Thursday, September 30, 2010


Losers Keep Winning

Friday, as you may have read, I ate an ugly sandwich. Man, that didn't feel too good.
Later in the evening, I went to Red Robin for drinks with oddjobs from work. Nothing eventful there.
Even later, I headed back to Seattle and fought a good hour of traffic. Josh ditched out, but Chris was well on his way.
I think Chris is hitting a learning threshold as he didn't call me nine times on his way over.
Once home, Chris bitched about parking and we drank a beer or two.
Then, it was onto the Great Nabob for pool and drinks – or so we thought. The pool tables were taken over.
So, Chris ordered a sandwich and I, some beer. Chris' sandwich came with weeds and dressing and I made him eat every bite of it. Simply telling Chris that he can't digest anything but trans-fats will make him eat the most heinous of plant life. I cringed as I watched him devour endive, or whatever, soaked in vinegar.
After that, we left for the concert. The concert promised:
The drummer from Jane's Addiction
The guitarist from Porno for Pyros
The guy from Candlebox.
Surprisingly, it was a good concert.
We ran into some old school dope dealer from high school and chatted a bit. My drink was NOT on. By 11, I couldn't drink anything more without making vomiting faces.
After the concert, we went to Dick's.
Now, we cabbed it, like good drunks, and we had two distinct conversations with two different cab drivers.
The one on the way to the concert told us that many women invite them in to commit savage sexual acts on them. Also, some guy once gave a cabby 100 bucks to plug his wife. The surprise occurred when the voyeuristic man finished himself on the poor cabby's back.
So, if you are with a girl, it might be important to ask her what the chances are she'll ever screw a cabby just for the hell of it. I think this is important, because some guys might not like the idea that their girlfriend is tonsil deep on some cabby's cock.
On the way home, the second cab driver asked us about the concert. Chris told the man that we saw some Caribbean band and that they gave him a drum stick.
Now, the first part of that is a bald-faced lie. There was no Caribbean band. Chris was feebly trying to fuck with the cab operator.
Now, the drum stick part was kinda true. Stephen Perkins (jane's addiction) threw the drum stick at Chris. Now, if this was to give Chris a memento or if it was to injure Chris' fat-fuck face, I don't know. Later, Chris had it signed in my presence. So, that's three up close celebrity sightings: Stephen Perkins, John Curley, and Dave Reichert – in just three weeks!
Christ, I'm such a loser that my celebrity sightings suck.
Forward motion.
"Yeah, the lead singer (of the make-believe Caribbean band) was named Jack Meeeeeehoooff." Chris found this amusing. I, however, felt sorry for the cabby. Not because Chris was making fun of his lack of skepticism, but because he had to tolerate Chris thinking he had gotten one over on him.
It really sucks when the brain dead think they are making an ass out of you, but you know better, but are just too polite to say "Hey, fuck face, eat a bowl of dicks."
But, it doesn't matter.
None of this matters.
What does is that when the cabby dropped us off at Dick's for burgers, he said there was no need to write in a tip for my credit charge.
In my drunk stupor, I didn’t question this and just thought the cabby was trying to be nice.
Now, why I would think he'd be nice to me after Chris was acting like a three-year old, I don't know.
What I do know, now, is that I may have ended up letting the cabby tip himself hundreds of dollars.
So, Chris is an idiot and I'm probably broke.
At Dick's, Chris ordered burgers and I stood outside and smoked.
A security guard was posted at the Queen Anne Dick's to assure patrons that the restaurant was closed at 2.
This went on, the guard turning away would-be burger eaters, and suddenly the guard went into Stallone mode and jammed up the street.
It seemed a couple of women had gotten in a fight while exiting a nearby bar.
A couple to my right really lucked out with the fact that the guard took off. This is because, seconds after, the female component of the couple collapsed on a bench.
Now, I can only guess OD, considering that the male component had to carry her, ala Sleeping Beauty, to the lineup for cabs.
I offered assistance, that I probably wouldn't have been able to provide, but they shooed me away.
Chris emerged and we walked back to my place, passing a guy on the street (the boyfriend of the beat up girl) as he held his stomach and moaned. The girl was explaining to the security guard and other policemen that the other girl hit her and that she was just protecting herself. "It's not fair! It's not fair! Ask my boyfriend, he's right over there!" I followed the cop's glance to the boyfriend, who must have been hit as well. He was still on his knees, moaning incoherently. It seemed everyone lost that night.
I'm just waiting on my bank statement to tell me how much.
At home, I cracked a beer, chris went to bed and I turned on "I Love Lucy."
I thought about discharging the air from Chris' blow-up bed and give him a taste of my hard carpet, but it was late.
After the beer, I devoured a cold burger and fries that tasted like oh, so much ass.
So, let's tally it.

Victims of Friday:

Anybody whose wife is being pole'd by a cabby right now
Cabby 2
Heroin addict
Pussy boyfriend
Incredulous girlfriend

Cab drivers everywhere schtooping our wives
Super Security Guy

Once again, life is not fair and the losers are the heroes and vise versa.

P. Doodly

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