Day 49 - The No Gas Adventure

Thursday, February 18th (noted, since I don't always write entries the same day I visit the bar)

First, a little house cleaning: I've fixed the day counts from the last couple of days. Everything should be sequential now, with no "Day 44" repeats.

:)

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Getting to Jack's Bar & Lounge would seem a simple task, or so you'd think. 

• Get off train.
• Check out interesting people (and look for beautiful women, to be honest) exiting train.
• Smell the air for familiar and unfamiliar scents -train exhaust and perfume- and to check the temperature and any hints at the state of the weather; also pinch ears shut as you walk on the island between two loud-as-thunder trains idling on either side of you before you make it to the ramp and exit tunnel that leads under the islands and to the train station proper.
• Walk down the ramp, trying to keep up with the flow of people (why in such a hurry?), listen for the click-click-click of someone walking a bicycle close behind you (jerks, they're supposed to wait), then back up the ramp into the heart of the train station; continue watching people (do I recognize anyone from this morning - if yes, are they in the same mood?) and checking out the women.
• Exit the train station and walk to the truck, dodging buses (God if even one of those bus drivers ever loses it then we're all of us dead), cars zipping in as though they were being driven by valets eager for a good tip --when really it's just the husband or wife or significant other of a fellow train-goer who also happens to be rushed-- then unlock the door to my totally awesome, smells-like man truck once I reach it.
• Drive to the best bar on the North American continent: Jack's Bar & Lounge.

Simple, right?

Aha! Not so!

For today I was running on empty. The little, yellow-orange "you're about to run out of gas, you fool!" light blinked on as soon as I started my glorious truck. No problem, I thought, I'll just drive to the gas station on Coleman. I fished for my wallet inside my backpack, took it out and it felt pretty light. I opened it and found no debit card inside, no gas card inside and no cash inside.

This is my I'm not in charge of the nuclear weapons.

What to do, though? I looked up from my belongings in the passenger seat of my truck and searched the facade of apartments on the other side of the train tracks for an answer, but all the hanging signage encouraged me to do was take out a lease that I couldn't afford.

I cursed myself for idling my about-to-run-out-of-gas truck while my brain searched for a solution at far fewer cycles per second than my computer runs at home, put my truck in reverse and backed out of my space.

Another curse escaped my mouth: as I pulled out of the parking lot onto Cahill I found myself at the wrong end of a line consisting of five cars and a bus, all waiting for the light at Santa Clara Street to turn green. The big screen signage on the Shark Tank distracted me and I didn't discover that the low-fuel light had gone away until we got the green arrow and I turned left on Santa Clara.

Hrmm...maybe I could make it to the bank? I resolved to drive to the WAMU-turned Chase [i.e., the "we suck at banking and lose your deposits in our ATMs" Chase - with apologies to any Chase employees reading] at the Coleman shopping center, then either drive (if the gas gods smiled on me) or hoof it to the Valero gas station further up Coleman.

Down the hill and under the train tracks bridge, then back up and a quick right turn onto Stockton Avenue. I panicked for a second as the warning light came right back on when I went down that hill and it stayed on for half my trip up Stockton, but then the light went away and thankfully none of the street lights intercepted me before I made it to Taylor.

I hit the CD player and punched up some Lamb of God. Things always go better with Lamb of God.

Once at the bank, I parked on as flat a surface as I could find and went inside. I felt silly not having a debit card, but my ID served well enough and I got to fill out a withdrawal slip for the first time in awhile. All of the women behind the counter were extremely pretty and helpful. Way better than an ATM experience, I decided.

Cash in hand, I returned to my thirsty truck, apologized to it as I got in the driver's seat and promised we'd get it something to drink if it would only take us both far enough up the street to the gas station.

The wait at the Taylor and Coleman light was the single longest wait for a light to change I've ever experienced, or so it seemed. The no-gas light was back on and seemed to glow even brighter. Unwelcome questions came to mind as my eyes darted back and forth, pacing the cars going by in the intersection and tracking the cycles of the stoplights: Did I really just sit through an entire playing of Redneck? If my truck died, could I push it the rest of the way? Did I even have a spare tank to put gas in?

Traffic stopped flowing left-right and right-left in front of me and I took my foot off the brake in anticipation....

....then slammed my foot back down again so I wouldn't hit the unmoving vehicle in front of me. People waiting for the fucking left turn arrow get to go first, after all.

After that traffic cycled through, the light turned green and I gingerly pressed down on the gas pedal (my truck is a Toyota, but I'm not part of the gas pedal recall, thank God). A few short moments later and I was at the gas station, woohoo!

My rejoicing was short lived, though. I was forced to sit half in and half out of the street, waiting for a completely full gas station to sort itself out while I blocked an ever-growing line of traffic behind me.

Fuck! My! Life! Running out of gas this close to my goal would suck beyond all comprehension, but would also be kind of funny.

Thankfully the person in front of me finished executing her sixteen point turn (it seemed like sixteen turns, but might have only been four) and got the hell out of the way. I pulled into her spot, turned my truck off and went to go pay the cashier.

[fast forward...]

Two blocks from Jack's on Taylor, I saw Mr. McBride walking up the street. I wondered if he would be going to Jack's, but he ducked into one of the corner liquor stores.

The cones in front of Happi House had rearranged themselves again, this time forming a tight path barely wide enough to fit my truck through. I parked at Happi House, gave The Rock a withering, it's-your-fault-I-almost-ran-out-of-gas look, then walked across the street to the bar under a flat sheet of iron-grey clouds.

I stepped inside to the sound of Tanisha working through a fit of coughing; the kind that sounds like someone's sick with a cold. I sat down amongst the seven men and two women at the bar, never making eye contact with her, yet she insta-served me a beer. Fucking awesome.

I told her I hope she got to feeling better. As time went by in the bar I noticed she never coughed again so it was probably something she drank as opposed to a cold. Oh well, my sentiments were sincere.

There was only one person sitting at the back-wall tables, a man whom I didn't get a good look at save to learn his attention seemed to be on the flat screen TV closest to the front entrance of the bar. I followed his line of sight and found myself observing the results of the USA vs. Norway hockey game at the Olympics (have fun, Jordan). We slaughtered Norway, 6 - 1.

Beneath the flat screen sat a couple I recognized, but whose names I forgot. I tend to see them only when Tanisha is working and they're always very nice and friendly. I've spoken to the man before about Hockey, but didn't do much more than say hello to him from across the bar tonight.

Of the four remaining TVs, three had college hoops on and one had Super Bowl replays. My attention was drawn to the later because the replay showed a balloon crash at the start of Super Bowl IV between the Chiefs and the Vikings. Some dude in a viking helmet chased his errant balloon across the field, then jumped into it just before it ran into one corner of the stadium.

I'd written, "lolz no nipples were exposed in the crashing of his balloon" into my phone at some point during the replay, but I can't remember why.

The Olympics coverage switched over to curling (I know too much about curling now) and I saw that the scowling bottle of Patron Orange that sat on the center shelf overlooking the bar had been turned around. It seemed far less fierce now that the logo was showing.

A plastic bottle of Organic Original Green Leaf Sweat Tea sat on one of the rubber serving mats directly in front of me at the bar. Must be Tanisha's, I thought.

The bar-goers sampled pink tequila and bought rounds of Gentlemen Jack's and Woodford Reserve. Outside the clouds had darkened and stubbornly refused to let any sunset light get past them. It simply got dark outside, without any real transition from day to night.

The air smelled good as it flowed into the bar. Not long after Jason arrived and ordered not a Red Stripe (his usual) but a Jack and coke.

This prompted a friendly "WTF?" from Tanisha, which caused the female half of the couple on the short side of the bar to ask, "What does WTF mean?"

Adults live such sheltered lives.

Jason shrugged and went back outside. My beer done, I grabbed my coat and put it on as I walked outside, chuckling inwardly and not waiting to hear Tanisha's explanation. Jason was already on his phone so I sort of half-waved/said hello to him as I walked under very dark clouds to my truck, then drove home.

See you on Friday for a much less stressful trip to Jack's!

Day 48 - Beer Cures Ocular Migraines....

...but only if you buy the beer from Jack's Bar & Lounge.

That's what I did, at any rate. Throw some fish crackers and trail mix in a bowl to go along with it and a trip to Jack's is a lot like a trip to see the doctor (paging doctor BuPane!) except the medecine doesn't taste bad.

PG&E had all of the south side of Taylor blocked off so there was no parking in the sweet spot for me at the end of my drive to Jack's from the train station after work.

I had to drive down to 5th and loop around the back side of Happi House to park in their lot, then walk back up 5th to the intersection at Taylor and cross the street to the Cielito Lindo Restaurant & Bar before turning west and walking back down the block to Jack's.

The sound of dump truck engines and backhoes could be heard the whole way.

I saw a man in a white shirt on the phone outside. His dog(?) was leashed to the pole next to the Jack's sign outside and he said, "What's up?" as I walked by. I said hello back and went inside.

Aimee was tending bar and I didn't see anyone sitting at the tables as I grabbed the last spot along the bar near the door and took a seat.

The couple to my left asked how I was doing (can't remember their names atm, though I've met 'em before and they're pretty cool) and I told them I was suffering from an ocular migraine, but other than that I was fine. That sort of killed conversation and I felt bad for that. I wanted to chat.

I ordered up a PBR from Aimee and asked for some goldfish, at which point she offered up some of her trail mix. I said yes to it all and busied myself with salty food consumption while I drank my beer.

The sounds of construction worked being wrapped up for the day flowed into the bar and kind of drowned out the sound of the radio and I can't even remember what was on any of the flat screen TVs.

One customer left and soon after Wes strolled in. Aimee pointed him to the end of the bar where the newly vacant seat was at, just the other side of Dean.

About that time my beer and bar snack was done and let me tell you I felt a whole lot better. There were no more flashy, half-moon shaped slivers of light blocking out my vision and my head hardly hurt.

Fremont Matt walked in for a beer and I gave up my seat to him. We chatted for a bit and I hope his Saturday all-day BBQ goes well. Ribs always sound good.

Too bad the cheese steaks aren't being cooked over the weekends at Jack's. I'd buy one up then.

See you Thursday!

PS: It's the one year Anniversary for Hip-hop nights on Wednesday with DJ Benofficial. Jack's is doing $5 Long Islands and AMF's (not sure what those are, lolz). Gratz to DJ Benofficial, thanks for making Wednesdays awesome and for being so friendly. I heard his name on the radio the other day too. Things are looking up!

Day 39 - Wes Cuts In On Doug (In A Good Way)

I pulled in to the Happi House parking lot on Monday night and noticed my mortal enemy (The Rock; who incidentally happens to be of the opinion that it had the claim on that name way before Alcatraz stole it) was blocked out by a white car in the adjacent parking space near the Taylor street entrance to the restaurant.

I backed into a space way over on the other side of the lot just as the 68 bus stopped to disgorge some of its occupants.

I saw a man in a very nice leather coat, smart looking hat, glasses and matching shoes walk through the parking lot with a plastic grocery bag in one hand and a black acoustic guitar in the other while a slow drizzle of rain fell from the sky.

I've ridden on a lot of busses in my time, but I've never seen a well dressed man with a guitar and no case on a bus before. It sorta hurt to see that guitar get wet.

I watched him make his way around the back of the restaurant, then disappear somewhere down 5th Street.

As I stepped out of my truck, I saw not one but two big trucks parked at and near Jack's. I like it when I recognize people's vehicles: major foreshadowing for who's inside the bar.

The rain picked up a bit as I j-walked accross the street. I though this guy in a(nother) big truck was slowing down to let me cross, but as it turns out he was ignoring the road so he could text while driving.

Lolz you know they're close when you can see phone glow on their downturned face as they pass by.

Inside Jack's Bar & Lounge, the bar was not all that packed. Aimee was tending and I think there were like eight people (three women, five men) in attendance.

I noticed there were small business card sized....er, cards underneath each of Aimee's art pieces with her name in large print and the name of each piece underneath. Serendipity is the name for my favorite of the bunch and I think it fits just right. I still can't remember if that's the name Grant picked out for it or not (see, ACME? I don't remember everything that happens at the bar).

I said hello to Wes and Doug and sat down at the corner of the bar. Wes came over and took a seat next to me. We chatted for a bit about what it's like to have a house-full of rock band dudes for roommates. Then talk shifted to Texas and where we were all from.

The man to my right had a voice that to my admitedly less than perfect ears sounded a whole bunch like Captain Robau of the USS Kelvin (see the first part of the latest Star Trek movie). We're not talking accent so much as the robust, deep sort of pitch (tone?) of his voice.

Anyway, this man's name was Anurag and he's from India. I told him about my blog and my mission to hit Jack's every day this year. He gave me the OK to mention him.

It's worth noting that I almost didn't get to meet Anurag, which is to say I count him lucky to be alive since his first ever mosh pit experience was at a Metallica concert some four years ago. According to Anurag he was more or less forced into joining the crowd without being warned that a mosh pit was going to form around him.

Anurag and I talked about learning new languages. I'm learning bits of Nepali from my coworker, Anurag knows some German (Ramstein rules!) and is learning Spanish.

He made a good point about how English has many words so you sort of have to describe everything, whereas with Spanish you can say a lot with fewer words. I also liked his point about how learning a language is kind of pointless without also learning something of the culture that language inhabits.

After catching some fresh air outside, I went back in to find Doug at the jukebox. Doug already had a good set going and returned to the jukebox to load up some more songs when Wes jumped in to add Corpus Cristi Bay by Robert Earl King to a mix that already included music by Tom Waits, Willie Nelson, Joe Cocker and Stevie Ray Vaughn.

Now see here's why I like Jack's, because I learn stuff. I did not know, for example, that Joe Cocker was an Englishman, which totally surprised me. Were it not for Doug, I'd have lived a life bereft of this fact.

I liked how Doug related that the first time he ever heard Cocker (some 40 years ago) he thought he was listening to a black man from the south.

About the time Shannon and Lisa showed up I was ready to depart Jack's.

I did notice signage up on the walls for the F*ck V-Day Party at Jack's on February 13th at 8 pm, hosted by none other than the Silicon Valley Roller Girls (a veritable legion of Goddesses, if you ask me).

Should be fun!

Day 35 - I Kissed A Girl and I Liked It

....with apologies to Katy Perry. ;)

Another rainy visit to Jack's Bar & Lounge started with me exiting out of my truck at the Happi House parking lot accross the street from the bar.

The nice thing about the rain is it forces people who smoke to pack together under the awning next door to Jack's at Amy's Beauty Salon, which is a great way to meet people.

No sooner did I step under that awning than I realized that --being the paragon of consistency that I am-- I had once again left my lighter at home. No good standing around smokers and possible future bar friends if you don't have a lighter.

However, I did go inside after Chili asked me for a light. When I came back out with free matches from the bar, her friend Carl was waiting patiently in his car for her to finish her as yet unstarted cigarette.

Not sure why he had the window down to keep an eye on her, since Chili wasn't half as drunk as her friend who'd just left and who'd made a point of pressing her ample breasts up against me while peppering me with questions about where I learned Spanish, how long it took to grow my beard and why didn't I have a lighter?

Yep, drunk females who smoke tend to like beards.

Anyway, Chili smoked down her cigarette so fast it was like watching newspaper burn. Before she left she promised that she and I would talk some more (in the way that people do which only assures you the promised thing will never happen) because she's a very interesting person.

Back inside I chanced upon Elijah Wood and my bar buddy Handsome Techie, but not before ACME's brother Bang-Bang Kla-Klow! bumped my beer with his elbow.

Bang-Bang! felt the pain ride up his arm and I felt the warm, breasts-were-just-here feeling on my belly get drowned out by the chill of cold beer.

Fortunately Elijah Wood saw this and pored half his beer into my glass. Bang-Bang apologized to me, then remarked he'd never seen anyone share their alcohol like that before.

I thought to myself 1) it's weird, drinking beer from another man and 2) I would now happily kill anyone for Elijah Wood if he asked, because I really appreciated what he'd done.

At that point ACME returned with more drinks and told us a story about the time it became necessary to say to a group of rude customers long ago, "You shouldn't mess with people who touch your food." Lolz no kidding. That's a bit Fight Club-ish now that I think about it (see below).

Then talk shifted to visits to the unnamed islands between Greece and Turkey. The contrast in cultures is, apparently, somewhat unsettling. For example, a woman sunbathing on a beach could not have her breasts out in the United States, much less allow her ten year old son to play with them experimentally. But on those islands, it was fine and dandy.

We're all such a bunch of prudes here in the US. Let's all take our shirts off, what do you say? (you go first) ;)

Handsome Techie and Elijah Wood moved off to other parts of the bar and I had a nice long conversation with Bang-Bang! and ACME at one of the side wall tables in the bar about military life, dating an Admiral's Daughter, going on the Tiger Tour(?) out of Alameda and what it's like to write this blog. Thank you again to Bang-Bang! for reading the whole damn thing. That's awesome, dude.

Ok, notes time:

• OMG thank you jukebox people for playing real rock! Audioslave, AC/DC, and Through the Fire and Flames by Dragonforce! It's not just a cool end-credits song on Guitar Hero, you know.
• Thank you ACME for the double Stoli vodka shot and for the beer.
• Bang-Bang! for poring his double vodka shot into my hybrid Elija Wood mixed beer when I wasn't looking, then denying it.
• The men's bathroom fan reminded me of an Albert Einstein quote after the second time I stood underneath it and condensation dripped down on my head: The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
• The lolz as ACME snuck up on Bang-Bang! and Dempsied him and more lolz when Swearengen tried to Dempsey Kelly aka Ultimate Raiders Fan and she fought back with Pink by Victoria's Secret.
• Ultimate Raiders Fan for the story of how as a little girl her parents gave her permission to swear at the Raiders - Broncos game, so long as she only cussed at John Elway. Teh awesome. 
• Gigantor for talking up all the pretty ladies (he's a pimp, that Gigantor) and for not killing me with your laser eyes. Thanks also for the friendly smile and the firm handshake. You rock dude.
• The two laides at the corner of the bar who pointed at Aimee's new photographic artwork on the walls, then pointed to Matt aka James Dean behind the bar, who is himself featured in two of Aimee's pieces. Little did I know...
• Thank you oh beautiful woman who calls me "old soul". My God is there a more wonderful breath of fresh air in all the world? Every time I see you my heart races and I can't wait to give you a hug and say hello.
• The dude with the Suicide Girls-style star tattoo under his left ear. It was weird...see, I frequently look around the bar to take it all in. Every time I looked this way or that from my interactions with Bang-Bang! and everyone else, neck-star-guy was always in my line of sight with that tattoo showing.
• I had a Twin Peaks moment because of him, but it passed.

Towards the end of the night I met a woman. We'll call her Rosicrucian.

She was sitting with a friend on the corner of the bar. I was all dressed and ready to go home when I saw her. I'm pretty sure I wasn't all that drunk, just buzzed.

Bang-Bang! saw me leaning against the wall opposite Swearengen near the entrance to Jack's and I don't remember telling him I was going to stay and talk to her...all I do remember is one moment I'm standing, the next I'm sitting on the bar stool with my coat off next to Rosicrucian and Bang-Bang! is sitting next to her friend and chatting her up. 

Good man, that Bang-Bang!

Son of Anarchy was on the other side of me and at one point asked me to watch his laptop. But let's be honest, I looked at it maybe once while he was gone and swear to God it was like "Whoa who is crazy enough to leave their laptop alone in a bar? Oh, it's Son of Anarchy's, shit!" because I only had eyes for Rosicrucian.

We talked about my blog and about coming to Jack's every day. She gave me permission to use her real name (not in the mood to do that, tho) and I even got her number. ;)

Here's why I like Rosicrucian:

• She volunteers at a museum here in San Jose (I've been there and that place rocks 100%).
• One of her first questions to me was, "So, what are you reading?" Ding, ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!

I told her what I was reading (Brothers: The Hidden History of the Kennedy Years - google link). Turns out she's reading Fight Club (linky).

We talked about how men just want to be aggressive for the sake of being aggressive and that's just totally fine with her. I remember looking at Bang-Bang! as he was chatting up Rosicrucian's coworker and thinking to myself I could take him if Rosicrucian asked for a reenactment from the book.

Glad she didn't ask, tho, 'cause Bang-Bang! is really a Ninja in tall Northern European man's clothing.

Last call came all too soon and Swearengen was eager to see the bar emptied and only had to holler at people like five times (thanks for the text later, Swearengen, I know you were not mad at us). I went outside with Rosicrucian and her friend, bid many people goodnight and agreed to walk Rosicrucian across the street with her friend.

I remember a smile, the rumble of an old truck engine starting up, the feel of warm skin beneath my cold hands, the soft touch of breasts against my chest and then closing my eyes at the tender touch of even softer lips. Not once, not twice, but three times.

Yes, men want to be aggressive and boy let me tell you my blood was running hot. But at that moment I didn't want to do anything to interrupt my senses as they took in the wonderful woman in my arms.

I left for home a happy man that night. It was a pleasure meeting you, Rosicrucian. You're one hell of a woman. Take care and I hope to see you again at Jack's.

Note to self: I must try harder not to abuse or otherwise run over the innocent rock at the Happi House parking lot when I go home. My bad, rock.

Day 30 - Of Wolf Moons and Mexican Jokes As Told By Latinos

I met a one legged woman. I asked her her name and she said it was Ilene. I thought "Ok" so then I asked her where she likes to eat. She told me IHOP. Damn!

Two Mexicans were drinking at the cantina and went out back to take a piss. They were going about their business when a cold wind blew through.
One guy says, "It's a little chilly."
The other guy says, "Speak for yourself, mine's a big chili."

Q. What do gay horses like to eat?
A. Haaaaaay.

-As told to me by da Vinci (Naming Conspiracy, remember?) and let me tell you da Vinci rocks.

I knew even before I walked in to Jack's Bar & Lounge tonight that mine would be a short trip. Heavy alcohol consumption wears on the soul and I just didn't feel like trading in the essence of my being for the privilege of having yet another hangover.

The wolf moon was in full effect, ducking in and out of the fast moving clouds like a headlight in the fog. A chill had settled in after sunset and I could see my breath as I walked across the street from the Happi House parking lot on 5th and Taylor to Jack's.

I saw da Vinci standing in the front yard of his neighbor's house and stopped to say hello. He introduced me to his neighbors and told me several jokes, some of which you were forced to read above. ;)

Swearengen (formerly the Godfather, Jack Black, Sean Connery and Burt Reynolds, but otherwise known as Travis) greeted me at the entrance to Jack's. We'll see you at Flames tomorrow morning, Travis.

From outside I could see that the interior walls of Jack's were bereft of paintings and artwork. Matt told me that his artwork was taken down because it was Aimee's turn to put up her work, which will be hung next Tuesday. Matt spent a good part of today patching small holes and repainting the walls.

That's something I've noticed about how Jack's is managed: they do a lot of regular upkeep and keep the bar looking new and fresh.

I don't like it when the walls are bare. Doesn't feel right. I am looking forward to what Aimee has in store, though. Her nudes are some of my favorite works. ;)

Inside the Shark's game had just ended (Shark's won!) and every seat in the house was full. I'm not sure if the crowd was into the game or not, but I did see at least one Shark's jersey. Matt returned from his break outside and poored me a beer while the DJ set up to start spinning.

Spent a lot of time out on the back patio where Dank* was working, just chilling (in the cold, haha), trying to avoid the water condensation that covered all the patio tables like a cold, wet blanket, writing notes to myself on my Blackberry and listening to three regulars smack talk about work.

Someone managed to pull around back and turn the corner at the patio fencing and park their car. I hope they don't drink too much, because backing out is going to be a bitch and that fence might take a hit or two when they try to get out.

At least the four people who exited the car were wearing so much perfume between them that it temporarily masked the scent of skunk that wafted in on the evening air as they walked around front to go inside. Made me think of a cheap Sex Panther knockoff. ;)

Dank turned on the heat lamps and I watched steam slowly curl up like cigarette smoke and evaporate into the night air as the metal lamp hoods heated up.

Dank's girlfriend Drew (Barrymore, my Naming Conspiracy co-plotter) was in attendance tonight, but she disappeared and I don't know where she went.

Back inside a crowd had started to form and I knew my time was short. I made to finish my beer when I saw a hand waving at me from the bar. I hadn't seen Gary in awhile but I sure as heck saw him tonight. His date was really beautiful and I'm glad I got to finally meet her in person. There's something about the smile of a beautiful woman that gets to me and tonight was no different.

Speaking of beautiful women: there were quite a few of them at Jack's. I like the gal who has the spiderweb tattoo on her arm (mentioned her previously in this blog, I think).

I went outside to speak with Swearengen some more, saw the bar owner slip inside to start his shift next to Matt (I really can't think of a code name for Matt --help, Drew!), checked the moon one more time and hit the road home.

See you Sunday at Jack's!

*Note: "Dank" is what this particular Jack's employee prefers to be called in the blog; thus Dank is not an actor or the name of a character from a movie -- you can find Dank spinning on Monday nights and working the door and tending bar several other days of the week.