something like this anywyas, but today he sure sounded like he meant it.

Based off today's success I'm going to continue trying to walk into Jack's with a brain that's revved up and ready to go.

That makes for the best interactions with other people + let's me establish my "space" at the bar. I feel more of an equal that way too. And that's a good feeling.

See you Wednesday at Jack's!

Day 207 - Did you miss me, Dear Reader?

2010-07-26T22:40:00.000-07:00

I missed you. I hope you are well. In case we don't see each other here again soon, you can always find me on Facebook. There's a link here on the blog (lower left corner) that features my FB updates as I post them

Note I always post at least one update on FB per day is about Jack's.

Send me a friend invite. I can always use more friends (and so can you, I imagine).

....................

The hardest part about today was that I couldn't even look at her for more than a few seconds.

I mean it was tough enough with Moe and Melissa there, but Katie is always too much for me to handle.

Being around her is like being 13 again. You're a pubescent teen in school and you realize there are girls in close proximity to you—even when they're halfway across the classroom (or in this case the bar) it's still enough to leave you panicky.

Someone like Katie catches your eye and you become completely unnerved and realize you don't know what to say to her. And even when you do know what to say you're self-critical of everything that comes out of your mouth as you're saying it.

Later, when you're at home, images of her play across your mind's eye while you're busy trying to get things done like homework, or in my case weeding and watering the garden. Or cooking dinner.

Figuring out how to talk to her is a challenge. One I haven't solved yet.

See you Tuesday at Jack's!

It's been awhile, hasn't it?

2010-07-06T01:35:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile, hasn't it?

Indeed, it has.

I started this post wanting to point out how the most beautiful women found at Jack's are on average to be found on a Monday night.

But now I find myself thinking about you.

How have you been, Dear Reader? Are you well?

More important: are you happy?

If not, what can I do to help?

Your happiness matters, after all. To me if nobody else.

And that's the truth.

I saw people at the bar tonight. A reggae night, it was.

Men and women...were they happy? Was Crystal happy letting that SOB off easy? Was Fallon happy with the man she walked in with?

P.McGee seemed happy.

And I admit, she made me happy just because she was there. Mercedes didn't hurt either. Nor Travis, Rina (on the bar) and Caitlin just as they are. Travis made it easy on me to show up tonight.

It's not always easy for me to arrive comfortable at the bar.

K.C. and G-Nyze were there and it was good. Ras Dank too, after a strategic wake up call from K.C. ;)

And now I'm wandering about in my own blog post, thinking more about all the people who made me feel good and not about you.

I hope you are well when you read this.

I hope good fortune comes your way.

I hope you sleep well.

I hope you find a better day.

-J.

edit: P. McGee said it right when she opined that it's hard for folks to have just one drink at Jack's. Take tonight, for example. ;) Thanks Chriss for the shots, Travis for the beer and the shot (drank with Caitlin, that was a pleasure and a rare treat) and Chriss and Fallon for the further shot offers.

Tonight's lesson was all about learning to say no, that I might survive the second half of this year...and be able to perform in bed when called upon. ;) But mostly it's about surviving (and keeping my day job).

Take care, Dear Reader. Take care.

And if you can't sleep, download Pink Martini on your iTunes and listen to the album "Hang On Little Tomato". Their song Let's Never Stop Falling In Love always gets me (and puts me to sleep, with nice starter dreams).

Sweet Dreams, then. See you at Jack's sometime in the future!

Day 165 - 171: Gooooooooooooaaaaaaaaal! (and the US Got Robbed!)

2010-06-22T20:48:00.000-07:00

June 14th to June 20th, 2010

Bar Factoid: One of the lovely bartenders at Jack's used to be a ballerina. Can you guess which one?

Jack's was pretty much open early (like 6 or 7 a.m. early) all this week for the World Cup. They still have black Jack's logo T-Shirts—featuring the World Cup logo also—for sale at $10 bucks a pop and still have some stock left too.

Thus the bartenders have been working epic schedules, and some days it showed. ;)

Monday the 14th notes:

Aimee didn't greet me with her usual JEREMY! holler. She was listening to Tanisha tell her a story. Of course sensitive me got worried (was she mad 'cause I hadn't yet paid up on that picture I've been giving her bits of cash for over time?), but I told myself to stop worrying.

Even when she talked to other bald dude, I got worried, but then told myself again to not worry.

Just learned from Aimee B. you can put citrus juice on apples and other things to keep them from browning and keep them fresh

It was dead inside. Aimee on bar. Texas Loft watcher dude aka Scuba Steve, motorcycle dog friend man, bald white guy name I forgot. Tanisha and her boyf(??) were to my right, but they left and she looks a whole hell of a lot better. Not as sick it seems.

I listened as they told a story of a dude who tossed another dude's bicycle since he was being a jerk for some reason, then that guy Another-Dude ran into Bike-Tossing-Dude in a super market like the next day and that's when Another-Dude literally ran away from Bike-Tossing-Dude.

There were also stories told of self-arresting (that is, the art of getting oneself arrested all by one's self) and undercover SJPD stopping a near-knife attack at a downtown night spot.

Will I be able to pay off Aimee B. for the picture by July 1st? Time will tell!

Tuesday the 15th notes:

Tanisha is back in action. White collar types were back in attendance too. Tanisha was pretty sick and that's all I'll say about that, save that she's returned now and feisty as ever (No, Tanisha, that does not qualify "as something negative on the internet about you." Stop being so damned sensitive, m'kay?*) Quick afternoon visit right after dropping my coworker Tres Gringos Steve off at his place.

Yep, carpool FTW.

One beer FTW too.

Moving on...

Wednesday the 16th:

Today was a day where Wes shared his box (like a whole cardboard box) of Chinese food from Wings up the street. It was also a day where Thunder bought copious shots and called me assorted sexist names (Faggot! Slut! Whore!), kindly offered to sexually abuse me (I'm going to fuck you in the ass! Then I'm going to fuck everyone in the ass!) and otherwise made patently false claims (It's my birthday!)

Keith invited me to attend the 1st annual (well, as far as I know) Cornhole Tournament at Jack's later this summer. (Official rules here.)

This tournament does not involve the anus in any way, so I feel safe. By the way, Keith and I will win. So you can cry your tears of fail now and get it out of the way. Then you can start saving your pennies to buy me and Keith beers all day after we win. That's very nice of you.

After giving Thunder a ride home I tried to bounce Thunder's balls on a 2x6 piece of wood repeatedly. For the record, this also did not involve the anus. He was fully clothed, mostly passed out and was practically crying out to be abused. Mercy is a virtue.

Thursday the 17th:

Tanisha was working the bar when I strolled during happy hour.

Charlie was outside painting the walls either side of the entrance (having already removed the Jack's logos—which will be refurbished, painted and re-hung later this week or next).

This was one of those days where I stayed too long at the bar and lost track of all that I had to drink. Fortunately I got home at a decent hour (like before 1 a.m.) and went to work with no hangover. That, believe it or not, is an improvement.

Things recollected:

*During the game I cheered and raised my hands up and managed to hit a guy's glass. This guy (named Eli) spilled his beer all down his shirt. He'd a probably been more uppity if it wasn't for the fact that he was such a shorty. Still I apologized and offered Eli another beer, but he declined and said he was already closing out. Didn't keep him from shooting daggers at me with his eyes.

*Tall Nicole telling me a story of a thin white dude all but disappearing into the vagina of a (very, very) very big black woman at the entrance to the Exotic Erotic Ball. In her words, it "was like vaginal consumption!" Fastest $100 she ever spent, as she was in and out the door after witnessing that spectacle.

*Tall Nicole telling me a story of Reggae on the Rocks. She saw this old school hippy white guy busting a move with some other woman (I think it was a big black woman). Then Tall Nicole said a phrase of some sort that she coined at the sight of those two people and saying it again made her laugh her head off in the bar. I can't remember it though.

*Charlie buying me a shot.

*Helping Jenny finish her shot from that round.

*Jenny thoughtfully asking Tall Nicole "..now how do we get Jeremy laid?" Thanks Jenny. I appreciate you looking out for me, you tree hugger you! ;) (She'd just come back from seeing the redwoods today and as I understand it you can't help but hug the damn things when you're right next to them. She didn't see any Ewoks though.)

*Another Charlie shot.

*Met a guy named Bahb (like Bob, but spelled insanely) who was a sponsored skater back in the 70s and retired more or less in 1978. He skated with Tony Alba at the Pipeline Skate Park in Los Angeles. Also with some guy named Peralta too. ;)

*Met a man named Paris. He's a Bay Area man, a strong looking fellow, friendly, and wondered aloud why I was limiting myself to alcohol. I think I've met him before.

*Yesenia of The Big Purple Root (Day 32)showed up, pretty as ever, with a friend of hers. Yesenia did a smell test on my beard and pronounced it clean. She did recommend I scent it up with cologne, but I can't remember if it was Calvin Klein or some other fragrance that she suggested after I queried her as to her taste. You ask me, I think my beard ought to smell like Whiskey so that's what I'm drinking. Yesenia has a big smile, beautiful teeth and hair that's cut short and curly. Something tells me she'd rip me in half in bed, so I’m not gonna go there. Yesenia wore the Aztec calendar on a round pendant attached to a necklace. (Yep I was looking real close...when you're buzzed and sitting next to someone you consider to be potentially physically dangerous in bed, you can't help but tempt fate a little.)

*Joaquin walked in, lifted me up like a rag doll, gave me one of those WWE bear hugs and swung me around a bit. That I didn't hit anyone else's beer with my feet is a miracle. And my back is still a wee bit sore.

Aside from that, I wrote down in my notes "Angel Essence FTW!" but I can't remember what that's about. Anyone?

Friday the 18th

Can you say, "Jeremy drank A LOT"? So can I.

Today I was fed 5 (that's "five" in letters) shots by certain not-to-be-named bar people. I could tell you why I'm not naming them, but I don't want to in order to protect them, just in case.

I will say this: THANKS! :D

Today Tanisha told me, "No slamming cans!" I explained I'd slammed it down in celebration of completing my tall boy and from having lots of fun (after several shots, you'd slam yours too!). She replied that it's like I'm demanding another beer from her ASAP and that's not to be done.

The bartender makes the rules, so that's how it goes. My apologies, Tanisha!

Later that night I elbowed Tanisha in the head (not kidding). Total accident. Honest!

This was one of those nights where I took a break to run home and get my beer koozie. I left my card with Lindsay so she could order another beer, which she did. When I returned, I ordered up a pitcher (which the koozie fits just fine) and had lots of fun well into the night.

Something cool: Brian—who works at the Hyde Park Cocktail Lounge off 4th and Commercial Monday through Friday until 6 pm each day right here in San Jose—told me is that a customer of his (some sort of reporter) knew about the San Jose Sharks players who had visited Jack's on Day 144.

Q. How'd she know if she wasn't in attendance?
A. She explained to him that she'd read it on my blog.

Kick ass!

I remember Brian being there that day, but I don't think I knew who he was at that time.

Then Brian told me his all-access pass story when USC played Stanford. He rubbed shoulders with everyone and anyone football famous, then got right up on the edge of the playing field to watch the game. If you'd been at the bar with me and seen the look on his face, you'd know just how intensely awesome that experience was for him.

Charlie mentioned he'd like to write a movie script titled, "The Modern Drunkard".

I recall talking with Fremont Matt at night. I also recall singing "A Boy Named Sue" with Grant and Christian when the sun was still up. That was fun.

I also recall Tanisha in Aimee's clothes. She wore a red butterfly in her hair that matched the red flannel-ish button up shirt she had on (the one Aimee ordered from Japan, if memory serves). Total Incredible Hulk moments, those. See me for clarification.

Speaking of Aimee: It seems like she's turned a corner in my eyes. Somehow she's more, oh I dunno, at peace? No, that's not right. Well, it is, but it's more a place holder word for another, better word I haven't figured out yet. Let's just say she's more awesome and leave it at that.

Saturday the 19th

I was supposed to attend Thunder and Crystal's Summer Kick Off BBQ party today, but dodged it as I was feeling especially dead in my soul.

Were I wise I'd have dodged Friday partying in lieu of partying today, but the idea of back to backs (that is, a Saturday party and then a Sunday party...yes, I have a social life now thank you very much) seemed 100% not good at all to me.

I'm sure I'd have tried to have a ton of fun if I'd gone, but my heart would not have been in it.

Today I was up early (had to give a lady friend a morning ride to her car) so I found myself on an equally early trip to Jack's today.

The World Cup was of course showing on all the flat screen TVs and Jordan kindly filled me in on the particulars of the World Cup rules for advancement to the final group of 16 teams, as well what the US team needed to do in order to make it into that select group. Thanks for answering my many questions.

Travis was at the bar too and had put out a dare on Facebook that same morning: if 20 people responded to him he'd wear a dress to work at Jack's tonight. He thought nobody would be up that early on a Saturday so he'd be fine and not have to do it.

There were more than 20 responses by the time I gave him a ride home an hour or so later.

In between then and, err...then, he consoled himself by dunking cinnamon Pop Tarts into Whiskey.

Tall Nicole was sleepy behind the bar and I can sure understand why. Back to backs must be tough as hell when working at a bar.

Thanks Jordan for buying us two rounds of shots. I was only intending to drink Coke at the bar, but damn if whiskey doesn't wake a person up (for another hour at least).

Sunday the 20th:

Doggy Days at Jack's! Today was the first of four monthly affairs at Jack's where everyone is invited to bring their dog and enjoy free BBQ (which was damn good, let me tell you). The dogs get to enjoy some free doggie treats, plenty of water and the company of other dogs.

They had a flat screen set up out back for World Cup action.

Thanks go out to Lindsay for the quiet get-together at her place Sunday night. Incredible pasta, good wine, good bread, cool sunset air and friends.

My last act at Jack's was to return later that night and pick a lovely friend up who needed a ride from the bar. It's good to be able to return a favor.

See you all next week at Jack's!

*Just kidding! Things are back to normal now that you've returned, Tanisha. I'm glad you're well and hope you stay as healthy as can be. I can't do this without you.

Ok, maybe I could, but it would basically suck if you're not there.

Day 159-164: I Feel Alright Tonight

2010-06-13T19:58:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, June 8th to Sunday, June 13th

Dear Reader,

Run away and don't look back if you're allergic to poetry. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I Feel Alright Tonight

This week Fallon fed me alcohol
and Wendee fed me kisses

This week I ran away and then right back
to a woman could be called "the missus"

This week I watched a man leap on a friend
who was already on top of a dude

They fed us whiskey from the bottle
And nothing they did was considered rude

This week I fell into a rut
Yet somehow fell back out

This week I spent every day drinking with friends
finding in this little reason, if any, to pout

This week I met a suos-chef
Who who wants to buy the veggies from my garden

I'm not all that sure how to spell "sous-chef"
If misspelled, I humbly beg your pardon

This week I met Crystal's mother
I saw pictures of Crystal before she had tattoos

I'd pick the mother over the daughter
if ever I was forced to choose

This week ends with me writing at home
In the wan light of the setting sun

Happy that the year is not yet half over.
Happy for a life filled with friends and fun.

See you Monday at Jack's!

Day 158 - Old School Joe and WTF?!?!?

2010-06-07T21:46:00.000-07:00

Monday, June 7th, 2010

Dear Reader,

[pardon me for a sec while I pay this overdue Comcast bill online. Thanks Sugi and Carter for the three way help on that]

...

Today at Jack's I met a woman named Gail and a man named Joe. I didn't get to talk to Gail much, but I did speak to Joe.

Joe sat under TV #1, at the foot of the L-shaped bar. I sat between him and one seat over from Gail.

Joe wore faded blue jeans and a durable looking light blue button up long sleeve shirt. He had a hat on, but I don't remember the color or any logo.

What's unique about Joe is his eyes. Why? Because you can't hardly see them! Looking at him, it's hard to tell if his eyes are even open all the way. He seems like someone who has worked outside all his life, without benefit of sunglasses the whole damn time. (I know people who've grown up in the snowy mountains of Colorado who don't squint that tight.) Anyway, I was to find out real soon that this idea of mine about his life was dead on accurate.

And the nice thing was, the more we talked the more his eyes opened up. Eyes open and smiling and that old, wrinkled, tough as leather-looking face became animated and happy.

So, Joe was born in 1947 (or 48?), he's is retired, is drawing on Social Security and lives in a trailer on a ranch up Mount Hamilton way. That ranch covers 40 acres and he looks after all of it. He has to put in a minimum of ten hours a week. Any more time spent and that's "on him" as he says, but he "don't mind doing more."

When Joe was a kid he used to play in the ditches that bordered the farms around Steven's Creek Boulevard where the Cadillac dealership is now located. He spent pretty much his whole life picking crops in the Bay Area.

His uncle (also named Joe) owned Standard Produce of San Jose and his dad used to work there too. Standard Produce was located where the Gordon Biersch brewing facility is currently located, right along the railroad. According to Joe, this whole part of San Jose (Japantown and the surrounding warehouses north of Taylor) was once a centralized hub for shipment of Bay Area-grown produce to all parts of the state along the railroad, with things really humming around 1955.

From time to time you can find Joe cooking up the free barbecue they sometimes have (courtesy of the owner) at C&J's Sports Bar in Santa Clara, just off Lafayette street near the Jack in the Box. C&J's has been showing a lot of the big fights recently and according to Joe it gets pretty packed some nights.

If Measure J goes through for the new stadium, C&J's is the first bar you'd hit on your way out after a game, or so Joe says.

Aimee B. was tending bar today and the bar itself wasn't all that packed. Maybe eight of us total, not including Aimee. I made arrangements with Aimee to contact her later this week so I can make the final payment on the photograph I've had my eye on the last couple of months. Can't wait to hang it above the mantel piece!

See you Tuesday after work at Jack's!

...

As an aside: WTF? I meet someone cool at Jack's. I hang out with this person a couple weeks ago in Japantown. We have a good time. I discover this person is smart, has led an interesting life, is in a serious relationship with someone else and is perfectly willing to make plans to meet me in Mountain View (today) for some serious book store browsing action after work.

Totally platonic, btw.

But for my own basic inability to keep track of my personal finances (thus precipitating a trip to Gilroy for funds acquisition, which in fact ended up not happening in lieu of alternate last minute arrangements closer to home), the aforementioned trip to Mountain View is exactly what would have happened.

OK so this person got called away by work so we sort of ended up dual canceling on each other for different reasons, but what really got me was that after I suggested we try to communicate in the future this week to find a good time to retry the get together, later today this person notified my by text that they had to stop hanging out with me because their significant other got wind of the fact that we visited (once) and got all upset about it.

I say again: WTF? What am I, a best-friend stealing thief? Has the significant other looked at me lately? I am most certainly not the amorous heart pick pocketing type! A bristly bearded, shaven-headed man of my girth does not naturally ooze the sort of manly confidence (read: charm) that allows one to go around randomly burglaring a love interest away from the love interested.

Travis has that power, I suppose, because as bartenders go he's a Jedi Master (and has a nice head of hair; and his facial hair is entirely under control).

I, however, do not have that power, in the bar or out.

Anyway, I am of the opinion that if you love someone, you do everything in your power to make them the best version of themselves that they can be. Above all, you ought to ensure they are happy.

In this I think my friend from Jack's and I would be in agreement.

But where I think we would disagree is at what point you draw the line betwixt providing for a love's happiness and seeing to your own happiness.

So to review: either I was lied to and the person I was to meet just plain old doesn't want to hang out; or the person I was to hang out with is so immesurably, deeply in love that any possibility of causing discomfit to the significant other in his or her life would be a pure crime; or the significant other is impossibly insecure and so has created a black hole relationship that swallows up any possibility for the bright star that is the new friend I made at Jack's and was to hang out with today of making any new friends.

In closing, I realize I should be careful. After all, I can't exactly judge a relationship for which I'm entirely ignorant of its complexities and particulars. Yet I can't help but wonder: what price, happiness?

Day 152 - 157: Of Falons, Flugtags and Fail

2010-06-06T22:48:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, June 1st to Sunday, June 6th, 2010

Falon is a handful. She's tiny, but a handful. She's a devil because with her it's details galore and I haven't even scratched the surface of who she is or what she's about. Details follow:

Look for the type-face font, all lower case in classic black tattoo ink on the top of her left wrist: it spells out a single word. "live." ...if memory serves.

Identify her friends as the ones that have the same style of tattoo, but with a different word for each woman.

See the Betsey Johnson earrings she wears: a tiny dark-bejeweled skull, with an almost invisible pink ribbon adorning the top of the skull, one on each ear.

Compared to those earrings, the brightly-bejeweled Hello Kitty bracelet on her right arm practically shouts out its presence, with Kitty's head big around as a half-dollar coin.

Fallon likes skulls. In her words: "I have a skull fucking fetish."

Make sure you read that right, Dear Reader. That's "fucking" as in "wow, that's fucking awesome!" (i.e., for emphasis) and not as in the act of fucking a skull.

Tonight Fallon had an hour and a half long case of the hiccups. I didn't have the heart to try and scare her out of them, even though she kept asking me to.

Fallon knows how to make herself comfy. She can take her socks and laced up shoes right off without using her hands. But she's not so good at putting them back on after 3 a.m.

Luckily helping a woman put her shoes on is something I learned to do a long time ago. It was nice to put the skills back into practice before getting Fallon into the truck and on the road back to Jack's.

Fallon is good at alliteration, too. For example, she uttered the following F-Bomb triple pack on the way back to Jack's from Thunder and Crystal's place: "Fuck you, fucking fuckers!"

To be clear, she was speaking in the general direction of a certain SJPD patrol car that was busy ignoring traffic lights a half block in front of us as I drove down Taylor.

She also has a very pretty belly button. I bet she can't remember when she showed me, or why. ;)

Falon has a taste for chicken nuggets and is not afraid to holler at you in order to get your attention. I am certain I'll see her at Jack's again, and I can't wait, because she's awesome.

In case you need further evidence of this fact: you may recall all the way back on Day 1, where I described a group of women who bought and tried on Jack's tank tops, with one of them changing in the bar while the rest went in back to put there's on? The "one" was Fallon.

She asked me then if I danced, and I said no (needed to be way more drunk to dance). Because of that question (and for a few other reasons) that's what I'm going to do next year: 365 days of learning how to dance.

She's a bartender, can pace you shot for shot and knows how to dance. Her sister is very talented too.

She's left her mark on me. So, like I said, she's awesome. Meet her, if you get the chance.

....

Hardcore Braves Fan was at Jack's on Sunday the 6th. He sat at table 2 and I sat with him. He was busy watching game two of the Lakers - Celtics championship series and casually mentioned he'd run a triathlon this morning.

Yep, chill as can be.

Soon as he said it I looked at him for visible signs of tiredness, but he wasn't showing it. No rings under his bright blue eyes, no slow movements when he got up to get another beer. Hellz if I'd just run one of those I'd be at home sleeping the rest of the day, I'm sure of it.

When asked, Hardcore Braves Fan made it clear he was tired, but not so tired he couldn't go to the bar for a couple beers and watch some sports. I'd like to be in that good a shape.

...

Have you seen the new art at Jack's? It's awesome.

...

You can buy sponsorships for the Jack's Flugtag team. $20 gets whatever you can fit on a slip of paper (more or less), with that phrase printed on a t-shirt with the Jack's logo and other sponsor's messages for the Jack's Flugtag Team.

The T-Shirts themselves will be priced at $10, with proceeds going towards financing the Team's trip to Long Beach in August. Look for the Whiskey Avengers to make a showing at Jack's in support of the Team too, or so I hear.

...

Saw Gabby on Sunday as I was leaving Jack's. She was dressed in black and looked painfully pretty.

Oh, yeah: Sunday fail. I'm sorry, Wendy. I really am.

...

See you Monday, so we can do this all over again. Take care until then, Dear Reader.

Day 145-151: Taking It Easy...Well, Mostly ;)

2010-05-31T23:36:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, May 25th to Monday, May 31st, 2010

When I look back on the last seven days, it occurs to me that I was fortunate enough to spend time with several notable women each day, whether at Jack's or Cinnabar, at Roy's Station, at the Giants game, squished together in a car at 3 a.m. or in a stranger's kitchen where there were truffles on crackers, real butter from France (seriously) and Rum from the Dominican Republic.

I mention this not to brag, but to put in writing what is for me the highlight of an otherwise depressing weeklong state of affairs (read: state of mind).

Bang!-Bang! once told me that in his opinion a bar is just not the place one should go to meet people. Based on my experience, I don't think that's true—and I may have even said as much in a previous post or two. But I think it bears repeating now, if only as a testament to the fact that Jack's is, if anything, an exception to this rule.

There are not many things that fill me with warmth and pride. The success of my fledgeling garden is one (you only need one hand to cound the number of plants that have died so far). Keeping the Jack's streak alive is another (though I still wonder sometimes just what the hell it is I'm doing). Being fortunate enough to have women—real honest-to-God women—approach me out of the blue with a warm smile and even warmer embraces; that ask me about my day, how I'm feeling and what's going on in my life; who look forward to seeing me and feel comfortable around me; who want to drink, dance and have a good time with me...well, that's something I'm extremely proud of.

Would that all men measured themselves by the relative esteem they were held in by the women in their lives.

I still need to work on building up the nerve to really talk to a woman. To try and show some wit (yes I have a wit, somewhere), look them right in the eye and keep them talking to me. They're giving me chances, I just have to figure out how to keep their attention, now that I've found the nerve not to run away. ;)

....

These last seven days I've made a point to not stay too late and drink at the bar. ACME had invited me to Jack's late on Thursday to celebrate the completion of his last college final. My plan was to do a two-a-day visit (sort of like in high school football where the coaches would have players do a morning and late afternoon practice), with a visit to Jack's right after work, then a nap, then head out at 10 p.m. to see ACME and celebrate.

When I got home after the after-work bar visit, the desire to return later that night utterly left me. I absolutely did not want to drink late into the night. I mean I could feel it in my body, as though every cell was joined together in a sing-song chant of "Hell no, we won't go!"

I felt guilty for not showing up, but I also felt great the next morning after a full night's sleep. The anger I felt towards the young men who were slapping women's asses and pinching them (including Sugi's, twice) on Wednesday night was still riding hard through my brain by Friday morning though. That night I'd told Ras Dank about it right after Sugi complained to me, but he was very busy and failed to see each of the subsequent three instances where those drunken assholes dancing in the front of the bar harassed women as they tried to get by.

Being tired of drinking late at night, not wanting to have my beard grabbed and experiencing anxiety over how I might react to someone mistreating a friend of mine all put a damper on my desire to visit the bar and drink this week. I wish I had Ras Dank's and Travis' ability to remain totally patient and calm when dealing with people. Going from zero to boiling mad is not a recipe for cordial relations between bar patrons. ;)

These things might seem small to you, Dear Reader, but they often stay with me for days and weeks at a time. I make no excuse of it. It is simply who I am.

This week's conversations with Christian were quite fun and illuminating. The idea that he and I might find our way onto a television show sounds awesome. What's the harm in trying, right? I have a goal to get my name on the list of credits at the end of a major movie (even if it's just "Lead Bus Boy With A Beard" or what have you) so Christian's plan is a step in the right direction.

Aimee B.'s graduation party was a blast too. Grant grilled up some fantastic food and the celebration was a lot of fun. I'm happy to have been at Jack's for that.

Looking into Katy's eyes at Cinnabar was intense and unnerving. I can't wait to do that again. If I have to chase/walk Thunder safely home again in the dead of night as part of the deal, I'll gladly take him anywhere (even if he hollers at tall buildings at the top of his lungs and proclaims entire city blocks are his to sleep with).

I spent most of today (Monday) suffering under the oppressive weight of my house (read: depression), but thankfully Lindsay Lee threw me a lifeline on Facebook that snapped me out of my funk and got me on my way to the bar.

Sorry for running late, Lindsay, and thanks for saving me so to speak.

To recap: The pendulum swung away from Jack's at the start of the week, then right back to it at the end of the week.

Hope you enjoyed the three day weekend. See you Tuesday at Jack's!

Day 144 - Bidding Adeu to Los Tiburones and I Almost Punched A Woman

2010-05-25T18:44:00.000-07:00

Monday - May 24 - 2010

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were awesome."
-Old School Doug, speaking to Thunder

OK, bad part first. Out of the blue a pretty woman (who wasn't all that drunk from what I could tell) got a (double?) handful of my beard and made a closed fist, pulling the hairs in tight, then she slowly pulled down. White hot pain erupted under my chin and flowed down my neck as she pulled.

The pain was more than just what you feel when the hair on your head gets pulled. The skin on a man's face is extremely sensitive underneath a beard (ask any man who's just shaved his beard off and he'll tell you his face feels super sensitive to the touch, to the point where he can fully feel air moving over it).

I held my anger in but my heart was racing because I was raging fucking mad.

It's scary when you're good and drunk, because the mind doesn't always take the step of thinking about the consequences of an action. For example, when she pulled my beard it hurt like a son of a bitch so my mind came up with A) make the pain go away and B) punish the person who hurt you. If I'd had any more to drink prior to the event, I'm afraid I might not have stopped myself by realizing the consequences (going to jail for assault) of the action I very much wanted to take (punch my abuser square in the nose to make her let go).

When I consider how close I came to actually doing that...well it's just not something I think I could live with, if I'd actually hit a woman.

As it was she let go and I focused all I could on the conversation I was engaged in with Hair Puller's friend as we were sitting on the flower planters together out front of Jack's. I could feel my heart banging away in my chest because the anger and pain was still going strong and I think at one point I actually tried to fireman's carry Hair Puller, but thankfully lost my balance so she ended up picking me up off the ground with her friend's help.

A little while later when I was walking across the street to go home I spotted Hair Puller and her friend by their car. Here once again the first urge I had was to grab Hair Puller by the hair and give her a dose of the pain I felt. It's weird because I wasn't actively angry any more, rather the urge to do it just popped into my head and drunk as I was it seemed like a perfectly justified thing to do for at least the next few strides as I crossed the street.

By the time I got to them I'd thankfully mastered that urge and instead put a hand on both their shoulders and told them both it was nice to meet each of them tonight. I'd actually had a decent conversation with Hair Puller's friend (Melanie) and wanted to get to know her better.

At one point I turned to Hair Puller and told her point blank (but not rudely or threateningly) how much she hurt me and that the closest I've ever come to hitting a woman in my life was when she yanked on my beard. She seemed surprised by my statement. Then her friend asked for my number and we talked some more about this blog. I look forward to talking with Melanie about the blog (and this post in particular) after she's had a chance to read it.

The lesson here is that it takes two to tango: the woman (Abigail?) was at least buzzed, if not drunk. I was loaded drunk. That doesn't make what she did OK, but neither does it dismiss my responsibility to accept the consequences of my choice to stay late into the night when people are drinking. If you make that choice, expect that sometimes bad things can happen, even at the most well run of establishments.

The second lesson is that I should have had the one after-work beer and gone straight home, Sharks or no Sharks.

Prior to all that, I had a whole hell of a lot of fun observing Sharks players as they drank and played beer pong. Aimee B. was behind the bar and a few other bartenders were relaxing and hanging out.

I have to say the Sharks players were pretty well behaved and everyone in the bar had a great time. They played a lot of good music on the jukebox (Kenny Chesney, Dave Mathews Band, Soggy Bottom Boys, Fleetwood Mac--Setoguchi's mom used to play Fleetwood Mac in the car when he was a kid), were very patient with JoJo when he hit on them, and a couple of them took the time to shake people's hands before they left.

It didn't look to me like the ladies minded all that much when a player took his shirt off to try on a Jack's tank top. ;)

Old School Doug noticed an older, red flannel wearing player with a trucker hat and dirty black handle bar moustache growing over a short-cut black beard who was hanging back, watching all the other guys as they had fun. That player sat where Doug normally would sit in the bar (under TV #1) and just like Doug he had his back to the wall and was sitting comfortably, as though he wasn't so much sitting in the bar as he was putting the bar on. Doug said that players was in escort/papa bear mode and it seemed to me like he was too.

It occured to me that I couldn't recognize any of the players in civilian clothes. I couldn't tell if they were all of them players, or some of them players and others friends they might have invited to come along for the night.

It's too bad the Sharks season ended short of the Stanley Cup Finals, but they seem like a solid bunch of guys and I wish them all the best for next season. I'm glad they got a chance to just be themselves, hang out at Jack's and have fun.

Before I forget: Crown Royal Special Reserve was tonight's around the world drink. It was smooth, almost sweet and made my lips and the skin underneath my moustache tingle whenever I let it sit in my whiskers after a drink. This one's best to drink dry. No need for water or ice.

And thanks to Patty M. for the Tuna Melt and fries. That hit the spot.

See you Tuesday at Jack's!

Day 143 - Lost Season Finale

2010-05-25T17:42:00.000-07:00

Sunday - May 23 - 2010

I never watched the television show Lost. Well, I saw bits and pieces of two episodes. And I liked what I saw, but it just never hooked me like Survivor or CSI: Las Vegas did.

Inside the bar on Sunday night the lights were up and it wasn't too crowded. Lots of people were talking even though the season finale of Lost was playing on TV #4. Some people were grumbling to each other about the series and how it seemed to them like it'd been stretched past its useful lifetime as a show.

Me? I was just curious to see if I recognized any of the characters just to see who was still alive this late into the series. It was cool that the jumping back and forth from the island to the real world was still taking place, as this was something I saw happen on a mid-season episode a couple years ago and I thought the dual-life format was pretty entertaining.

Ras Dank was behind the bar tonight and it was a pretty chill evening. Just what the doctor ordered after Saturday's endless drinking on the Party Bus.

I had my one beer and called it a night. See you Monday night at Jack's.

Day 142 - PARTY BUS!

2010-05-23T17:31:00.000-07:00

Saturday - May 22 - 2010

Pictures are easier then words sometimes. Thus:

The bus has arrived.

We all like beer (and jello shots and jungle juice and Jägermeister and whiskey).

Every one of these people has to piss like a race horse.

The Away Team in action. Thanks to Grady, McBride and Charlie for the grub. Big hot dogs, polish sausages and burgers, with the option to have them dipped in wing sauce, barbecue sauce or chili before serving them up on your bun. My mouth's watering while I write...

You can't quite see the old school Star Wars hat on her head. It's kick ass.

Their food makes you this happy.

Anna, our driver. Thank you Anna!

Chips, Salsa and Joaquin.

View of the field from the bleacher seats. Joaquin and I had to get a security gaurd to help us find a pair of seats. Everyone (and I mean everyone) was saving seats for people that never seemed to show up.

Crazy, grumpy, snarky crowd at the game today.

After the game: thanks, man.

The going home party bus crowd. Shot by Patty M.

I have to poop. After you take this picture, I will fall over. But fortunately Jeremy and Sara will break my fall with their bodies. And that's a Jello Shot stain on my hat.

Home sweet home.

Thunder and Crystal, at the bar before the game.

Thunder and Crystal, after the game. ;)

A few different people told me that this party bus was relatively tame compaired to the previous trips. If this was tame...damn! Those other trips must have been insane.

For all that, it was a blast to hang out with a legion of cool people. Thanks Jack's for all your work to put this together and make it so much fun. I'm already looking forward to the Raiders - 49ers Party Bus later this year.

Several of the Party Bus goers stayed at Jack's after we were dropped off. I enjoyed talking at length with Christian and Jenny and their two friends, but I can't remember their names. Drank some more with Joaquin and enjoyed the sunset air as the breeze the was blowing all day made its way into San Jose.

Travis says "Hi!"

Wingmen.

Bryce and Nick: post-game grub.

If you were on the bus and want to add anything to the tale, leave a comment below.

See you Sunday at Jack's!

Day 141 - Another Sharks Loss and Strung Up In El Paso Texas

2010-05-23T17:02:00.000-07:00

Friday - May 21 - 2010

The biggest payment you'll ever make as an artist is a copyright infringement payment.
-The Photographer

The Photopher and I were sitting out on the back patio of Jack's tonight. I asked him if he was the type who asked to take someone's picture or if he would rather take the shot, then show the subject the picture just taken then ask for permission to use it.

The Photographer said he would take the shot first, then ask for permission (unless it wasn't practical or didn't seem necessary)

Shut methods don't come without consequences, though.

With his camera hanging from a strap around his neck in El Paso Texas, The Photographer was busy taking pictures for a multi-city film project. He went into a bar with blacked out windows and took a picture of a man who'd prefer his picture to have not been taken. That man literally grabbed the camera, twisted it and lifted The Photographer up by the neck.

The Photographer was able to smooth things out, keep his camera and keep the picture. But now he doesn't carry a camera around his neck anymore.

Earlier in the day, when the sun had not yet set and the Sharks had just lost for the third straight time to the Chicago Blackhawks, I met a man named Clemente.

Clemente is 72 years old and had a hand in the sale of the bar to its current owner. Clemente and I shared Table #5 while his friend chatted with the owner of the bar. I told Clemente about the blog and how I plan to spend one day every year at Jack's. I remarked on how sore everyone was over the Sharks loss, how the bar cleared out so fast and that maybe people would still be at the bar if the Sharks had won.

When Clemente his reply, his words were often cut short; he didn't seem to always pronounce each word fully when he spoke. His sentences were very short and to the point. His tone was always low, his voice raising up only on those parts of each sentence that were the most important to hear.

He said his philosophy was as follows: "My father would say: be a man. Your team lost? Be a man about it. Some guy gives you trouble in the bar? Tell the bartender this guy's giving you trouble, and you walk away. What's he worth to you over some trouble? Nothing. If he [really] wants to fight, you say OK it's you and me and we'll fight. Everyone else [on either side] can watch. But if his friends want in, you walk away. He's not worth a fight because he's not a man [about it]."

As his friend walked to the table Clemente and I shared, Clemente stood, turned towards me and shook my hand. His hand was very cold. As we shook, he turned his hand so mine was over his, then he placed his other hand on top of mine and said, "Remember this. What I told you." Then he let go and they both left.

Tonight I learned from Travis that there will be an "away team" for tomorrow's party bus. There job will be to set up the barbecue and get all the food and tables ready for when the bus arrives. I love it when Star Trek references find their way into normal conversation. Kick ass.

Tonight was a fun night. Joaquin and I traded pitchers of beer together after the game ended. I watched Charlie and Tanisha come out from behind the bar to serve drinks and ultimately a check to a trio of women at Table #2, then busy themselves with prep, cleanup and the transfer of power from one bartender to the other. (You don't often see the bartenders bring drinks to a table.) I met a pair of beautiful women named Carolina (Caroleena) and Irene (Eerehneh), and talked with them for a good half our on the back patio. Carolina's mouth was small, her lips a metallic shade of red like you'd find on a sports car. It didn't occur to me until I sat down to write this blog post how closely Carolina resembled my high school sweetheart's mother. God those lips....

What else? Ah! Over the course of the night I danced with Maria, chatted with Martha and traded sly smiles with Mercedes. Wendee arrived near midnight after working all day long and hung out with her friend Cessie.

I like women. ;)

See you Saturday at Jack's for the party bus!!!

Day 140 - The Flugtag Conundrum

2010-05-20T21:39:00.000-07:00

Thursday - May 20th - 2010

Jack and Jill
Have shut the till.
They're sacked! We weep for sorrow.
But greasy Mac,
The Brewer's jack
Will open up tomorrow.

--from "Time, Gentlemen—for Some New Pub Songs", E.S. Turner, Punch, July 3, 1974, page 7, Vol. 267

After yesterday's adventure in getting bodily high, I knew that I wasn't interested in a second adventure of any kind, even if it was alcohol-fueled only.

My best bet would be to get in right after work, drink the beer up and get out. And that's what I more or less did.

Tanisha was behind the bar today. The place was not that full. Maybe ten or eleven people in the bar and nobody seated at any of the wall tables.

I spoke to Charlie and later Christian about the Flugtag contest in Long Beach coming up this August 21st that Jack's earned a spot in with their cave man entry video (sorry, no linky yet that I can find--but trust me it's hilarious).

The consensus was that going on a "field trip" with the Jack's folks to Long Beach would be well within the purview of the bar blog...it's like going to school and one day they're like "hey, we're going to the zoo and it's a school thing so it's not like you're taking a day off or anything; technically you're still at school."

Same concept here. I wouldn't be at Jack's at all on Saturday the 21st (I'd be in the LBC), but it would still "count" as a trip to the bar and I'd have one hell of a blog post to write too.

Thing is I can't quite wrap my head around it. I mean I can see the "field trip" logic and it makes sense, but I'm hung up on physically going to the bar each day. For me it's walking in to the bar on a new day that counts. If I didn't walk into the bar on that particular Saturday, the streak would end.

Charlie's idea is that if I stay late at the bar on Friday night and into Saturday morning (i.e., after midnight) then I'm at the bar on Saturday. I'd been counting such overlaps as part of the day prior, which would normally mean for Saturday to count I'd have to show up later in the day after any true Saturday bartender was on duty (because then it's Saturday and no longer Friday).

Anyway, I've got plenty of time to think about it. The more important thing to recognize is that Charlie and Christian were nice enough to encourage me to come along with them to Flugtag. I really appreciate that.

What's your opinion, Dear Reader?

You can let me know in person Friday at Jack's. Or, post a comment below and let me know what you think I should do. Take care!

Day 139 - Body High

2010-05-20T21:14:00.000-07:00

Wednesday - May 19th - 2010

I haven't been stoned in about eighteen years. And even then we were smoking absolute trash as far as weed is concerned—so you could probably say I've never been truly stoned before.

That eighteen year streak is still alive. However today I did experience my first body high. Thanks to Marilyn for getting me started.

The effect started at the base of my skull, at the back where the skull stops and the neck begins. About the same time my neck list up I felt a compress or weight over my solar plexus, at the base of my breast bone. The sensation radiated out through my chest, parallel to the ground.

It was as though my diaphragm and neck were surrounded by two invisible globes of hypersensitivity. As those globes of sensation drifted around my body, my nervous system went into overdrive in those areas, making each affected area tingle and come alive.

At one point I felt as though I could feel every blood vessel in my thighs as blood flowed in and out of them, as if brand new nerve endings had grown along the paths of my circulatory system, with the sensitive ends protruding from the interior walls of my veins and arteries, each nerve sending back touch signals as the blood flowed past ...not unlike the tingling sensation you get when you run your hand over the head of a brush or a comb.

I don't know if or how my six hour experience would have been any different if I hadn't consumed a glass of beer and four tall boys during the course of the high like I did tonight. Joaquin bought me those tall cans and he was a reliably solid presence one seat over on my left while I was in happy land. Thanks for the beers man.

Thanks also to Bang-Bang! for only slightly teasing me all night long. Could have done without the warp speed head rub midway through the 3rd round of drinks. That was a little freaky because I was still a lot high and after you took your hand off my head it was like my whole scalp was on fire.

So I think that was the beginning and end of my getting high through edibles experience. Once was enough for me, thanks.

Finally, thanks to Wendee for picking me up from the bar after you got off work. Apologies for the snoring.

See you Thursday at Jack's!

Day 138 - Sharks Are Losing 2-0 At The Time Of This Writing...

2010-05-18T20:53:00.000-07:00

...and I'm damn pissed about it. So I'll think I'll write some blog. Yay.

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! :)

Day 128 - Your Beard Is A Waterfall and All My Drinks Were Bought For Me

2010-05-09T11:38:00.003-07:00

Saturday, May 8th, 2010

Quote of the day:
Your beard is a waterfall.
-Shanea (like "Shane"+"ah" ...and you'd put that "ah" at the end of any sentence you were speaking the moment you saw her too)

I rushed to Jack's tonight. Made it in with five minutes to spare. Had another down day and slept the depression away all evening long. Missed the Sharks game (which was a pretty good one, from what I heard at the bar later in the evening).

Coach Johnny bought me a beer as soon as I walked into the bar tonight. Thanks for that, Coach. I can't begin to describe what it's like to be so well treated by very good people. Thanks again, man.

It should be said that Coach Johnny looked very handsome this evening. He was very well put together, clean shaven, hair cut neatly. He had a ready smile, his sense of humor ready to go and he seemed to make everyone around him comfortable.

Out back of the bar I chatted with Chris aka Menace out back of the bar. Menace is the best (after me, of course) and a good fellow. Like Coach Johnny, Chris was well put together and seemed to be in a good mood. He's a sensitive fellow, that Menace.

Travis had just come off his shift and was free to drink, so he did. While we were out back with Menace, Travis told me that the number 81 corresponds to "HA" which is short for Hells Angels. Red and White are Hells Angels colors too. (I totally had an apostrophe like this:"Hell's" but the internetz say that's not right.)

All this chat stemmed from Menace asking Travis if he had a bike. Travis said yes, said where he'd take it for repair work and why, thus the above.

It should be noted that Rina and Matt were working tonight, with Ras Dank on the door. DJ B Rich and DJ Vagabond were on tonight, as Traps was away for a DJ battle. Kind of a slow night too; one that would turn into a sausage fest later. Seemed like the more dudes showed up, the more the ladies left. It was a skirts and heels night at the bar too. The majority of the ladies were wearing just what I described. Legs everywhere. It was nice. ;)

According to Sierra Nevada, it was all lines at every drinking establishment downtown. Lots of people left over after the Sharks defeated the most hated Red Wings and eliminated them from the playoffs. Bwahahahaha!

:ahem:

Sierra Nevada was at Jack's earlier for the game, then went downtown to drink some more and celebrate, but the press of people kept him out of the locations he wanted to visit, so back to Jack's with him!

I was still out back for this conversation. The sky was an unusual shade of reddish pink. I could smell winter in the air and someone was running a fireplace nearby, though in my opinion it wasn't that cold out, even with a stiff breeze blowing east to west.

Tempe visited the bar tonight and was über-chipper about his basketball team (Phoenix Suns, if you hadn't guessed already). Guess there's some new kid on the team that totally had the game of his life tonight and sparked the Phoenix bench to new heights of skill when the starters for the Suns–particularly Steve Nash— sat down for breaks during the game.

Menace bought me my second beer tonight. Menace: thank you. It's much appreciated man. Did I mention Menace went out of his way to be very polite tonight and (in his words) well behaved? He did a good job from what I could see.

Out front for a moment and I see the clouds are totally gray/blue. WTF? Are the clouds really so low that the halogen(?) lights on the back patio of Jack's illuminate everything in one color, yet the clouds remain a different color out front? Seriously, I went back and forth twice between the back patio and the front entrance of the bar, yet the colors of the clouds were totally different depending on which side of the bar you were on.

Swear to God I'd had only 1.5 beers by then.

So anyway on my second cloud fact check trip to the front of the bar I ran into the dude who works only weekends at Der Wienerschnitzel. They'd just closed shop and he came over to check things out at the bar (though he never went in, and has actually never walked in to the bar when I've been there, come to think of it). He speaks good English and of course Spanish so he totally let me talk in broken Spanish and English as we chatted about work, jobs, schedules and women. Nice and friendly guy, but I'll be damned if I can remember his name.

While Der Guy and I were talking, DJ Traps showed up. Turns out he got eliminated from the DJ battle on the first round. DJ Vagabond came outside about then and told Traps that all of his 45s needed a thorough going through. He'd brought only 45's tonight and found several of them were warped and scratched. Traps nodded, then told me and Vagabond about his 1st round elimination experience, what it's like to bring a gal on a first date to a DJ battle and how there were other contests besides DJ battles (ex., rapping contests where you totally rip into the other dude).

Jim Marshall Fan showed up late in the evening and we went out back to chat. He's a visualist by his reckoning and advised me that I ought to try and add a sense of mood and atmosphere to my writing. I remarked this would be a lot easier if I could just take pictures, then pointed to the single glass on the bar, itself devoid of alcohol, instead containing a spent lemon wedge and half-melted ice cubes.

To me it symbolized the relative emptiness of the bar (the bar was full, but certainly not packed and with not much traffic out on the back patio).

Jim Marshall Fan pointed to the prism-like facets of color and light generated by the bright light above our heads (the same one I suspect is illuminating the clouds) as it shines through the glass and onto the hard white plastic surface of the table as something he'd pay attention too.

Then I remarked that he'd make a good picture for the night, his face handsome and prominent in the imaginary frame of my lense cigarette in one hand, drink in the other, with only his chest visible like the bust of a statue, with Tempe standing in the background on the right as he spoke to someone out of the frame--in this case Heather F. and her friend with the close cropped (at her neck) 80s style hair and long, multi-part earrings that for some reason so captured my attention for the next few minutes.

Jim Marshall Fan told me he admired what I was doing at the bar, specifically the discipline and focus to come to the bar every single day. That sure felt good coming from him.

His main words of advice to me was "If it stays in the box, it's as if it does not exist."

By this he meant my blog. He feels I ought to advertise it and buy cards with the web address to hand out.

About then Ras Dank arrived to inform us that the back patio needed to be closed up. So Jim Marshall Fan and I went inside, where he bought me my third and final round of the evening. Thank you.

It was here that I saw a man who looked like either a young version of Jonathan Rhys (the actor, most recently in The Tudors on Showtime) or perhaps his brother. Remarkable though the resemblance was, it was the woman in his company who caught and owned my attention from that point forward.

She had red hair in short curls, wore a creamy white top that was like a wife beater only in the vaguest of ways, which is to say it left her shoulders bare and complimented the tone of her soft white skin. Under the dim lights of the bar a hint of freckles could be glimpsed, sprinkled about her shoulders and arms.

Her name Shanea and her friend's name was Bryon (like "Brian") B. I can't remember if Jim Marshall Fan or I spoke to her first; needless to say the conversation was under way and what the two of them had to tell us was interesting.

But I'll save that, Dear Reader, for myself and JMF. Not everything that happens in the bar should be written about, should it? ;)

It was a pleasure to meet you, Shaina. You to, Bryon. If things work out that we don't meet again before you have to depart, take care. Our encounter was brief, but I already know I'll never forget you.

Last call was announced, beers were finished and numbers exchanged. I said my thanks to the bartenders (though I only remember Matt at that point) and went outside. Before going home myself, I gave JMF a ride home and thanked him for his company and his good advice.

See you Sunday at Jack's!

Day 127 - A Surprise Visit From Sugi and The Music Was Way Too Fucking Loud

2010-05-09T11:38:00.001-07:00

Friday, May 7th 2010

Vital stats for the night:
Bartenders: Charlie and Matt
Door Persons: Ras Dank and Travis
DJs: Vagabond and ?? (no B Rich tonight: both he and Vagabond will cover for DJ Traps tomorrow since Traps is attending a scratch contest Saturday)

I realized tonight that I'm always going to love Sugi. I'm not in love with her, no, but I'll always love her. A decade spent together can do that.

Earlier today I'd texted her to see if she was free and she begged off, suggesting some other night. So when I got word from her that she was on her way, I felt excited. It's been several weeks since I've seen her and all the old "she's coming, bet busy and get things ready" feelings kicked in.

I stopped talking with people outside and made my way into the very crowded bar to get her usual drink ordered up. I knew it would take time and I didn't want her to have to wait.

Sugi was in scrubs when she arrived just as Charlie served up my drink order. Sugi looked different; not as tired as in the past and certainly more healthy. Her job is not easy but it's doing just what I'd hoped it would do: give her some balance in her life (and some hefty cash in her pocket).

We went outside and I think the only time I've ever been mad at Joaquin happened. I re-introduced Sugi to James and Eric (aka Bang-Bang! Kla-Klow! and ACME, for you newer readers), then introduced her to Joaquin, who said "Where?" as he looked over her in his own goofy way.

I know he was only playing on the idea that he's really tall (like 6' 4" or 6' 6") and Sugi's short (not even five feet tall), but he doesn't know that Sugi has always been sensitive about her height and doesn't appreciate jokes about it.

Thankfully Sugi took it in good humor and this calmed me down. I only wanted to kill Joaquin for a second.

Today was Mercede's birthday and she was here with Martha and Maria. Martha looked absolutely beautiful tonight. Her beauty is something I'm discovering a little more of each time I see her at the bar. I'm learning to enjoy Maria's company more too, but like Mercedes she was somewhat far along when I got to the bar so we didn't get to talk all that much.

I would like to thank Mercedes for introducing me to some of her extended family at the bar tonight (they'd accompanied her to the bar and were her ride around town all day for her birthday) and for saying such nice things about me to them. Mercedes has always been an exotic beauty to me; her makeup and straight black hair convey a dark allure; dangerous but also tempting.

The night wore on and Sugi and I found we couldn't really go back into the bar because the music was so fucking loud it hurt. She was cold outside and refused my offer of my jacket (next time I'll just throw it on her, I think) but still toughed it out. We enjoyed talking with Fremont Matt, his wife and friends. We watched a guy standing over the fence between Jack's and Der Wienerschnitzel—he asked the crowd out back if they could help him find his sister in the bar (he couldn't go in since he had no I.D. on him). The consensus was he should wait it out since it was close to closing anyway.

The truth of this was born out by Travis telling us all the back patio had to be closed up. I wasn't sure what Sugi would do, but she said she was hungry. I suggested iHop and she readily agreed.

Closing out took much longer than I'd hoped (ok, truth: if it were just me I wouldn't have cared to wait that long to close my tab, but I knew Sugi was out front of the bar leaning against the bike rack, shivering, goose bumps practically visible on her arms from in the bar where I stood) so I felt the urge to get the fuck out and get her to iHop.

Thankfully Charlie very kindly slotted me in as he and Matt took care of the last-call surge of drink orders. Charlie has such awesome energy. It's a blast when he's working at the bar.

Free and clear, I quickly left Jack's with Sugi. I didn't even say goodnight to anyone. I realized later that nobody would be offended by my doing this. Please don't take this as me saying I'm all important or something (far from it!), rather that it's something of a tradition for people say goodnight to each other at the bar, especially after a fun night spent together.

This is the kind of thing I would worry about in the past, but now I know "it's cool" as Travis would say.

See you Saturday at Jack's!

Earlier tonight Travis told me a bar secret that I'll not divulge. I am thankful to know it, though. Should help me when I'm in new places far from home.

Day 126 - Skipped the Shark's Game and Stood Up Joaquin

2010-05-09T11:37:00.003-07:00

Thursday May 6th 2010

Apparently I told Joaquin I'd hang with him on Thursday at Jack's for the Sharks game. I don't remember that. I missed DeVito's call asking me to come over and play foosball at his place. Foosball is like chicken soup for the soul after a Sharks playoff loss (and this one was particularly severe—score was 7-1. Ouch!) and DeVito was no doubt in need of soothing. Even if I'd gotten the message I would not have gone though.

You see Dear Reader I've been very much down and out the later half of this week; I've been skipping to-do items, leaving my laundry unfolded, spending money frivolously and not eating terribly well. I know from long experience that these things happen in cycles. The last one happened in mid-April and lasted for two weeks. I hope this one doesn’t last as long.

When I arrived at Jack's very late this evening some good news came from Travis: apparently Gabby asked for my number (again). I like the idea of a woman asking someone I know for my number. Lolz I wonder how many times Gabby has programmed my number into her phone now? It's probably just one of those things you think of when you're buzzed that you feel would be good to do and that you mean to follow up on, but when you're sober the idea hides itself away in your mind, waiting to be unlocked by another round of drinks.

I enjoyed Joaquin's company tonight (he'd come back to Jack's after leaving earlier). His birthday is coming up next Tuesday. He made me promise to be at Jack's at midnight on Monday so we could start celebrating early.

I hope I can keep that promise.

I also enjoyed drinking with ACME. We shared a Mind Eraser and a Red Headed slut for old time's sake. He and I drink well together.

Mercedes, Maria and Martha (though Martha was not at Jack's tonight) are three women I like to see at the bar. I didn't know Mercede's birthday was coming up, but I sure as hell got up to speed when she told me, fingers in her mouth to fire off a shrill whistle, hollering and more or less enjoying herself to the max.

I didn't intend to stay late tonight, but figured if Mercedes was going to start celebrating at midnight then I could stick around.

I don't remember leaving Jack's, but I do know I slept in my truck in the driveway of my house. Were the world to end, I think I could tough it out for a few days in my truck. One thing I've learned to do well over the years is sleep as comfortably as I can in it.

See you Friday at Jack's!

Day 125 - A Pair of Pilots and Hot Sacked by Travis

2010-05-09T11:37:00.001-07:00

Wednesday May 5th 2010

Tonight I met a pair of pilots. They are Ken aka Han and Patrick aka Chewie.

Like the famous Star Wars characters, Ken and Patrick are equal in authority in their aircraft. One is always technically the pilot, the other a co-pilot, but both are equally rated and capable of flying their aircraft.

At first I couldn't remember what was and was not OK to say about them (my notes are incomplete) but the night is coming back to me so we're good.

I do have one of their business cards and could call one of them up to ask, I suppose. But I don't think I'll do that. After all, they fly at 51,000 feet in the fastest non-military jet in the world. Wouldn't want to distract them with a ringing cell phone when they're checking out the curve of the Earth itself from that high up.

I do recall them saying that they sometimes don't fly with masks on that high up because although regs call for it, there's just not all that much you can do if something goes wrong and cabin pressure is lost. In the event of an emergency the aircraft would automatically drop down to 15,000 feet (to where it's possible to breathe again) but they might just all be dead by then anyway.

One of the pilots (Chewie) said that to get this job he had to basically win the lottery for pilots. That's not to say they drew his name out of a hat, rather that he was the in the top percentile as a pilot and as a result he landed himself the mother of all pilot dream jobs.

Both of those guys were pretty cool. They sat at the corner of the bar near the entrance, one flirting a bit with Rina as she worked behind the bar, while the other told stories of getting escorted out of a town with his family by the sheriff after a small run in with the locals.

Han even bought me a beer. Thanks man.

I envy those two their camaraderie, the way they constantly looked out for each other at the bar (seriously: if either one of them was out of sight of the other for too long, they'd ask if anyone saw their partner and if not they'd go looking for each other) and ability to sample cities all over the country during their shared downtime between flights.

Carting important people around sure has come a long ways from the time when you basically put them in a box with two long polls and carried them everywhere, eh?

After I told them about my bar blog they joked about writing a blog together of places visited on their travels. I think they ought to do it.

Tonight's around the world at Jack's drink was Chivas Regal Premium Scotch Whisky. Very smooth stuff. The one think I've learned about Scotch after sampling several varieties these last two weeks is that it straight up sneaks up on your ass.

You're good, then you're exhibiting all the signs of drunkenness even though you don't feel drunk. This whole business of different varieties of inebriation depending on what you drank to get to that point is interesting to me. I wonder what will be different when I get to the Vodka? Or Rum?

OK so this might seem a good post, right? Interesting people were met and written about.

But no, we're not done yet.

I have to tell the story of being hot sacked by Travis.

It's not a very intricate story. DJ Benofficial and one of his buddies were trading off at the turntables (that buddy being DJ Vex) as Wendee showed up. She looked really nice tonight (hair, makeup, lipstick) and I remember Ken saying he liked better what DJ Vex was doing (right around when he started playing Set Adrift On Memory Bliss by P.M. Dawn). I don’t remember when Travis showed up with Caitlin, I just know Travis and I both gave up our seats to the ladies and proceeded to enjoy the music, the drinks and the night.

I think Travis and Caitlin have developed a sort of telepathy. They were laughing and joking, never really pausing to communicate devious plans or instructions. Yet somehow Caitlin jumped up, told me she was leaving and offered me her seat. So I took it. Travis said something like "Hey we're going to perform an experiment, you should turn around," and at that point I should have realized something was up, but no. So I turned around and Wendee did the same.

At that point Travis sort hop-landed his crotch on my left thigh, just above my knee. As you can imagine, I could feel the weight of his balls and cock on my leg, all warm and toasty like a hot pocket just out of the microwave after it's had a chance to cool.

Caitlin busted up laughing, I was sort of shocked and Wendee thoughtfully suggested that I should go take a Crying Game shower.

Lolz.

Later when we were outside Travis told me that he used to "hot sack" the door guys at the Flying Pig. They had to wear shorts and it got pretty hot and he never wore any boxers so you can only imagine what that was like. Lolz by that measure I got off pretty easy tonight.

I think I left with Wendee around 11:30 p.m. that night. I don't know if I said goodbye to Ras Dank (he was on door duty tonight) but I do recall it got so crowded for a Wednesday that ACME had to jump in to help Rina out behind the bar. Good looking out.

See you Thursday at Jack's!

Day 124 - Relentlessly Confident and Sharks Win Again!

2010-05-04T21:56:00.000-07:00

Tuesday May 4th, 2010

It's so awesome that the Sharks one again. Going up 3 games to nil on Detroit is just long, long overdue if you ask me. Detriot's been our foil for so long now that it feels good to be one game away from eliminating them once and for all.

My hat goes off to Awesome Ed (not to be confused with Ed aka GOD—whom I've not seen in awhile at Jack's, come to think of it) who predicted midway through the second period of the game when the Sharks were down 3 - 1 that the Sharks would come back and win it, by scoring two goals in regulation time and one goal in overtime.

As it turns out, Awesome Ed was exactly right in his prediction. What's even more cool is that he never waivered. His confidence was not boisterous or loud (like a certain Devito, who could out shout a jet engine), rather it was spoken plainly and factually, as though things could not be any other way than what Awesome Ed said they'd be.

Awesome Ed, myself and Devito plan to dye our beards teal for the Stanly Cup Finals for any game where the Sharks could win it all (theoretically from game 4 of the finals onward, if the Sharks were to win the first three games).

The crowd as Jacks was mixed, consisting of 60% regulars and 40% new new faces. I liked the pretty blond and Indian new faces, myself. ;) Tanisha was working solo today but as usual had things under control. The bar itself was full from one end to the other, and the first three tables along the back wall were full as well (so much so that chairs were borrowed from tables 4 and 5 to seat everyone at 1 through 3).

It was nice to see Shannon and Lisa returned safe and sound from their vacation. Lisa had her hair cut and looked beautiful as ever, but in a way that communicated she was well rested. I am certain that if I had a picture of Lisa on my wall at home, it would be something I could look at and admire pretty much forever.

I sat at the corner of the bar near the front where it turns the corner. Shannon, Lisa, Old School Slappy and Old School Lady L were to my right, with Awesome Ed, Juanita and their two friends on my left.

Along with the usual PBR, today's Around The World At Jacks drink was Bulleit Bourbon Whiskey, which had a taste a lot like Black Label, but the taste smoothed out a whole lot faster. It didn't chase as well with PBR as the Black Label from yesterday did, but a moderate sip of Bulleit Bourbon sure as hell does interesting things in your mouth and to your tongue if you finish off an El Tarrasco Carnitas Burrito with Mild Green Sauce first. Damn!

I enjoyed talking with Scuba Steve and his friend about his time working at San Jose Live back in the day. He runs the door at the Loft now, if memory serves.

Time to pause now so a friend can use the computer. Thanks to everyone who made today such a fun time.

See you Wednesday at Jack's!

Day 123 - Why Ever Hit On A Bartender? And Johnnie Walker's Color Chart

2010-05-03T23:06:00.000-07:00

Monday May 3rd, 2010

Before I started showing up at Jack's regularly, I wasn't all that experienced when it came to bars and other supposedly "low" places that Garth Brooks might have sung about in the 90s. However even I, layperson and noob that I am (well, was) knew back then as well as now that if you're a dude you just don't hit on the female bartenders.

Of course that doesn't keep other guys from trying, particularly if they've grown an insta-spine thanks to one of several alcoholic Miracle Grow equivalents that can be found at any bar in the U S of A.

Today was no different. Emboldened by several drinks, a fellow stepped away from the bar (and his far more sober friend, aka the DD) and saddled, nay: wobbled, on up to the other end of the bar. After steadying himself on the bar with elbow and hips like a mechanic about to dip under the hood of a car, the dude expressed his sincere affection for today's bartender (Aimee B.) and asked if he couldn't call her sometime so they could hang out.

For her part Aimee B. smiled graciously, said no and informed the intrepid man that she already had a boyfriend. Then she went right back to her business as though the fellow had done nothing more than asked for a drink they don't serve at Jack's.

The fellow made his way back down the bar and took a seat next to his DD friend. From what I could tell while trying to look past the man to my left (who had the "Rock Hard" hat on --it's a Chevy Truck thing) at the wobbly guy, his face didn't betray any disappointment. Rather it had more of a "I just forgot the last 30 seconds of my life" goldfish look to it, which is probably for the best. After all, men don't take rejection all that well.

Today I learned that when a customer orders Silver Patron, the bartender asks if the customer wants chilled or regular. After poring, the bartender asks if the customer wants salt too. It's up to the customer to ask for "a little bit of salad on one of them", i.e. a lemon wedge.

If Starbucks-speak (Short, Tall, Grande, Venti) is the modern version of the drinking language, then all the phrases with alternate meanings and the various other bits of bar lingo that have been used and passed down over the ages (like "a little bit of salad on one of them" or "on the rocks") comprise the drinking language equivalent of Latin.

(Let's pause for a moment so I can laugh at my housemate, who's playing World of Warcraft and cussing like a pirate with his Donald Duck voice.)

I wasn't looking to see some serious male ass crack exposure at the bar today, but I did. And now the thought of it is like a visual equivalent of an earworm; it just won't go away. That dude's Zelda ringtone was cool, but the ass? Not so much. In fact, not even a little.

Oh, before I forget: today's Around The World At Jack's drink was Johnnie Walker Black Label. A shot of that and a PBR will put you right at $10, which by the way is exactly the minimum at Jack's for using a credit card. Now something tells me their was a bottle of Jamison up on the shelf that was supposed to be next, but between last Thursday and today it disappeared.

I imagine its replacement will be back up on the shelf before long, at which point I'll happily do some back tracking.

The Black Label had a deep, smooth flavor to it. It was really hard to drink with no ice at first, but it didn't really burn on my lips or in my throat when I swallowed it. One thing it did do was it warmed me up very fast, then it went down a lot smoother as time went by. I was chasing it with beer after awhile -a no no in scotch drinking circles, I'm sure- but it all seemed to work for me.

Today I learned that Johnnie walker scotch is actually comprised of a hierarchy of labels, which denote the quality and age of the scotch. The colors are Red (label), Black, Green, Gold and Blue.

Red would be a relatively cheap $21 bottle, whereas Blue would run you $160 easy. I heard at the bar from a source who wishes to remain unnamed that it's only possible to pick up the higher end labels at duty free shops. Have you ever run across such on your travels, Dear Reader?

About that time and I got a booty call...well, a booty text technically. I performed a self-high five inside my head and found myself remarking out loud that I like getting booty calls.

I went on to say that it's especially nice when they come from women and not guys. In the later case all you get is a "Ha ha, you thought I was a hot chick didn'd you dude?" Whereas in the former, well it's bowchickawowow and all that.

Too bad I had to defer. I've got flowers and plants to water at home and still more plants that need to be put in the dirt. And I've got to dress down my housemate for not cleaning up after himself. And I've got to make a Jeremy sandwhich (you haven't lived, Dear Reader, until you've let me make on of those for you). And I've got to write this here blog.

Busy, busy, busy! ;)

On another note: I'd like to be able to explain why C3PO's voice kept repeating "Let The Wookie Win" over and over in my head when I was at the bar today, but I'd have to break a promise to do it.

As I made to leave for the day, I overheard the DD say to his friend, "Hey, we need to take you home buddy."

So, not very spectacular, but it's a blog post, hey?

Take good care Dear Reader. See you as soon as possible after work on Tuesday at Jack's, as Game 3 of the Sharks - Detroit series starts promptly at 4:30 p.m.

Day 122 - It's Easier To Write With No Pants On

2010-05-02T22:16:00.000-07:00

Sunday April 22nd, 2010

As to the post title: just sayin. Frees up the circulation (and the junk, tbh).

Today's visit to Jack's came after a quick trip to OSH for more garden plants. The trip to the bar was itself brief but fortuitous.

Brieef because I still had planting to do in the yard (the tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, potatoes, garlic and onions won't just plant themselves—though the local raccoon population will eat all of these vegetables anytime, planted or not) and not much time after that to shower up and receive Wendee at my abode for food and Sharks playoff hockey.

Fortuitous because Tall Nicole was present in a halter top that exposed the full majesty of the winged tattoo on her back. You might have seen her tattoo on the artwork in the bar, but to see it in color is a whole other experience entirely.

I imagine if Tanisha and Tall Nicole worked in tandem with back tattoos exposed, it'd be a lot like walking into a gas station and winning $500 bucks on a scratcher, which is to say one's timing would have been just right.

Old School Doug was in attendance, though not in his usual spot under Flat Screen #1 because a couple were on the short side of the bar, drinking and enjoying themselves (I've noticed that spot seems to attract couples on the weekend and during happy hour).

Doug took up the first seat where the bar turns the corner and makes its way up the length of the place. He had a bright shirt on—it wasn't exactly pink, nor was it orange. More of an indeterminate 7-Eleven slurpy color, like when you mix flavors and end up with a hue that violates the laws of physics with regard to the color spectrum (like they do at Adobe all day long).

To Doug's right sat a man in biker-ish leathers, his long straight beard a shade of dirty gray. To Gray Beard's right sat a woman in a purple/blue top and short denim skirt. To her right sat yours truly in a less than memorable outfit consisting of old blue jeans, dirty sneakers, gray S&S Drywall t-shirt, with my hands still dirty brown from digging in the earth earlier today (planting flowers is fun) and sporting a cowboy hat. That hat sure looked good on Tall Nicole too.

About three seats over to my right a short man stood at the bar, one hand on his bear and his head tipped up to watch Spanish national soccer (Valencia and ???).

The sun shined bright through the entrance to the bar and Nicole greeted me with that fantastic smile of hers. I said hello to Doug and shook his hand while trying to figure out just what goddamned color name I should assign to his shirt.

As I sat down at the bar with a bag full of Der Wienerschnitzel chili cheese dogs, I caught sight of Tall Nicole's eye shadow. It was a dual shade of what looked like lavender and orange, one shade on the eyes and the other filling in the space beneath her eyebrows.

Earlier when I was picking my food up at DW, I saw book clamp dude again and actually stood in line with him this time. I stood behind him and that's where I noticed he had a black cap on with the word "native" stitched into the back of it in white. Though the sun was bright in the sky and it was a little warm out despite the breeze blowing in, he wore his usual blue winter jacket and a few layers of black shirt and sweater underneath. He had a book in hand with that pair of orange clips attached to it to keep the pages in place. In his other hand he carried his just-bought from DW coffee. I watched as he sat down at one of the concrete-like tables and began to read while I waited for my order.

The topics of conversation, like the number of people at the bar, were not that many. What was heard and who was met that were of interest to me follows:

Tall Nicole spent four years working at Straights in Santana Row. For about two years she was the only female bartender there. After that (or during?) she worked at the Cardiff in Campbell. I'd sort of assumed she had less experience then that, which only goes to show I need to assume less and instead listen and ask questions a whole lot more.
I overheard talk from some industry people* about customers for whom the gratuity was automatically added to their checks the other night, but also left cash tips on top of the auto-gratuity because they were all of them in a rush to exit and make their way to the Shark Tank to see the Eagles concert.
If you date a man from Pennsylvania, be prepared for your guy to say things out of the blue in a monotone way such that you can't exactly tell if he's asking you a question or if he's saying he's about to go do something. For example: "going to the bathroom" or "going outside" ...absent the necessary tone of voice (like the verbal equivalent of punctuation) you can't tell if that was a question or a statement of intent.
Denim Skirt Woman is a traveling nurse. If you know anything about me, Dear Reader, then you know I lived with two women who attended San Jose State's nursing program. These woman often talked about being a traveling nurse and seeing the country. Denim Skirt Woman is living that dream, and let me tell you sometimes it's a nightmare. It should be noted DSW is already well traveled, having grown up in Florida and moved to Pennsylvania after graduation. She spoke of the dichotomy traveling nurses like her experience: DSW has worked the trenches and paid her dues on long night shifts spent in Med Surge and Peds, and by her account she knows her stuff, yet she won't receive prime assignments commensurate with her skill level because the nursing supervisors and doctors at her new assignment location don't know her well enough to trust her. She fears her skills will atrophy as a result.

DSW and I talked about what it takes to become a Nurse Practitioner, and how NPs are pushing to have the same ability to prescribe medication and receive equivalent pay as doctors.

(In case you didn't know: Nurse Practitioners are filling the void left by the shortage of doctors and in many cases are perceived as the Doctor when seen by patients.)

DSW told me that this change will come to pass, but the prerequisites to become a NP will change from Master's Degree to Doctorate.

Shoot, if you have a Doctorate then I suppose you ought to be called "Doctor", right?

Tall Nicole joined in on the conversation after that and we spoke about how getting hired in exclusive jobs that are low head count (that is, not many people do the job, but the job itself is a necessary/in demand field of work) is often a matter of one part knowing the right people and one part just being plain lucky.

I resemble that remark, inasmuch as the opportunity to work as a contract employee for Google at Stanford is concerned. And I wonder, Dear Reader, how you landed your last job? Was it all personal effort? Or was some amount of luck and networking involved?

Two beers and two chili cheese dogs finished off, so it was time for me to go home. I thanked DSW for the pleasure of meeting her, said goodbye to Old School Doug (and explained to him where I got my S&S t-shirt; we chatted a bit about Portuguese drywallers in the Bay Area as a result) and thanked Tall Nicole for her excellent service.

As I left I hoped DSW would choose to dump her boyfriend and move on to greener pastures. It also occurred to me that Tall Nicole's selection of music played at the bar is always awesome.

Lastly, I thought to myself for not the first time this weekend that the men of the world (or at least the greater San Jose area) are failing. Every day this weekend at least one woman made mention to me of the men in their lives and how these guys behave in a consistently lame manner (and that's putting it nicely) towards them.

These guys will say things like, "Oh, sorry, I go for women who work out more". They will encourage their girlfriends to meet them somewhere (at the movies or at Jack's) then stand them up and only bother to text (and not even call!) with some lame, last-minute excuse like "Oh, I think I need my space" (read: "I'm drinking with guy friends and want to watch the Shark's game with them and not you"). Sometimes they don't even bother to make contact until well after the time they were supposed to meet up.**

Extremely Fucking Lame!

Relationships aren't easy, obviously, and women can be just as difficult as guys sometimes. But come the fuck on. Really, men have it too easy and get away with too much.

I've visited Jack's bar enough times to say with confidence that the woman who frequent the bar are all of them superior in every way. They're intelligent, educated, strong, sassy, thoughtful, warm hearted and strikingly beautiful women (and for the most part out of my league).

But that doesn't mean other guys don't have a chance. These awesome women deserve better, fellas. Much, much better. So get to it, or I'll have Thunder aka Thunder fuck you in the ass.

See you Monday at Jack's, Dear Reader. Guard your backside until then. ;)

*You've probably noticed, Dear Reader, that I use the term "Industry People". This term, when used in the blog (or overheard at the bar), refers to people who are bartenders, barbacks, servers, waitresses, bus people, cooks and owners. If you ever hear a place has an Industry Night, that means drinks are discounted (say half-off) for people who work in the industry. Good bet you'll meet some interesting people at such a places on such nights too. I sure have at Jack's.

** Full disclosure: I too have pulled this shit in the past. Doesn't make me a hypocrite for pointing out this failing in others.

Day 121 - My First Roller Derby and Two Men From Afghanistan

2010-05-02T20:05:00.001-07:00

Saturday, April 21st

Quick post:

The roller derby was kick ass! And the Silicon Valley Roller Girls kicked ass in both matches. Thanks for hanging with me, Lindsay!

The after party at Jack's Bar was super-packed (like the most packed I've seen it in months) and DJ Traps and DJ Quantum were in full effect. The only other pair of people who could equal the DJ's intensity and skill were to be found behind the bar: Matt and Rina, FTW.

Ras Dank was on the back patio and Travis was at the front. They did one hell of a job keeping things calm and otherwise diffusing situations before they could get out of hand.

I should mention that Thunder was thoroughly fucked up. I cock blocked him once and I'm still alive. Proof positive that miracles do happen.

Out on the back patio (where I basically spent the whole night), the first man I met who'd come back from Afghanistan had just shaved off six months of beard growth. A beard's a necessary thing out there, apparently. His girlfriend was extremely pretty and was the first person in a long time who didn't take up time by talking to me about themselves. Instead she proactively questioned me about my passions and interests.

God damn that was a refreshing change too! (Note: I'm not complaining, nor am I indirectly criticizing various of the patrons at Jack's. I'm just saying it's really cool to meet someone who wasn't afraid to hit me with multiple open-ended questions).

Thanks to Wes for introducing me to these fine friends of yours.

The second man I met who'd come back from Afghanistan was sporting a new scar in his back from a knife would he suffered at an undisclosed (to you, Dear Reader, not me) location. The wound was received when his group was hit with a surprise attack and the security detail hired on to protect him and his group refused to do their job.

It was real nice to see Gary and Patti, Jessica, Leonardo da Vinci, Martha and Mercedes at the bar. Thanks to all the other regulars who said hello to me. I had a lot of fun meeting (and in some cases re-meeting) new people tonight.

Thanks to Feisty Irish for the bit of love at the Derby Bout and for talking with me at Jack's. Also the other Derby ladies and one of the bout's referees for answering questions about rules and the upcoming match in July(??).

I'd also like to thank the soon-to-be-married woman in the orange halter top and nipple rings for the impromptu lap dance and for biting Thunder's nipples and not mine.

Take care, Dear Reader. Sunday at Jack's awaits!

Day 120 -

2010-05-02T20:04:00.001-07:00

Friday, April 30th

Day 119 - SHARKS WIN!!!! And 300 Acres in the Santa Cruz Hills

2010-04-29T21:10:00.001-07:00

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..........

Day 118 - One, two, Freddy's coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door. Five, six, grab your crucifix....(good times)

2010-04-29T21:09:00.003-07:00

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!

Day 117 - Gabi's Eyes and Grizzlies Everywhere

2010-04-29T21:09:00.001-07:00

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!

Day 116 - Absolutely Fucking Hammered

2010-04-27T10:20:00.000-07:00

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!

Day 115 -

2010-04-27T09:42:00.001-07:00

Sunday, April 25th

Day 113 - Charlie Says I'm Beautiful, and I Suppose I Am Thank You Very Much

2010-04-24T13:47:00.000-07:00

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!

Day 112

2010-04-24T11:00:00.005-07:00

Thursday, April 24th

Day 111 -

2010-04-24T11:00:00.003-07:00

Wednesday, April 21st

Day 110 -

2010-04-24T11:00:00.001-07:00

Tuesday, April 20th

Day 109 - Ras Dank = Bingy Rebel! And Shift Changes

2010-04-20T23:44:00.000-07:00

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!!!

Day 108-

2010-04-20T22:25:00.003-07:00

Sunday, April 18th

Day 107 -

2010-04-20T22:25:00.001-07:00

Saturday, April 17th

Day 106 -

2010-04-20T22:24:00.005-07:00

Friday, April 16th

Day 105 -

2010-04-20T22:24:00.003-07:00

Thursday, April 15th

Day 104

2010-04-20T22:24:00.001-07:00

Wednesday, April 14th

Day 103 -

2010-04-20T22:23:00.003-07:00

Tuesday, April 13th

Day 102 -

2010-04-20T22:23:00.001-07:00

Monday, April 12th

Day 101 - I'm Going To Have Fun With This

2010-04-12T19:01:00.000-07:00

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!

Day 100 - Thank You, Sugi! Thank you, Allison. Thank You Sexy Ladies! Thank You All!

2010-04-12T17:36:00.005-07:00

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.

Day 99 - Double Fisting It

2010-04-12T17:36:00.003-07:00

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!!!!

Day 98 - How Things Are Done

2010-04-12T17:36:00.001-07:00

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!

Day 97 - Does Anyone Remember Wednesday at Jack's?

2010-04-12T17:35:00.001-07:00

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!

Day 96 - Best. Birthday. Evar.

2010-04-08T22:10:00.000-07:00

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.

The Recipe

Chef-In-Training Patty, In Action

Dinner Is Served!

Can't Forget Dessert!

Woohoo Jeff Made It!

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):

(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

2010-04-08T21:51:00.000-07:00

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.

Day 94 - Thank You Easter Bartender! Gulp, Gulp!

2010-04-08T20:55:00.000-07:00

(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.

Day 93 - Tijuana Hooker Battles and Sacks of Chicken Assholes

2010-04-04T14:49:00.001-07:00

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!

Day 92 - Crystal's Birthday, DJ B-Rich and Special Guests Hen Boogie and DJ Versatile

2010-04-04T14:43:00.000-07:00

Friday, April 2nd, 2010

I'd like to thank Crystal and Thunder for inviting me to their place for Crystal's birthday bash. It was real nice to meet your friends (particularly the woman who worked at a pub in London).

I'd also like to thank my bar buddy Gary (I don't see him all that much at Jack's anymore, but I'll always think of him as a bar buddy for life) for purchasing me a pitcher of PBR to drink.

Thanks to DJ B-Rich for letting me talk to him out on the back patio. Also for giving me the heads up on who was behind the turntables tonight. Tonight it was Hen Boogie and DJ Versatile. I had a blast listening to them as they ran their sets.

Thanks also to Tall Brian for encouraging me to read Kitchen Confidential by Tony Bourdain. I was used to seeing Bourdain on TV, but did not realize he'd gotten his start in part from the books he's written (according to Bryan). Hopefully I can pick up some pointers by reading his stuff.

There's a whole lot more that happened tonight, but I just don't remember much else (much like Wednesday).

See you Saturday at Jack's Bar & Lounge. Hopefully my neurons will be in better shape to make memories by then.

Day 91 - Not In The Mood For Beer After Yesterday

2010-04-04T14:37:00.000-07:00

Thursday, April 1st, 2010

This will sound like sacrilege to some, but I was well and truly not in the mood for beer when I walked in to Jack's Bar & Lounge Thursday after work.

There's a certain kind of feeling I develop (and maybe you have too, Dear Reader) when I've consumed too much of a certain kind of alcohol. It comes about as soon as the thought of having more of that alcohol pops up in my head at a later date, and feels a lot like the gut wrenching sick feeling a man gets after he's been kicked hard in the balls.

This feeling I'm describing is not as sharp as that, mind. Instead it's more visceral and reflexive; sort of a bodily "fuck you, we don't want that" response that starts in your belly and works its way out to your limbs.

In a way it's like death popping in for a moment to fuck with you by tugging gently on your soul.

Anyway, I still had my daily beer. Sat down next to Christian too and we talked about things I can't remember.

I do recall ACME coming in for a rare daylight appearance. I'd have liked to stay and talk with him about his Vegas trip (from which he'd returned today) but my beer was done and I was ready to do non-Jack's things for the rest of the night.

See you Friday at Jack's. I'll be rolling in sooner or later with Crystal and her birthday retinue, provided VTA doesn't kick us off the bus first. Take care until then, Dear Reader.

Day 90 - Dual Bartender Birthdays, Dual Pitchers of PBR

2010-04-04T13:52:00.001-07:00

Wednesday, March 31st, 2010

At Jack's for Travis' and Tanisha's birthday. The who's who of bar-goers are here. Lolz if I don't survive, remember me.

While I didn't get a picture of the birthday girl, I did get one of the birthday boy. Notice the dignity-stealing Birthday Princess sash (lolz):

Travis and Grady

Birthday Signage

Day 89 - A Simonette By Any Other Name...

2010-03-31T19:04:00.001-07:00

Tuesday, March 30th, 2010

Tuesday was a nighttime visit to Jack's Bar & Lounge. I walked in expecting to see Travis. What I didn't expect to see was Simonette behind the bar.

Now Simonette is not new to the bar scene, having worked with the likes of Shannon in the past downtown.

And I'll say this for her: not only is she devastatingly pretty, but as soon as my first beer was done she appeared like a bolt out of the blue to ask me if I was ready for another.

Yep, she's a keeper.

Dear Reader, you can expect to see Simonette and Travis on Tuesdays for the foreseeable future. When you get a chance, stop by on Tuesday nights and say hello. You be glad you did.

See you Wednesday at Jack's for Travis' and Tanisha's dual birthday party bash. Come early or I'll probably be too faded drunk to remember you when I see you.

Day 88 - Car Crashes and Not A Cherry Tree

2010-03-29T23:18:00.000-07:00

Monday, March 28th, 2010

Monday was real easy. Step off the CalTrain, hop in the truck, make a wee stop at the bank on Coleman, then head right on over to Jack's Bar & Lounge, all while listening to Through The Fire And Flames by Dragonforce.

It was like someone was getting married at the bar, what with all the pink and white petals strewn about on the floor from the Not A Cherry Tree (but we don't know exactly what kind of tree it is) outside. The floor was covered in petals all the way from the mat at the entrance to its cousin at the back door.

I imagined invisible faeries playing like the little kid that always does the flower petal tossing at weddings. How else could the petals get so far in?

Thoughts off faeries and wedding bells aside, it was pretty tame in the bar. Nothing magical beyond Aimee B. bartending and Jessica sitting at the top of the L-shaped bar.

I remember that when I gave Jessica a hug in greeting, she pressed the side of her face up against mine and I could actually feel the crunch through her jaw as she chewed on some goldfish. That was interesting.

Jessica sat next to Travis, who was still around from the end of his noontime shift, while Grady, Jerry and Wes filled in the center of the bar with me on the corner, plus a couple at the foot of the L, closest to the door, whom I'd not seen before.

They kept to themselves, this couple, and seemed somewhat bored. They sipped on drinks the color of San Jose Sharks teal.

Nobody that I asked could identify what kind of tree stands out front of Jack's, though all were in agreement that it wasn't a cherry tree. Which is to say you don't need to know what something is to know what it isn't.

Travis said that sometime tomorrow he'd check with Amy from the beauty salon next door to Jack's and have an answer for me the same day. Hope that actually works.

A few minutes later a dude I've not seen before walked in. Right behind him came Old School Doug and just like that the bar stools were pretty much all in use.

Even Old School could not tell me what kind of tree is outside, which just goes to show you that old people do not in fact know everything.

For the record, I'm turning 36 next week, so I'm fully aware that younger people are more likely to make that mistaken assumption when they ask me questions I have no fucking idea of the answer to.

And also for the record: as far as birthday presents go, I prefer hugs and kisses from the ladies and the chance to drink with the fellas (and the ladies too).

Travis is turning forty-something this week (you are coming to Jack's on Wednesday to buy him a drink and celebrate, yes?) and of course he's the exception to the old people rule above. That is, he has an answer for everything. It may not technically be the right answer, but I guarantee you, Dear Reader, it will be an entertaining answer; one that might just involve you.

Which is to say that in another life Travis was in fact a Zen Master.

But back to Doug. He did fill me on what the contents of all the orchards were in what's now northeast San Jose, up Taylor near White Road. Also around Center and Monterey roads too. Pears for miles, back then.

Speaking of driving miles and miles: Wes is using up his nine lives faster than a cat let loose in the middle of a busy freeway. I'm real glad he's OK, since a few seconds either way would have made a huge difference in his well being.

Word to the wise from me to you, Dear Reader: If you're ever in Merced, what you might think of as a four way stop could in fact be a no way stop. Best to slow down at all the intersections, if you know what I mean.

My beer went away real quick (damn faeries--bunch of beer-thieving alcoholics, all of them).

I said goodbye to the regulars and the couple (I chatted with the dude very briefly about the color of his drink; used it as a segueway into Sharks talk, even, but he seemed like he was winging it...probably a baseball fan...about the only inspired thing he said was that the Sharks are outperforming both the Warriors and the Raiders) and gave Travis a ride home.

You can see Travis back at the bar later tonight -he'll be on the door- when reggae gets under way.

You can see me tomorrow at Jack's, but later at night as I'm off to a pre-screening of Clash of the Titans with Wendee right after work. (Ha ha :p)

Take care until then, Dear Reader. Hope to see you Tuesday at Jack's!

Day 87 - I Love This Bar

2010-03-28T22:47:00.000-07:00

Sunday, March 28th, 2010

Went to the Shark's game and enjoyed watching them defeat the Colorado Avalanche, 4-3.

After dropping off the last of our group of friends, I made my way to Jack's for a much needed beer. Going to have to drag those guys to Jack's one of these days.

Inside I found thirteen people at the bar and Matt behind it. Best part of the night was when Jazmine played I Love This Bar by Toby Keith on the jukebox. "If you get too drunk just sleep out in your car" ...yeah, I've done that.

It's good to know a group of people and just be able to hang with them: Whether Sailor Tod, Robert and Jerry later in the night, Shannon and Lisa before they left for home, or Jazmine, Dark Haired Jessica and Travis in a peripheral sort of way.

Travis' birthday is coming up next Wednesday. Be there at Jack's, or forever regret missing a night of pure awesome.

I'd have liked to stay later, just to drink more and entertain the possibility Stephanie might show up, but the need to get home and get ready for work on Monday couldn't be avoided, so home I went after three beers.

Thanks for reading, Dear Reader. Come on down to Jack's Bar & Lounge sometime and let me know when you'll be there so we can share a drink together and share stories with one another.

See you Monday at Jack's.

Day 86 - DJ Qbert and Jim Marshall

2010-03-28T22:36:00.000-07:00

Saturday, March 27th

Post-Jack's closing I found myself at a house down the street, consuming homemade macaroni and cheese with buttermilk and water. As good as that was, the fact that the most beautiful woman in the bar made it for me made it that much better.

ACME you are one lucky man, if you ask me.

I remember the woman in the white one piece strapless skirt, with patterns of black and red on the front and back that looked like the jumbled up image of any of the four queens you can find in a deck of cards. She wore long suede stilleto heels that went up past her knees, but that still left plenty of room for leg to show before her skirt got started on covering up the rest.

Not that it did much more than shape the curves right underneath it as she moved about the bar like a python, daring anyone to get too close.

For all that, she wasn't the most beautiful woman in the bar. Maybe the sexiest, if you go on raw looks alone. But no, not the most beautiful.

I spoke to two people at the bar tonight, each of which shared a similar experience. What type of experience? The kind where you go to your idol's home. Where you visit them one on one and come away a better person for the experience.

One man I talked to went to DJ Qbert's house. He got to jam with Qbert on The Octagon. From this man I learned the term "biting", which is to directly sample something from someone else and use it as is, without making it your own. Sort of the street version of plagiarism, and you will get called on it if you do it.

The other man I spoke to visited Jim Marshall's house before he died. He got to see numerous of Marshall's rock and roll photos and even came away with one, as a gift.

What struck me in talking with these two men seperately over the course of the night was how similarly passionate each man was in relating the experience of having one on one time with their respective idols.

I count myself lucky to be able to hear these stories and sit with such interesting people.

I hope to learn more about you the next time you come to the bar, Dear Reader. It doesn't matter if you've been to your idol's house or not. All that matters is you, just as you are.

See you Sunday at Jack's.

Day 85 - The Days All Bleed Together

2010-03-28T22:19:00.000-07:00

Friday, March 26th, 2010

I was at Jack's on Friday. Honest. Just don't remember all that much. Well, I do remember some, but it's disjointed and broken up. Not the best stuff to write from.

I remember Fremont Matt grabbing my beard again, hard. I think if he does that again I might just knock him the fuck out.

See you Saturday at Jack's.

Day 84 - No Fancy Titles

2010-03-27T16:08:00.000-07:00

Thursday, March 25th, 2010

Quotes of the day:
"Nice balls, Jeremy" -Travis
"I haven't eaten balls, but my mom has." -Unknown
"Do dolphins have knuckles?" -Travis

Today, Thursday, saw the end of project 'Try it Grant's way'.

You see, my housemate bit on an offer of a free ticket to the Shark's game and asked me to give him a ride up there. Being the obliging sort, I obliged him.

After dropping my roomy off, I found myself in my truck as a sea of teal and white walked by. I knew I couldn't go into the Shark Tank, but I didn't want to leave all the people behind, either.

Thus I resolved to go downtown to have a drink and maybe a bite to eat and watch the game. I regarded my choices from the parking garage side of San Pedro street. The Old Wagon Saloon beat out Firehouse and in I went.

A turkey burger and 32 ounces of beer later and I'm off to Jack's by truck, with Laser Man in the passenger seat. Earlier Laser Man sat down next to me just a few minutes after I walked in to the Wagon.

At Jack's, we sat down on either side of Tod and Jimmy and proceeded to get our drink on properly. Travis provided us with a round of shots to get things started right.

Wendee came in after awhile, then Stephanie and her coworker Alex. Things didn't go too well with Wendee thanks to my trusty ability to verbally dig myself into a very deep hole, but I did have a very nice conversation with Stephanie, and I sure did appreciate that outfit she wore because I got to see more of her and she looked fantastic.

I like learning about her, one day at a time.

Mental note: be ready the next time a woman says, "Ask me anything you want." Not sure how I can avoid becoming temporarily unable to think if such a woman follows up her offer with a giant smile.

Stephanie's smile just grabs me. Wendee's smile does that to.

And of course all the smart-to-ask questions waited to bubble up into my conscious at exactly the point where Stephanie left for the night. All the how-to-get-in-her-pants questions popped up too, to be entirely too honest.

Now that I think about it, it's a miracle I can take my own pants off some nights, much less find my way into anyone else's. That probably explains why I sleep in my pants after a heavy night at Jack's.

Irony always lurks like a judge, waiting to balance the scales.

I just remembered: it's way more fun to watch someone draw a picture than it is to see the finished product. Seems totally random, Dear Reader? Well it's not, if you know who at the bar draws really well. I know just such a person.

Met a man named Oasis, who'd just come over from 7 Bamboo. His head seemed rather large on his shoulders, but I didn't tell him that. Also met a beautiful woman named Christina and her friend with the San Jose Firefighter's Car Show Get Together shirt.

Christina introduced herself to me after Wendee chatted her up about me and the blog. Good looking out, Wendee!

When Christina left for the night she had her hair down, whereas earlier in the night it was up. I remember introducing Oasis to Christina and he dared to kiss the top of her hand. Braver than me, that's for sure.

Outside I ran into a woman who I haven't seen in almost ten years. We worked together in the Deli at Booksmart in Morgan Hill when she was still in High School. Would've loved to chat with her and catch up, but her boyfriend forgot his ID so no drinky for them.

Back inside the bar, the men's room was full of surprises. For example, someone took the time to tag the side of the toilette in big black permanent marker. We're talking not quite graffiti level of coverage. Positively spider web looking if you let your eyes go unfocussed a little bit when you look at it. The head of the urinal was also tagged as well. I don't care who claims it: I'm still pissing in it.

Robert came in after work and showed me the 305 pictures on his phone. If you're ever on the top level of a parking garage in downtown San Jose, spent a moment taking in the view. If Robert's pictures are any indication, it's pretty awesome.

ACME, Bang-Bang! and Katie came in much later. Thanks as always to the brothers Magnusson and Katie for their kindness, generosity and concern that I get home safe.

It was either Katie or Travis who declared Totino's pizza rolls are officially a fourth food group in their house. Not sure how the subject came up.

Same is true for why women call each other up to discuss their latest bowel movement, whereas men are more practical and just take pictures to share later. Sometimes you fall into the middle of a conversation whether you want to or not.

Like every Thursday, Matt was behind the bar and all was well. Tonight, Travis was on the door for good measure.

See you Friday night at Jack's!

Day 83 - Go 50 Miles North, Then Figure Out What's For Dinner

2010-03-24T23:38:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, March 24th, 2010

Day three of 'try things out Grant's way' and this walking and not driving thing is turning out for the good, methinks.

Been watching this family + helpers + neighbors work on their front yard each time I walk by. They're not exactly moving at warp speed, but they got all the grass moved out, put a fountain in and hooked it up to a water line and have the walkway to their front door done.

The air smells good. I don't know the names of the trees or the flowers that I can smell, but I know which blocks smell more alive than others. You really notice it most when the wind blows down the numbered streets at each intersection on Taylor. The wind always comes up this time of year just as the sun starts its descent.

Jack's was pretty alive today too. Aimee B. was behind the bar and wore black in such a way that it made me think funeral fashion, or the impossible fusion of Goth and Rockabilly styles. More precisely: black half-sleeve Jack Daniels t-shirt, tattoos, bluejeans and a black flower in her hair to set it all off just right. Fucking awesome.

Tables 1, 3 and 5 --I number the tables that run along the back wall now 'cause it makes it easier to remember stuff-- were occupied, two men at each. There were about eight people sitting at the bar, for a total of fourteen + the bartender and myself.

Of these, seven faces I recognized, the rest I did not. Oh, and Holly. Can't forget her. ;)

Holly made friends at the bar today with a gal who came in with Sergio. I like Sergio because not only is his hair so straight and black that you can get away with calling it "Raven Black", but because he looks a whole hell of a lot like Robert Trujillo from Metallica. Also fills in a Vikings jersey like a linebacker.

I sat between Christian and Laser man and it wasn't long before the subject of what to eat for dinner came up. This topic broadened to what to do with the rest of the evening.

The idea was put forth to go to San Francisco on the CalTrain, then figure out what to eat for dinner after disembarking.

When the question of where to go and eat in SF was asked, Julius' Castle (now closed, if Yelp is to be believed) and The Stinking Rose (of the sort of garlic insanity that would test the metal of a native Gilroy garlic fanatic) were suggested.

One bar patron put forth that the last time he'd gone to SF, they simply asked the cabbie to find them the best Chinese restaurant and take them there, and that's what happened. Total hole in the wall place and totally awesome food.

Gabby has had a run of bad luck and is on bike number four, the last three having been stolen. She showed me the lock her dad got for her and her new bike: burnished metal the color of brass, thick, rectangular and heavy. Her friend said that's the kind of lock they use on the anchor chains for Navy ships. Here's hoping #4 lasts.

Not much of my beer left when I came back in. Wes had to go and Jessica along with Holly not long after. Mark and Grady came in a bit later and I remember how when I shook Grady's hand while standing next to him he sort of pulled me towards him as part of the handshake. That dude is solid like a brick wall. Have to remember to stand firm next time.

Speaking of handshakes, I always notice how rough Travis' hands are when we shake hands. He has hands like my dad's: rough and caloused, with thick skin, as though he were always wearing a pair of gloves. This blog needs more Travis and I'm gonna have to sit him down so he can tell me the story of his hands: what work did he do that made them so rough? Those hands have followed Travis half way around the world and that's something worth writing about.

Between Grady and Travis sat Katy. Katy is the kind of woman that plays Dave Brubek so loud you can hear it out front of the bar when she pulls up to the curb, even if her windows are rolled up. I've run into her three times now (though I've seen, but not met, her plenty of times before at Jack's). She's yet another person I ought to get to know better.

They say men are visual creatures. See it, chase it, kill it. See it, jump on it, try to hump it. That sort of thing.

Caveman instincts aside, there's something to seeing an object or person later in the day and comparing it against similar from earlier in the day as part of the male-mind-catalog process.

For example, today at work there were a few holdovers from spring break still on campus. Of these, some were women -athletes, I'm guessing- who wore shorts and rode their bikes along the arcing paths on campus, gliding by like swans on the water.

At the bar, one of the women wore shorts and sat on a bar stool. When she walked, she moved as gracefully as the bike riders. On a bike, I imagine she'd outshine all those athletes.

Mark's birthday tomorrow. Happy birthday dude! Don't forget to yell "FOUR!!!" before you fire off a shot downrange.

And that's another day done at Jack's Bar & Lounge. See you Thursday around sunset, Dear Reader.

Day 82 - Shark's Win! (Finally) and Talking Andrzej Sapkowski

2010-03-23T20:42:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, March 23rd, 2010

Walked to the bar again today for the second time in a row. Found Tanisha and thirteen patrons inside, of which there were several regulars and maybe three people I've never seen before.

Christian bought me my first round (thanks dude) and I sat down with Mark and co. to watch the Shark's take it to the Minnesota Wild. About the only thing nice as far as the Wild are concerned is that Owen Nolen (former Shark) is on their team. Otherwise: meh.

The bar filled up a bit as the game progressed. Eventually all five back wall tables were filled up. I moved over so two guys could take the last table and ended up sharing a table with Jim The Gamer.

After the game, Jim The Gamer and I talked about Google and his idea for a search engine that functions off of images and associated keywords.

Just upload an image (say of a flower for which you don't know the name) and add in a few choice keywords like "flower, San Jose, Bay Area, California" and the current date, then let the search engine index pictures of flowers uploaded by other people that include all or some of the same keywords and see if it can't just find out what kind of flower is in the picture you uploaded.

We also talked about gaming, in particular Shadow Run, Dungeons & Dragons and a fantasy setting created by Andrzej Sapkowski called The Witcher, which surprisingly enough to me is something I've never heard of (and I am nothing if not a fantasy roleplaying geek).

Jim was reading a novel by Sapkowski and went on for a bit with genuine gamer enthusiasm about the fantasy setting, the computer game and the fiction.

My walk home from the bar was extremely enjoyable. It's just so nice out right now. Not too hot and not too cold, with just enough of a breeze to make the flower petals fall from the cherry trees. They're so soft to the touch. Seeing Jessica in a blue summer dress wasn't too bad either.

See you Wednesday at Jack's!

Day 81 - Bachelor Parties and Blowjobs Declined

2010-03-22T22:03:00.000-07:00

Monday at Jack's Bar & Lounge finds me sitting a few seats up from the corner of the bar. The sun is still up and Springtime is a total tease, what with the blue sky, pretty flowers, leaves budding and Stanford students (where I work) frolicking in bikinis so small I doubt I could tie my shoes with them.

Nobody was wearing bikinis at Jack's. Holly was the only one who was technically naked (in a furry animal sort of way) so of course I paid attention to her first. You would too, 'cause Holly is the bomb.

Aimee B. was behind the bar and she hollered my name and served me up a beer just like that. I love being a regular at Jack's. If ever I should find money from this blog, I'm sending it all my bartender's way (minus a few bucks for a Taco Bravo run).

I admit I snuck a few peeks at Aimee, but she's got that whole died-hair that looks like it's turning into sunset light as the sunlight shines into the bar from outside thing going on and it's pretty awesome. I think that might have been a run-on sentence too. Sorry Mr. Schultz (best 8th grade English teacher evar).

Serious for a moment: I can ride the warm fuzzy feeling from a genuine Aimee, Rina, Tanisha or Nicole smile pointed my way for a good long time after I walk into the bar.

So, I said hello and waived to folks as I sat down and I noted there were a few brand new old-school looking bikes parked inside the bar. One was outside too. I need me a bike.

Jessica was on her laptop on the short side of the L-shaped bar next to Wes and Jerry's rough, gravelly voice could be heard further up the bar to my right. Several other regulars were in attendance and nobody was at any of the island tables along the back wall.

Pretty soon Christian came over and sat next to me. We got to talking about the latest cell phone technology that integrates some sort of sliding finger movement to make texting faster (Christian pointed out the same commercial that was playing on a couple of the flat panels which showed this new gadget, but I always just missed it).

This got me thinking about using technology to create a raised surface on the flat face of a cell phone that could shape itself into Braille patterns that flow across the face of the phone like a digital LED readout.

Then Christian suggested something similar that could also call out to a blind person via the phone speaker (or Bluetooth headset, come to think of it) when they reach a destination or even just get too close to the curb on a street. Basically integrated GPS with a much higher precision in terms of pinpointing where the device (and the device owner) is at.

Then the conversation shifted to strip clubs (conversational right turns of that sort are not that uncommon at the bar), strip shows and lap dances.

This led to the relating of a tale by a bar patron about the wildest bachelor party this person had ever been to. It happened at an Elks Lodge if you can believe it and involved a pair of strippers who were supposedly sisters.

Now when I first heard this I thought "sistas" as in lovely black ladies; but no, sisters as in "We're related, isn't that kinky?"

So anyway, the bachelors all assembled as the sisters stripped and did a lap dance for the groom and then took his flaccid penis out to suck it. But already being drunk and embarrassed in front of his friends, the act didn't finish quite as planned.

After, the party goers were lined up in two groups to receive blowjobs in separate rooms from the ladies. As this story-telling bar patron was the best man, he got to go first.

Inside the room, the stripper was sitting on a chair and smoking a cigarette as loud music played from a boom box above her head.

Storyteller: No offence, but I really don't want a blowjob right now.

Stripper Sister: No offence, but I really don't want to give you a blowjob right now.

The stripper then suggested they turn the music up more, wait a few minutes, then Storyteller could walk out as he zipped his fly up and high fived all the drunken guys.

Storyteller said that was the best idea he'd heard all night and then did just that.

My one beer for the day didn't last much longer after that tale was complete. I said so long to Aimee and headed out the door to walk back up Taylor with Christian.

That reminds me: This is "Try it Grant's way" week. I'll be walking or otherwise taking public transportation to Jack's all week long, on Grant's sincere advice. Less likely to get a DUI, kill someone or kill myself that way.

See you Tuesday at Jack's!

Day 80 - Butterface, Butterbody and A Friendly Lecture From Grant

2010-03-22T22:01:00.001-07:00

Sunday, March 21st

I've never had Persian breasts speak to me so forcefully before. I remember that much.

Day 79 - Slick Jimmy, Driving the Tod and Dancing with Rina

2010-03-21T12:44:00.000-07:00

Saturday, March 20th

Alternate Title: I Didn't Want To Irradiate My Balls

No, really. I didn't want to irradiate them. Thanks to NPR I now know that cell phones operate via microwave radiation. The broadcast radiation heats up the water in your tissues just like the microwave at home will excite water molecules to heat up food.

I usually keep my phone in my front pants pocket when I'm at Jack's. That's now officially too close for comfort. My little swimmers don't need a sunburn, if you know what I mean.

So, no phone and no note taking while at the bar. That meant I missed Sugi's text invite to hang downtown at The Wagon and Firehouse. On the other hand I did get to see Tod's warehouse abode...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

If it's going to be a nighttime visit, the best time to come in is at the transition between the day bartender and the nighttime crew. Thus I arrived to see many people in the bar, but not too many, with Tanisha running things. I found Jimmy and Tod already deep into a few rounds --Tod was like ten feet deep, Jimmy still in the shallow end and I hadn't even got my feet wet yet.

The house was out of PBR on tap so I opted for a Blue Moon, which Jimmy nicely bought for me. Jimmy also bought a few rounds of shots and I got him back later that night. Bouncing beers off of each other (that is, you get this round and I'll get the next one) is fun, and also very enabling when you're in the mood to drink. ;)

Not long after I arrived, Matt the Bartender arrived. A fist bump by way of greetings in lieu of a handshake, which was new. Jimmy told me his story of getting booted from Jack's for taking Tod's dare to see if he could do damage to the wood rail of the bar with his fist, how he broke his hand in the process (it's still broke) and how he ressurected his drinking priviledges after that.

We teased Tod about his manly looks and curly, Greek-statue sort of hair. This led to talk of naked statues and thus naked penises, which led to more general penis talk (Dear Reader, I have thus far spaired you the talk of penis that occurs at the bar seemingly every weekend, but no longer) and the determination that Tod is like a homing pidgeon: no matter how drunk he may be, he always finds his way home.

I could have let myself be content with this last, but seeing Tod very deep in the pool and recalling Gabby's words to me from last week ("Take care of him if you can. Keep an eye on him.") led me to offer him a ride home. Tod stood up and said he'd be fine, but with encouragement from Jimmy and me putting his arm over my shoulder, Tod and I moved like a three-legged race team out of the bar and to my truck.

Tod's place is a warehouse, it's awesome and I could see how bottle rockets would have plenty of room to fly inside. I liked the toilet seat screwed to the wall, the various signs, the couches and how comfy it all looked. Tod nearly brained himself on one of the coffee tables after stumbling into his place, but he caught himself at the last moment. We talked a bit about the place, then I excused myself. Beer still waiting for me at the bar after all.

Back at the bar and Jenny, Rebecca and Brooke were gone.

Before taking Tod home, I watched their purses at their table at Jenny's request, so they could go smoke.

Jenny has a commanding voice. Somewhere she learned the perfect pitch and tone that a mother uses to get a child's attention. It's also the kind of voice that can cut through heavy bar chatter and loud music without actually overpowering the louder sounds. She called my name with that voice and this was how she got my attention and I was up on my feet and moving towards her before I knew what the hell I was doing.

Before that, she told me that it's never best to judge someone from just a look, as we walked back into the bar together. There are in her words "ten thousand" questions to ask first.

Before that, when Jenny and I were outside, I asked her if she could help me learn to speak clothing. We had a fast lesson on the difference between heels, flats and sandals. What I thought were sandals on Jenny's feet were in fact heels, since they had about a half-inch rise on them. Then I learned that in Canada they don't use salt on the roads to help clear ice. Instead they use sand, which just like at the beach gets everywhere and is really rough on toes. Jenny's toes in this case.

Before that, I learned a bit about how women function in pairs and what really goes on in the ladies room.

For the first topic, women watch out for each other at a club or bar or wherever but also give each other enough space to operate solo. I learned that if two or more women are out and about, and are also married, then they're partners to each other. If they're not married, then the term wingman is more apt.

For the second topic I'd figured women just used the bathroom breaks to fish for compliments and reassurances from each other. Not always so! Instead, questions are posed like "Are you OK?" and "Where are you at?" The women that are part of the group but don't ask the "How are you?" type questions are not the best to hang with, nor the safest.

Before that Jenny informed me Rebecca would be coming out soon. As if on cue Rebecca shot out of the bar like a concerned parent, her eyes scanning to the gas station that sits on the opposite corner of the 4th and Taylor intersection from Der Wienerschnitzel, looking for Jenny. She moved so fast she didn't even see Jenny and me just to her left as she walk/rushed out the door.

Before that I went to the Happi House parking lot, where I'd just put my phone in my truck (I had my phone on me when I walked into the bar, but after remembering the NPR broadcast from earlier today I went right back outside to drop it off). On the short walk back across the street, I saw Jenny standing to the right of the bar entrance, cigarette in hand, looking fantastic in jeans that fit the lines of her legs and shaped her behind, and a faded brown California state t-shirt.

Time to pause and eat breakfast/lunch. Back for more, including:

Tanisha's laptop. A quote: I'm not pregnant, just retaining water. Salt on the neck of her Corona. Lick the neck and have a swallow of beer. Jimmy was far more entranced by this than I was.
Cynthia from Sweden, her shaven headed date (not from Sweden but like Norway or something) and their friend who was from Sweden also. They said Jack's is an improvement over Linda's Lightrail Lounge.
Trapps stepped out to give Vex1(?) some time behind the turntables and he played throwback early 90s tunes that led to dancing with Rina as she moved out from behind the bar and grabbed my hand.
Couldn't go home for all the police cars around Happi Lot. Alternated to Dennys which James Bang-Bang! reminded me was in fact iHop. Lolz someone should deffinitely not be driving right now anyway.
Red dominos at table 1.
Outside with Megan, flourescent shoelaces, layered shirt and matchign earrings.
Lots of females at teh bar and Jimmy was a happy camper.
Rina and Matt. Rina's halter top.
Run the spell checker lolz.
And the ending (already written): Not bad for not having my Blackberry to take notes with, eh? See you Sunday at Jack's!

Day 78 - Snoozing In The Foster's Parking Lot

2010-03-21T11:02:00.000-07:00

Friday, March 19th, 2010

Day 77 - Cowboy Boots and Cat's Eyes

2010-03-21T11:01:00.001-07:00

Thursday, March 18th, 2010

Scars are like cat's eyes: they both shine in the light of passing cars.

One scar in particular sat high up on a woman's chest, just below her left collarbone. It reflected the light of the streetlamps and cars, the reflection making it stand out on her smooth skin.

It looked precise, like a medical scar. Small, maybe an inch long. That scar tripped me up mid-conversation with her, but let's leave my verbal fumbles out of this for now.

The scar was flanked by the strap of her summer dress. The dress itself was not quite black, not quite brown. In the harsh red light of the jack's sign, it looked the color of heart's blood.

She wore three hairpins that I could count, visible over the part in her hair on the left side of her head, and she never seemed to let her cigarette stay in her mouth. Not that she wore any lipstick to smudge it with.

She always kept that cigarette in her right hand. I'd have forgot the tattoo below her right wrist otherwise.

Her left side wasn't done telling me things. The heart tattoo on her left arm, for example, wreathed in what looked like blue flame.

There was more symmetry to her when she walked up to the cherry tree, nose pointed to the sky so she could regard the white-pink flower blossoms the tree would soon start to shed next week.

Her dress was all parallel lines, the back side of it drawing a straight line from shoulder blade to shoulder blade as it wrapped around her torso. A similar line where her dress ended, right about at her knees.

From where I stood I could see the skin of her legs beneath her dress and a matching pair of tattoos, both looking fresh and new, on the muscle of each calf.

Beneath the tattoos she wore cowboy boots.

Imagine her as I've described her, Dear Reader, standing under the blossoming tree, in that dress, with those boots on. Perfection.

Ras Dank agreed with me on that point much later in the night, after she'd departed with her friend.

I happen to know that friend's engaged so I'm curious how she knows him.

They say San Jose is the 10th largest city in the country, but from where I'm sitting it sure seems small. Circles of friends run pretty tight out here, circles of acquaintances even tighter, as spending time at Jack's keeps teaching me day after day.

What I'm having a hard time learning is that it's easy to assume you've got something figured out, when in fact you don't. It's not easy to sit back and let the world explain itself to you, one moment at a time.

Or I could just ask ten thousand questions, per Jenny's advice.

But hey, I do have all year. ;)

Aside from the woman who walked up to the tree (like I did, a few moments before her), there was lots of fun had with Tod and Mark (Tod, speaking to Mark: I value my belly button lint more than I value your ex girlfriend), as well the arrival of Bang-Bang! and ACME, one wearing all black and the other all white, which reminded me of Spy vs. Spy.

I got John to point this out (I'm not that brave) and ACME swiftly replied, "Yeah, and you never know which one's going to hit you first."

See why I'm not brave? That would have intimidated me right out of the bar. ;)

I took the last of my notes on the night as I watched Gabby leave for home. I sad goodnight to Eva and Sean, then walked across the street to the Happi House parking lot where my truck was parked next to The Rock.

As I drove up Taylor, I saw all the barricades out in front of Cielito Lindo and for just a moment they looked to me like rejects from the Queen of Heart's army of cards, all standing around like construction workers, doing nothing.

Then I thought about how she always looms so large in my vision whenever I see her, but whenever I give her a farewell hug, she feels so tiny in my arms. Women are impossible like that.

See you Friday at Jack's, Dear Reader. Take good care until then.

Day 76 - Saint Patrick Kicked My Ass

2010-03-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, March 17th, 2010

Day 75 - The Golden Scorpion

2010-03-16T22:21:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, March 16th, 2010

I ran into Patty at the Train Station today and offered her a ride home. After showing me around her legendary house (where many a bartender hibernates during the day) we chatted a bit and she asked me to say hello to Shannon and Lisa at Jack's Bar & Lounge later tonight when I headed over there.

About a half hour after my visit with Patty, Ras Dank and their cat was concluded, that's exactly what I did.

Shannon and Lisa had a laugh when I told them "Hello from Patty, because she knows you'll be here."

Shannon and Lisa were interviewed by Aimee B. today at their newly renovated house. The subject was Shannon and Lisa's thoughts on going to Mexico after the recent violence there. If Aimee's teacher picks her interview it could end up as a clip on CNN. Good luck Aimee!

Speaking of Shannon: I got the skinny on his golden scorpion necklace. Turns out it's his zodiac sign. Like me, Shannon only has one tattoo on his top left arm. His of a scorpion, mine of the Gangrel vampire clan symbol (wolf's head).

If you read the blog regularly, you know that I find Lisa to be extremely attractive and beautiful. But she is in fact One of Three. Having now met all of her sisters, I'm upgrading them all to Borg status, since just like Seven Of Nine, all three are hot.

I chatted with Christian today about different frame rates for movies. Did you know in the old days frame rates were 30 per second? In Europe they're 25 per second. Also there are machines that function at 23.9 frames per second (I think for HD).

We chatted about purchasing bikes. You can get to downtown in like 7 minutes from Jack's on a good bike. Time to invest in one, methinks. Wonder if I ought to get a used police bike on the (relative) cheap?

On their trip, Christian and Jenny met their friend who plays the lawyer on the Scrubs television show (and who is in real life nothing like the character, btw). Christian recollected for me what it was like to live near Mann's Chinese theater and watch all the people look up and take pictures while he tried to navigate through the crowds just to get to Subway. "No thanks, I'm a local," was said often to hawkers of maps. Eventually they figured out he was a local and let him be.

3 tall kegs were sitting in the alcove just before entrance into the back hallway. Didn't get to see what was in them. Didn't get to talk to Jason today either.

Lindsay came in at the last minute with virtually no voice, poor thing. I bought her a beer and made sure to tell her she looked great (which she did, red lipstick and all). Lindsay's napkin notes to me and Christian follow:

Wished I could have stayed longer, but it was off to Cosco with me for some relatively crowd-less bulk grocery shopping. Why do I go on a weekday? Because shopping at Cosco on the weekends is a lot like driving to and then walking around the Raiders stadium on opening day, i.e. crowded as shit and you take your life into your own hands for a minimal reward.

Shouldn't forget Tanisha's no-look service ftw*. I hadn't even sat down before she had a beer for me. You fucking rock, Tanisha.

Nor should I forget the pretty woman with the red button up blouse with white floral print pattern. Extremely pretty and not unafraid to rearrange her blouse like someone adjusting the socks on his or her feet. Lots of that went on today.

See you on Saint Patty's Day at Jack's!

*Mom: that means "For The Win" ;)

Day 74 - Choices Made and Not Made

2010-03-15T22:36:00.000-07:00

Monday, March 15th

I'll say this for lessons learned at Jack's Bar & Lounge: when you know lots of people you better come to the bar ready to socialize.

I was most certainly not in a socializing mood when I walked into the bar around 9-ish tonight.

When the urge to talk did come up, the people I hoped to speak with were occupied or otherwise chatting with others.

Fortunately Jason, Anurag and later Waukeen were around and didn't mind the fact that I didn't have all that much to say.

Jason's spirits were raised thanks to some good news today. I hope that's only the start of good news for him.

Waukeen was in a good mood because he started his day shifts again at County. If I ever end up in jail, I hope he's the guard on my cell block.

As for Anurag: he's off to India in a week or so to start the process of an arranged marriage and will be gone for three weeks at the start. I don't think he'll be full on married by then; instead he'll be looking at up to three candidates. I need to get more details.

I can see he's worried, but also excited. I mentioned to him that I hope he finds an exciting, intelligent woman who keeps him on his toes and makes good babies. He mentioned that he hoped she was horny, so we toasted to that.

Christian was back from his LA trip with Jenny and I almost didn't recognize him with his glasses on. Congrats on winning another gig dude!

There was a Stephanie sighting. She was there to meet a dude whom I took an instant disliking too, just because he was there. ;) We could have hung out last night, but I had my fun (and then some) by choosing an alternate path, and hope she had a good night last night too.

I need to find a way to get some sit-down time with Stephanie, away from the bar, as I have many questions to ask her. Who does she think would win in a Batman vs. Captain American brawl? What's her chief complain about men and the dating scene? Is she willing to forgive a brown belt and black shoes faux pas?

Same goes for Patty too, for the love of Pete! (Dear Reader: Patty and I have been trying and failing to hang out together outside of Jack's for at least a year now).

Patty was there with Ras Dank, both of them behind the turntables and Dank had his shit together tonight. The music was awesome.

Tall Nicole was behind the bar and looked fantastic. She'd dyed her hair a darker color recently and that rainbow-like belt she was wearing was awesome. She wasn't impressed with the basketball fans (Nicole likes three sports: hockey, hockey and hockey), though I have to say Golden State played a great game vs. the Lakers.

Old School Doug was out pretty late. I didn't get a chance to talk to him before he left. Same for Grant.

Did speak with Aimee and Travis about last night's Tres Gringos adventure though. Man that was fun. I missed out on the females vs. dwarf wrestling in 45 pounds of cooked Top Ramen though. As I understand it post match the dwarf was puking, one female was bleeding and the other freaking out because she was breaking up with her boyfriend.

And that's another night at Jack's. See you Tuesday!

Day 73 - It's Not Just A Blog, It's An Adventure

2010-03-15T22:35:00.001-07:00

Sunday, March 14th, 2010

The reason Aimee didn't win the head count contest is because the money taker/head counter can only count to Tres (Gringos, that is).

Day 72 - Birthdays and Bloody Head Wounds

2010-03-14T12:18:00.001-07:00

Saturday, March 13th, 2010

Some pictures from Crystal and Thunder's near-simultaneous blackouts outside Jack's. Note I didn't use a flash and was hugely nervous about taking the pictures.

Now, though, I wish I'd used a flash and got right in close to catch all the blood.

That said, I won't mind one bit if there's never a next time.

Blurry shot of Thunder, on a back board and ready for transport

Crystal, already in the ambulance

Sugi in the foreground, Wendee and Superman (the dude who got Thunder upright and kept him stationary while applying pressure to Thunder's considerable head wound – he has a Superman belt buckle, thus the nickname) in the background

Day 71 - Friday With Starbuck

2010-03-13T19:21:00.000-08:00

Friday, March 12th, 2010

OK so Friday started later than normal for me. The last couple of Fridays have found myself with Sugi at Jack's around 8:30 to 9:00 pm, just before DJ Vagabond, DJ Overflo and DJ B Rich arrive to start their setup process for the night's music.

Tonight I landed at Jack's at 10:00 pm, to meet up with Lindsay aka Starbuck (Sugi was at work and could not attend).

Let you in on a secret: I don't like going to Jack's late at night on Friday and Saturday and here's why: It's crowded as hell inside the bar.

This is good for the bar. More $ and all that. And in all fairness to Jack's, they've opened up the back patio for the past several weeks and lessened the pressure of bodies in the bar (though on some open patio nights it's still crowded as fuck inside), but I'm still not keen on 'starting late'.

Nevertheless, Lindsay picked the time and so that's when I'd arrive.

Tonight I found Ras Dank at the door and Charlie behind the bar. Jack's was full of humans and the back patio wasn't open yet (turns out it wasn't going to be opened tonight at all) and I couldn't even see Lindsay sitting at the bar for all the people inside.

I might have found her eventually, but ran into Gary and his fiancé Patty at one of the wall tables (under the Serendipity print, actually) which ended up working out for the best as that's where Lindsay and I hung out for most of the rest of the night.

Gary pointed out Lindsay to me at the bar. She was wearing a leopard print hoodie, had on a gold necklace of what looked like the outline of a dove (I wanted to check further, but didn't want to be caught basically staring at her chestal region), tight black pants and sneakers. Her fantastically blond hair was glowed like neon inside the bar and I said hello and gave her a hug as Gary and I moved up to the bar to order drinks.

That little table became our island in the sea of people in the bar, which only got more full.

At one point I went to get more beer for myself and Lindsay and spotted an open spot at the bar. Problem was there were three very tall men betwixt me and my opportunity to drink more. I sort of asked-walked through their personal space and got the spot before another pair of dudes could navigate to it. After Charlie served me up the beers I turned to go back through the tripartite gauntlet of man towers. One of them said to me, "You look like Zac Brown."

I paused, not knowing who this was. I responded to them that normally I get told I look like Yukon Cornelius. Then I said that being told I looked like Zac Brown was much cooler, even though I didn't know who the hell that was.

Pic of Zac Brown (of the Zac Brown Band), shamelessly stolen from the internetz:

On my way to a smoke break out front (that is, Lindsay smoked, I just stood there and looked awesome) I ran into the aforementioned DJs, shook hands and with them and Vagabond pointed out DJ Basura who was tearing it up. Once again it must be said that DJ Vagabond is one very friendly person. He'll chat with you and talk at length about what he does. I didn't get to talk to him all that much tonight, but he still made the time for a brief "who's who" and I appreciate it.

Outside, Lindsay and I got caught up and she tried to help me to learn to speak clothes. As woman walked in, I would tell her what I thought they were wearing and Lindsay would correct me.

I needed lots of correction. What I thought of as one of a pair of saddle bags, Lindsay said was a purse. What I thought of as a vertical striped tube top, Lindsay said was not a tube top, but just a plain old Zebra print top. Must remember that just because it's clingy (and just because the wearer has big boobs) doesn't automatically make it a tube top.

The only proud matching-clothes-to-words moment came when I correctly identified a t-shirt as a t-shirt. It was on a woman named Denise and it read "Real Women Drink Beer". Needless to say I took an instant liking to Denise.

Gary and Patty were ready to go early (they were planning to go to a wine tasting on Saturday) so they bugged out.

Back outside we met Markass (emphasis on the ass; also spelling like how he wants it pronounced) and I introduced him to Lindsay. He asked me if I was from south side. I said, no, I'm from Jack's. Markass and his buddy (the buddy I would later see peeing on the wall in the alleyway at close) talked more east side, west side, south side with two thin dudes in granola colored clothes that looked like they just came off the rack at some Santana Row store and I thought it was kind of funny how men, with a little drink in them, will posture up like that and somehow think they're being macho. Teh lolz.

I suggested to Lindsay that we go back to Taco Bravo (my treat) and she agreed. I can't remember how Charlie the bartender got word of this, but on the way to Taco Bravo Lindsay produced a $5 bill and informed me we needed to order Nachos with no onions for Charlie and we better not forget.

The food was glorious by fast food standards. The sauce was addictive. Lindsay will sip the sauce right out of the container. You might think that's gross, Dear Reader, but know this: I do it too. So there. ;)

We talked about Jack's and as it turns out the couple +1 friend next to us --and dressed not like the type I'd peg to be at Jack's-- attended the White Trash party at the bar last year. Small world.

Back at Jack's after our trip to Campbell, Lindsay and I chilled (damn near literally, it was bloody cold outside) and chatted.

I walked Lindsay to her car, then went back inside as Travis and Nicole arrived from Fat Cats.

Once inside I found Jack's to be much more empty and found Robert sitting alone at a table. I walked up and asked if I could sit next to him. He agreed and we spent the waning half hour close watching old black and white commercials which for the most part creeped me out. I could feel the bass vibrating my pants as Robert and I chatted.

Soon enough Ras Dank hollered out "BAR'S CLOSED!" and Robert and I got up to leave. I said thanks to Charlie and Jordan, thanks to Dank, thanked the DJs and walked outside. I gave Robert a farewell hug and then walked to my truck as Jorge and three buddies walk/ran to the bar to get a fast drink before closing. I hollered at Jorge to hurry it up as I walked across the street to my beautiful piece of truck machinery.

Inside my truck the cab warmed up as I spoke to Wendee on the phone for a bit. I watched the DJs load their gear, then watched a young blond woman walk confidently into the neighbor's yard to have a pee, then walk back out and into the street before her friend could wrangle her back on the sidewalk.

Blond peeing woman hailed every car that went buy as her friend finished pulling her pants up while trying to pull her hailing-hand down. Fortunately their cab arrived and the friend guided blond peeing woman's head into the cab like she'd just been arrested.

See you Saturday at Jack's! It's Sugi's pre-birthday party woohoo! Look for Me, Sugi, Wendee, Crystal and Thunder Saturday night.

Day 70 - Meh On Titles

2010-03-11T21:35:00.000-08:00

Thursday, March 11th, 2010

@Jack's Bar & Lounge, post work and post work drama.

The bar was pretty packed today. The sun was up and there were around 37 people in attendance by my count. I'll say this for Tanisha, she knows how to draw a crowd and take good care of them.

Today Tanisha was showing a bit of her back as well as a bit of her front, which meant you could see the face inked into her back.

Not seen that face, Dear Reader? You could if you visited Jack's when Tanisha was working. Even so, that face is, as I've mentioned before, one that you can see when she's not there, if you know where to look in the bar.

Today there were lots of older adults at the bar. Like adult adults. The kind that wear business suits, business dresses (wtf do you call it, a power dress? help, oh people who speak clothing), have lines in faces, a few more wrinkles here and there, grayer hair and ooze wisdom.

I brought in a Metro with me and proceeded to read it while eating two Der Schnitz hot dogs and felt totally bearded-homeless-person-invades-the-bar the whole time.

Fortunately my bar buddy Gary showed up. I haven't seen Gary in awhile and I miss him. He looked stressed, but also very relieved. Why I can't say, but it's news I'm happy to hear. He hasn't been on FB in like three weeks, took his lovely lady Patty to see the parents and told me his and Patty's non-verbal communication is way up. Like psychic up.

In between all this I traded texts with, and a phone call from, Wendee. (Hi!)

A woman buffeted me with her purse. A lot. It was a fashion disaster, that purse, looking like something made of floral and plant pattern fabric cut from old furniture (or worse, old luggage). So I took pity and did not ask her to quit from approximating a person with no sense of the concept of personal space.

Sometime later Tanisha turned the lights down, the Shark's pre-game show came on and Mark somehow didn't know about the blog? WTF?

Shannon's gold, scorpion-bedecked necklace made me think of the Scorpion King. Lisa's camouflage top made me think Lisa looks fucking awesome in a camouflage top. There is a new hot tub in their future, too. I hope to see all their work once it's done. Especially since I can congratulate them both and Andy, who also did some work there.

Speaking of which: it was good to see Andy. Also Tim. I like Tim's voice. It's the voice of a general from another era of time.

On my way out I said hello to and shook hands with Stubby Fingered Man (Day 55) --the only hands in the bar I've ever experienced a handshake with that are as rough as Travis' hands-- and I'm thinking I want to change his nickname from SFM to "Death Grip".

You see, although Death Grip doesn't crush your hand when he shakes it, you still get the feeling that this is what it's like for Superman to shake hands, i.e., he's consciously trying to hold back from turning one of your appendages into sauce.

I'm thinking I might go back later tonight. Matt's working and Matt's fucking awesome.

See you Friday at Jack's! It will be all I can do not to order a pitcher and drink the night away with Starbuck.

Until then take care, Dear Reader.

Day 69 - (Almost) Seven Times Ten Days!

2010-03-11T20:43:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, March 10th, 2010

So, it's day it's almost day 70. Pretty fucking awesome, if you ask me.

It's not like a day 100, which has three didgets, but it's still divisible by ten, so that's something.

Now in order to get to Jack's on Day 69, I had to.....

Drive home from the train station
Meet the lovley Wendee at my place, change my socks and try not to hack and cough myself to death as this cold tried its level best to kill me dead
Drive to the AMC Theater near the Great Mall, then watch Wendee get the call from her promoter/radio host/going to chat with Liam Neeson in LA a week from today about being Zues in the Clash of the Titans remake girlfriend* that the movie we're supposed to get free passes for is in fact in Saratoga
Decide to not fight commuter traffic all the way to Saratoga
Drive around San Jose -- dodging said commuter traffic just to get closer to home -- and then decide to take Wendee to a movie after all
Park downtown, go see Alice in Wonderland
Then drive to Jack's

At Jack's, Ed and Kieth aka Keith were drunk. Well, Ed was awesome (don't try to high-five Ed, you can't win, ever) and Kieth was a little too intimidating with the ladies. I mean he was awesome too, like Ed, just faded a little too far to the left.

We ran into Wendee's co-worker (we'll call her Tagalog) that my bar chum (and this close to earning himself a PhD) Bang-Bang! wingmanned out of the way back on Day 35. She went after Wendee's boobies and, well, I kinda liked that (though Wendee was not pleased).

Out of a sense of fairness I insisted that Tagalog not ignore my manboobs, which were particularly warm and sweaty underneath a jacket and two layers of shirt. She felt me up anyway.

After that, I bought Tagalog a beer so I could clear the $10 minimum and Wendee and I could make our way home ASAP. Long day.

Rina was super busy behind the bar tonight. Ras Dank was on the door and DJ Benofficial was doing what he does best: spinning awesome tunes to the pleasure of the assembled masses. The bar was pretty full and Rina was zipping from one end to the other, fast as ever and with eyes in the back of her head.

Freshmen Crew are outshining the Legion of Superheroes on Wednesdays and Fridays.

Seems like the center table against the wall always attracts tattood females in the mood to show said tattoos. Tonight was no different.

Back Thursday at Jack's!

*She's picked her own bar-blog nickname, but she doesn't actually get to use it until she shows up at the damn bar and buys a drink. Minimum standards must be maintained. ;)

Day 68 - Caddyshack and Cold Wind

2010-03-09T19:22:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Brr! It's cold in a cold-wind-blowing sort of way.

Dear Reader, I'm from Colorado, which means a wind that drops the temp to around 50 degrees is actually considered a warm breeze where I'm from. However, in an attempt to be more like my fello Kaliforneans (as Ahnold would say it), I'm making like I need to shiver to stay warm.

My cough continues unabated. I sound old, hacking and wheezing like I'm an extra in a movie that features sick homeless people. Thankfully Jack's Bar & Lounge was toasty warm. I walked in to sounds of Enter Sandman playing on the jukebox. There were eight people inside and Tanisha was behind the bar.

She served me up a PBR just-like-that and when I win the lottery it's $100 tips for that kind of service, which is equal parts top notch and awesome.

I couldn't tell if the lights were already dimmed inside the bar or if it was just that overcast outside to the point where there was no extra light to shine into the bar.

Caddyshack was playing on the middle flat screen and I reverted to mindless-ten-year-old-in-front-of-the-TV mode. The sounds of Dean and Jason chatting with Tanisha faded to the background of my consciousness as I'm Alright by Kenny Loggins (lala link) played in my head.

I watched Bill Murray go to war against the ever-dancing gopher, already knowing who would win, but was still thoroughly entertained.

One beer done, time for me to run. See you Wednesday at Jack's!

Note: if you read this today (Tuesday) don't forget Travis comes on at 9:00 p.m. Humor will ensue. If you need laugh-induced endorphins, go pay him a visit. Hellz I might just go back too.

Part 2: Bix Axe or Big Ass?

If you're Anurag and from India, it's Big Ass. If you're Travis promising a birthday present to The Author, it's Big Axe, along with a red beanie.

Some dude thought Anurag was FOB (fresh off [the] boat) and tried to tell Anurag he'd call him "Hindi".

I said to Anurag that if the dude was gonna do that, then Anurag could call that dude "Juan" 'cause he's obviously Mexican.

Biatch. Don't mess with my people.

It was nice to meet Hilda. She's in her fourties but sure as hell didn't look over 40 to me. She was big and beautiful, just how I like 'em. Smart too. Spoke some Spanish so I busted mine out too. Bilingual women are awesome. She had eyes for Anurag so I stayed back.

Travis supplied me with beer, Sprite and Jack Daniels. I supplied Travis with cash on the bar. Keep the change dude.

The brothers Magnusson rolled in with Katy, and all was well. James Bang-Bang! wore a soft brown leather jacket. When you're impervious to the cold* like James, that's just how you do it. Katy will have an awesome grandmother voice. I'm sure of it.

Thanks Anurag for playing Metallica (One and Whiskey in the JarO), for letting me buy you a Jack and Coke and for putting up with me saying "indeed" all the time. I only do it to piss you off. Fucking Britishers! :)

Watching Travis as he watches TV, it's like watching a five year old with his hands in his pajama pockets, his head tilted to one side slightly (except that this five year old can in fact kill you - but does not mind if you watch him at work; in fact, he likes it).

Late night adult cartoons are good for that, I suppose.

See you Wednesday at Jack's! Don't forget to tip your bartender too. Without them, where would we be?

*all my Facebook friends are complaining about the California "cold" weather today. I should rent my body out as a bed warmer. Signed attestations as to the efficacy of my bed warming skills are on file. I'm truly good at that sort of thing, especially on a night where I'm burning off alcohol supplied by Jack's. By me a drink and take me home. I'm like a mobile fireplace.

Day 67 - Can You See Yourself In My Pants?

2010-03-09T19:06:00.001-08:00

Monday, March something

For the record: I didn't actualy see myself in Jessica's pants. However if I did look, the small mirror on the back of her thong would reflect my ogling face right back at me. Then she'd pop the question that is the source of today's blog post title.

In addition to being Holy's mom, Jessica is someone I regard as awesome, though I basically don't know her all that well. Need to work on that.

Cadu is playing on my iTunes. I like playing music made by people I've hung out with at the bar. He performs locally, btw. Downtown SJ recently, if I recall.

So anyway, it was a pretty thongy sort of multi-part day at Jack's. Lots of movie talk in the first half of the trip. Jerry led the discussion by sheer dint of vocal power and Travis and Dean contributed as best they could to the discussion. Whenever I got out of line, Jerry palmed my bald head like Shaq grabbing a basketball and put me right back in line.

Then Jessica showed up and blew them all away. Especially with her Top 5 list generated in relatively no time at all (see below).

What do you think about a Tuesday movie night at Jack's? Travis is up for it. So am I.

After leaving Jack's and visiting downtown with Christian (thanks dude for dinner, drinks and good times at P.F. Chang's, Cinnebar and Fahrenheit!) I attempted some beer thievery to start the second half of the day (well, night) at Jack's.

Thankfully neither Black and Lacey (that's a thong description; try and keep up, Dear Reader) nor her date saw fit to bust my chops over it. They helped sort the hodgepodge of half-consumed drinks at the corner of the bar, taking their beer out of my hands and handing me mine.

Now I can't remember if they stole our seats or if Christian and I stole theirs. Either way I had a chance to chat and look at thongs, so it's all good.

Black and Lacey is wise in the ways of Wines and Spirits (I have the cards to prove it) and has one of those impossible faces that doesn't actually need any hair to go along with it. This must sound crazy to you, Dear Reader, but I tell you such women exist. It's all in their face: expressive, with cheeks, chins, noses, foreheads and lips that somehow communicate as much as a pair of eyes ever could.

I wonder if her date/friend/male wingman/whatever sees her the same way?

So, images of today's trip follow.

Starting with the receipt: Jessica's list of top 5 movies. Next, a condom pack "sex kit" that Christian found on the floor at Jack's (and that I'm irrationally afraid to open). Below that, a fortune cookie fortune from P.F. Chang's.

What are your Top 5 movies of all time, Dear Reader?

See you tomorrow at Jack's!

2010-03-08T22:25:00.001-08:00

Damn......missed Stephanie. Life has given me all that I could want, but I still want something else. Damn riddles of life.