It's been a while. I'm sorry. The haze of painkillers made blogging not so easy. My leg is healing and I am able to walk on it again without aid of crutch. My doctor wants me to use a cane/walking stick for the next couple of weeks just to help me keep my balance. Hopefully by Thanksgiving I will be back to bartending.
Anyway, that's not what I came on to post about. In my boredom of not being able to go anywhere without aid of friend or taxi I have spent a lot of extra time on my computer. I caught wind of several sites and wanted to pass them on to you folks. One of the sights, "Hunters and Gatherers" consists of taking peoples manhunt profiles and ridiculing them. Another gathers pictures of idiot guys posing with pretty girls and is appropriately titled "Hot Chicks with Douchebags".
My friend Dillon clued me into another nifty little site, "Passive Aggressive Notes" which seems custom built for most every one I know. In their blog roll I found what has to be best of all of them. "The best of Craigslist" which is merely a re-posting of real craigslist postings. HYSTERICAL. I actually cried laughing when I read this one:
email this posting to a friend best of craigslist > maine > Now with even lower standards!
Originally Posted: Mon, 8 Oct 00:04 EDT
Now with even lower standards!
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Date: 2007-10-08, 12:04AM EDT
Due to shortages in men in the Greater Portland Area, the following categories of unforgivable lowlifes have been promoted to "potential relationship material" for me:
-Liars
-Cheaters
-Daily pot smokers
-My intellectual inferiors
-Dirty, smelly coffee shop poets
-Barflies
-Possessive types
-Women haters
-Men old enough to be my Dad
-My Dad
-Anyone else in my family, including the remains of my dead grandfather
-Lawyers
-People who can't spell and refuse to use spell check
-Alcoholics
-Negative, angry types
-Politicians/the criminally insane
-Smokers who pretend to be non-smokers
-Vain, self-centered artists
-Drama queens
-Guys who always get dumped and can't figure out why
-The dental-hygienically challenged
-Players
-Polygamists
-Republicans
-Anyone with that shit-eating fetish
-People who ever liked the band "Book of Love"
-Pig Fuckers
-Pink shirt wearing corporate capitalist dick heads who drive fancy cars
-Free loaders
-Your dumb friend, age 37, who still plays video games after work
-Anyone with a toupee
-The insecure
-Misers
-Humorless "business" types
-Mama's Boys
-Egomaniacs
-Sex addicts
-Poseurs
-Infantile fuckwits who blame everyone else for their problems
-Narcissists
-Bad kissers
-The fiscally irresponsible
-Underachieving slacker dudes
-Anyone in any kind of tribute band
Hope to hear from you soon!
Personally my favorite was "misers".
Which brings me to an e-mail I received last week from friend David Jack. It's a posting from the "missed connections" section of Houston Craigslist.
Harris County Jail- Friday night - m4m - 21
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Reply to: pers-469344041@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-11-05, 7:16AM CST
Dude , you were in front of me in the changing line. I saw you checking out my package the second I took my pants off. I glanced down and yours and dude I have never seen another dude with a cockhead as big as yours. You were probably latin/mexican because of your dark features. Prob 6'1 , 180 , dark hair , thick thick hairy bush. Me , white dude, 6'0 , 170 , white dude/ athletic/ smooth body , hairy bush/ legs. Later when I was about to get released and were in the holding cell when I went to take a piss i noticed you moved to the far wall and were watching me piss. I pulled my pants down more and let my sac hang out for you to see. Hey bro i'm a straight dude but watching you chub through your pants was kinda hot. Bro If you get out and see this hit me up. I have a 3 week load I need to work on. Hit me up dude
Prison has been a recurring theme for me in the last week after I had a very odd experience at work. Over the last seven years of working on Bourbon street I have been asked some odd questions. I hear everything ranging from "Where is Bourbon Street?" to "Hey if we show you our tits can we get free drinks?" (Pointing out that our bar is a gay bar does no good. Drunk women are almost all under the impression that their breasts are a currency that work on any man.) Early last Monday night two thuggish young men stopped by my little sugar shack to quiz me about the music upstairs. They seemed familiar but I couldn't quite place them. One boy was tall, muscular, sideways hat. He was thug hot. The kind of hot that says "I think you might rob or kill me but it's almost worth the risk." The other was smaller and he seemed to be the brains behind the operation. Both were wearing the standard thug uniform of loose, baggy clothing and a respectable amount of varying tattoos. I couldn't really give them much information about the music but they seemed happy enough with my answers and headed upstairs. When the show started they came back down and began what was the oddest conversation in which I think I've ever been involved. Questions were piling up - Was I a top? Was I straight up G[ay] or did I like a little pussy? How big was I? Did I like tina? Could I get them a free drink? Did I want to see the taller boys penis? (I admit a certain curiosity here, especially when he laid claim to being 10 1/2 inches but errored on the side of not encouraging this scenario) Where did I live? - While tattoos were displayed, the relationship between them explained (they are brothers) I suddenly remembered where I had seen them before. Several months back they were involved in a huge fight outside with two other guys during which one of them ( I think the smaller one) got the shit kicked out of him. I thought they went to jail that night but they claimed they didn't. They told me they had done some time in Florida for assault. The only consistencies were the inconsistencies. Names were changed mid conversation (at one point one introduced the other as 'Hollywood') and the patter of questions finally led to what has to be the strangest thing I've ever been asked:
"Have you ever been prison fucked?"
As much as I wanted to know what this entailed I couldn't quite bring myself to ask. There were a few more questions, a half hearted invitation to have coffee with them and the taller of the two said "and you know what comes after the coffee, huh, yeah the whole kit and kaboodle" along with a few hip thrusting motions. All I could picture at this point was the scene from American History X when Edward Norton is attacked by his former buddies. They left shortly thereafter (taking my bottled water with them). They left a phone number...any of y'all interested?
I told one of our security people this story the next day and they told me that both of those boys were banned from the bar.
It's been a week of oddities at my work. Last Sunday I was watching a drunken scene play itself out by the side door. A very drunk girl and boy were considering whether or not they could ride their motorcyle home. I think if they had they would probably have made it about 10 feet before one of them fell off. While watching this I noticed all our balloons (which are tied to the balcony poles) coming loose and flying away. They were quickly followed by a pair of feet and then the rest of the body of my friend T. He slid down the balcony pole to go over and stop these two from getting on their bike and riding away. The two were dis-suaded from riding until they were a little more sober. It's not like I've never seen anyone slide down our pole before but it doesn't happen often so it's noteable when it occurs. Friday night was better. A man on the balcony was accused of pick-pocketing (and by accused I mean the person he pick-pocketed was attempting to restrain him until security/cops could be summoned) and in his attempt to get away he leapt from our balcony. Seriously, he leapt off the balcony and landed on his back on St. Ann Street. Seemingly unscathed he got up and hobbled off from an apparent leg injury. The cops caught up with him a few blocks later but the would be victim chose not to press charges, citing the broken ankle as punishment enough. This Sunday I was sitting in my little candy land and watched two guys attempt to climb UP the balcony poles. I'm not sure what the point was, we weren't charging a cover to get upstairs, they could have simply walked up there. I guess the line from 'Postcards from the Edge' really is true; Instant gratification takes too long.
On that note of instant gratification it's time for me to eat before returning to my little land of treacle tarts.
