Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Cookies from The Rock
I'm quickly realising that I may in fact never accomplish a night more legendary than my obama/thieving latina stripper story, but I am unafraid of trying to. I think it was either Buzz Aldrin or my grandmother that said "if you shoot for the moon, you can still fall amongst the stars." Yeah, ANYWAYS.
6 PM
It was exactly a week to the second after my night of glory when I had just finished my last day as an intern doing online marketing for this group that owns a bunch of websites. My boss wanted to take me out for several after work drinks as a way of saying thanks. We wound up on Embarcadero right underneath the Bay Bridge at the Hi Dive bar. Shitty from the outside, GOLD MINE on the inside. I end up telling her the story which she is shocked/surprised/dying laughing after I told her. We were soon joined by some other co-workers and I was (forced) to re-tell the story once more. Not that I got a problem doing that, it just takes a while to tell.
7:30 PM Richard the Lionheart Arrives aka the Cavalry
Although I am enjoying the company of my co-workers buying me rounds, I am greeted by the one and only Richard the Lionheart. The king of the SOMA Jungle, he strode into the bar with a swagger that only those of the blessed town/warzone of Haverhill, MA have. He has just finished being top boss in his sales group and is now content to drink some brews with another SAC expatriate.
Before long Richard the Lionheart is conversing and downing brews with the rest of us. All is well, yet I am sensing my co-workers are going to bounce and leave Butch and Sundance to their own devices. Confirming this would be the shot of Fernet that my co-worker Dip-set made me do.
This shot is like the most foul of any shot I have ever taken. I've only had it once or twice before, as it is a company tradition, but seriously this thing sucks. Imagine a shot that combined the taste of dirt, vinegar and dog shit. This is what Fernet tastes like. If you ever want to make somebody immediately forget where they are/who they are/any other desire than to get rid of the taste in said mouth. This is the shot for them.
8:30 PM Richard the Lionheart and I take to the streets
After some confusion, my boss drops me and the Lionheart at least 2 blocks towards our destination with like, 8 blocks to go. I am still reeling from the fernet shot and bud heavies but I am still good. In fact I have the comfort of Jim Beam to get me to the next bar with the King of SOMA. He declines participation in the weird juice as he has to work the next day. We continue our journey.
9:20 We arrive
We arrive at the Red Jack Saloon, a Boston bar complete with a mock up fenway park in the back area. We enjoy the comforts of watching the ALCS game as other Massholes in the bar look on in disgust at the Yankee victory.
However the most important person in the bar in my mind at this point is that of 83 year old, former Alcatraz inmate, man with only 8 fingers, Darwin Coons:
Darwin, a local legend, is one of the last surviving inmates of The Rock. He also is a regular at the Red Jack. A few sundays earlier, Richard the Lionheart was elbowed by Darwin for entering his zone, while trying to get a beer. Being the peacemaker that I am, I demanded that I buy Darwin and Richar the Lionheart their next rounds...and announced it to a very uninterested bar crowd.
10:30ish Jim Beam is kicking in and I am turning into this:
I've been frequenting the bathroom to take more shots of Jim Beam and the weirdness is flowing through my body. I play several very uncalled for songs on the digital jukebox that also helps empty out the bar. It is as this point that Darwin, enamored by my gratuity and search for peace, offers me some of his cookies that he made. I am quite taken aback as I don't realize/believe that they are in fact weed cookies. I eat one thinking nothing of it. Within another five minutes I eat the other.
11ish Richard the Lionheart leaves and the Crusade for USF begins.
I don't quite remember leaving the Red Jack Saloon, but I knew I had to take a muni car to the campus where my good buddy lives. I planned on taking a MUNI but was too drunk and took a very expensive cab.
11:01
Blackout wackout
11:45 or so
I find myself in a cab headed towards USF. I watch as my cab driver is at a red light connecting my iPod to the stereo system. I am too/high drunk to ask what he's doing. He puts this remix/mashup on:
"Party in the USA ft. BIGGIE SMALLS," which immediately sort of wakes me up and I proceed to pay him extra to play it on repeat till we get there.
After the 4th time repeated my cabbie turns angry and drops me off a block before my buddies place.
I have arrived.
12 MIDNIGHT
I stumble into the party, recognizing absolutely no one. Finally, I see my boy Mompoint who immediately bursts out laughing at how out of it I am. I didn't tell him I was coming nor Allen and Jay seemed to forget as well. So their surprises were pretty priceless, like utter confusion on many levels.
12:30 I think?
I am making great first impressions left and right, the room is spinning and the Miley remix is just jamming in my head. I am quite high now as opposed to being drunk and am making I'm guessing horrible first impressions. Whatever, Biggie is laying down tracks in my head.
1 AM or so
I've re-entered the blackout, this time for good.
8:30 AM
Jay wakes me up and consciously I still feel like I just got there. I cannot find my wallet, shoes, phone, bag anything. I passed out in a chair, surprisingly not getting written on.
We look around for several minutes finding just my phone and wallet, nothing else and I am forced to wear a pair of slippers on the bus ride back through San Fran and eventually the train ride home.
You may have won this round San Francisco, but the score is now tied 1-1...and halloween is this Saturday. Hold on to your dick, because I'll be back.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
The Greatest/Scariest Night of all time
What does Barack Obama, Latina Strippers, and mobs of homeless guys have in common?
Absolutely nothing, but they were all integral characters in the Shakesperean drama that took place in my life this past Thursday night in San Francisco (The Real City of Getting Weird).
We'll start the timeline at 5:00 PM.
I just left work and am walking about 2 miles back through the financial district of San Fran towards the train station to go back home to beloved San Jose, an hour away. Upon arriving to the train station area in South Market, I'm finding numerous streets are blocked off, with cops everywhere. Whatever. The train I'm looking to take doesn't leave for an hour so I call up "Mr. Monterey" and "The Lovable Liability" for some post-work brews.
6:30 PM
After leaving the dynamic duo's place we head to The Chieftan, a bar on one of the closed off streets. Upon arriving at said pub, we find out from one of the cops that Barry Obama is speaking several blocks over. We're kind of down with that and enter the pub.
8:00
After downing numerous PBR's we attempt to leave the bar, however upon trying to exit the bar we are stopped forcefully by a SFPD officer who ordered us to stay in the bar. Repeat, stay in the bar. The "lovable liability" lamented "The Humanity!" and we reentered the bar for more brews.
10-ish
I am half way to the danger zone on the BAC scale. Liability leaves to go to home while Mr. Monterey and I decide that a visit to the promised land of North Beach, the crown jewel of debauchery in the city, is the only way to continue the night.
11 or so
With the help of homeless man Big Mack (pictured above) we finally get a cab to North Beach and enter some strip club. We pick up a third musketeer in Kieran the Irish dude, who helps us enter for less money and helps with drinks, life is good. Even better, the owner is from Brockton, Mass. Ahh, a Masshole.
1230/1-ish
We've had a lot to drink and my companion keeps getting the drinks. Money grabbing strippers keeping making passes at us but I explain I am more broke the CitiBank, yet they seem to stick around and enjoy our company because we are the only guys younger than 40 in the place that night. Shots are consumed and then the point of no return happened. It comes out that I just graduated from college and my buddy is taking me out. Hungry eyes dart my way...
I am dragged by two blondes to the private area, where hands search me lower extremeties and it is explained that "tonight only" there is a deal for college grads on tag-team private show...$300. As much as I am enticed, I explained they have to run it by my buddy, who upon hearing said request, told them to royally fuck off. Blonde one leaves, but latina blonde sticks around because I am making her laugh. She encourages me to stick around as she is on stage next. I oblige and she comes out to Shakira's "She Wolf." Magic happens.
I immediately fall in love and throw what remaining dollars I have on the stage. I finally answered my long pondered question:
After her dance we saddle up at the bar to chat. My jokes are not that funny, as you all know, yet she keeps laughing. I keep reiterating that i have little to no money yet the Masshole owner keeps comping me Coor's Lights. Mr. Monterey has had his fill and wants to leave, I demand to stay and talk to my Shakira look-a-like "Anita" (if that is even her name). Monterey gives me 10 bucks and says, "you know the way to my place," and leaves. I continue chatting away with "Anita" who then says she has to dance one more time and asks if I would like to "grab a slurpee or something" when she gets off her shift in 30 minutes. I am speechless. This stripper totally understands what an absolute dog I am and she DIGS it.
2:30 AM/The Strip Club is closed
I meet "Anita" in the lobby where she is decked out in a Pink Velour track suit. The outfit screams look at me, so naturally as I walk with her to some 24 convenience store, every asshole getting out of the bars is sizing me up. Anita seems not to notice or care and happily asks me about myself and laughs at random shit I'm saying. I'm without question in Narnia.
We grab some month old tacquito's and fake slurpees from Su Hong's 24 hour joint. Anita then says that she appreciates me walking her home, as her apartment is just a block or two away. I say it was my pleasure, to which she asks where I'm staying tonight. I answer with my buddy in South Market (legit 30-40 blocks away). This shocks Anita who says that that's "too dangerous to walk," and offers to let me stay on the couch as long as I get up in the morning, because she has class. Apparently she's a student at U of SF and needs to pay the bills. Tuition really is a bitch.
Upon arriving upstairs, my head (both of them) is spinning as she offers me another beer and I sit on the couch and tell her about I don't even remember. After about 5 minutes of this she stops laughing and just stares at me, deadlocked. I continue talking like an idiot. Finally she gets up, walks over to me, and lifts my chin and lays a big ole smackeroo on the lips. Stunned/Drunk I ask if we can be Facebook friends. She laughs and ushers me into her bedroom closing the door behind us.
After fooling around for a little while and getting off one shot at the death star, I am gearing up for round 2 when all of a sudden I hear a man shout her name and pound at the apartment door. I am completely confused. Man then enters the apartment and starts pounding on the bedroom door (thankfully locked), screaming "WHO THE FUCK IS IN THERE?!"
I pee a little bit as Anita hands me my wallet, shoes and pants explaining that i need to get out fast. I ask where, to which she points to her window (mind you 3 floors up) to the emergency exit stairway on the outside of the building. I bolt towards the window and climb down to the alley way, still the hearing angry boyfriend/pimp upstairs screaming at my boo. Now fully dressed and several blocks away, I attempt to hail a cab to get the fuck out of dodge. However upon opening my wallet, I find that my remaining cash perhaps 20 bucks is gone. Absolutely gone. It appears Anita ganked my remaining cash to add insult to injury. Forget that facebook request/poke Anita. Now I began the long trek back to GI JOE Headquarters, no money, wearing preppy work clothes, with a backpack in the middle of the gheto, at night. To say I was a mugging target is an understatement. Truly a lamb amongst the wolves.
3:30 AM
I am halfway to home and am getting harassed by every night creature, selling themselves, drugs, baloons, dreams and candy at every block. I need to get the fuck outta here.
4:30 AM
Finally I enter the green zone of the surrounding blocks where Obama is staying and near my buddy's place. There is literally cops on every corner, I finally feel safe. The events of the night are still being replayed in my head, so I decide to ask the cop if said story is commonplace. I repeat my story, to much laughter and he asks if my credit card was stolen. No. ID? No, not that either. How much money she take from you? Ahh 12 bucks or so officer? Cop starts dying laughing and cannot believe I banged a stripper for 12 bucks. Turns out it's common place that these vixens of notcurnal thievery will invite clients back to their place, start the raindance, then mid-coitus will have a pimp or boyfriend enter and try to "beat up" the client. While panicking, the stripper will steal said items, then help the client get out. Often times this leads to identity theft, credit card fraud and many other things. However, I banged a stripper for a Hamilton and two Washingtons. The Cop radios in a few other guys over (Presidential security could wait) to hear the story. I tell it again and they are doubled over. Especially the fact that I bought her tacquitos at 2 AM. One officer asks what's my name. BLYNCH, Sir. BLYNCH.
4:40 AM After the laughter died down, Officer Anderson (the original cop) asks how many blocks I need to go to my buddies. 3 down, 3 over I answer. He radios that he is escorting "person of interest" out of the area. I say farewell to the other boys in blue and continue walking.
4:41 AM We arrive at the next block where I am greeted by two cops clapping towards me.
4:45 AM
Next block again two more officers giving me thumbs, and one "YTM" comment. I'm drunk and confused.
4:47 AM
By the time we get to the third block and I am greeted with "BEST 12 DOLLARS EVER SPENT!" comment, I realize that Officer Anderson had put me on the police bandwith for the area when I retold the story to the other officers. All the SFPD officers in the a 12 block radius heard my story. The San Francisco Police Department definitely came out of the bullpen and picked up the save.
10:24 AM
I wake up
10:25 AM
I throw up in the bathroom.
11:00 AM
I somehow manage to make my way home on the train back to San Jose without paying. Leaving the city and my starcrossed lover Anita behind, I knew that this had been the greatest night of my life, that the Capital of the Weirdness Universe was San Francisco...and that I would return again very soon.
Absolutely nothing, but they were all integral characters in the Shakesperean drama that took place in my life this past Thursday night in San Francisco (The Real City of Getting Weird).
We'll start the timeline at 5:00 PM.
I just left work and am walking about 2 miles back through the financial district of San Fran towards the train station to go back home to beloved San Jose, an hour away. Upon arriving to the train station area in South Market, I'm finding numerous streets are blocked off, with cops everywhere. Whatever. The train I'm looking to take doesn't leave for an hour so I call up "Mr. Monterey" and "The Lovable Liability" for some post-work brews.
6:30 PM
After leaving the dynamic duo's place we head to The Chieftan, a bar on one of the closed off streets. Upon arriving at said pub, we find out from one of the cops that Barry Obama is speaking several blocks over. We're kind of down with that and enter the pub.
8:00
After downing numerous PBR's we attempt to leave the bar, however upon trying to exit the bar we are stopped forcefully by a SFPD officer who ordered us to stay in the bar. Repeat, stay in the bar. The "lovable liability" lamented "The Humanity!" and we reentered the bar for more brews.
10-ish
I am half way to the danger zone on the BAC scale. Liability leaves to go to home while Mr. Monterey and I decide that a visit to the promised land of North Beach, the crown jewel of debauchery in the city, is the only way to continue the night.
11 or so
With the help of homeless man Big Mack (pictured above) we finally get a cab to North Beach and enter some strip club. We pick up a third musketeer in Kieran the Irish dude, who helps us enter for less money and helps with drinks, life is good. Even better, the owner is from Brockton, Mass. Ahh, a Masshole.
1230/1-ish
We've had a lot to drink and my companion keeps getting the drinks. Money grabbing strippers keeping making passes at us but I explain I am more broke the CitiBank, yet they seem to stick around and enjoy our company because we are the only guys younger than 40 in the place that night. Shots are consumed and then the point of no return happened. It comes out that I just graduated from college and my buddy is taking me out. Hungry eyes dart my way...
I am dragged by two blondes to the private area, where hands search me lower extremeties and it is explained that "tonight only" there is a deal for college grads on tag-team private show...$300. As much as I am enticed, I explained they have to run it by my buddy, who upon hearing said request, told them to royally fuck off. Blonde one leaves, but latina blonde sticks around because I am making her laugh. She encourages me to stick around as she is on stage next. I oblige and she comes out to Shakira's "She Wolf." Magic happens.
I immediately fall in love and throw what remaining dollars I have on the stage. I finally answered my long pondered question:
After her dance we saddle up at the bar to chat. My jokes are not that funny, as you all know, yet she keeps laughing. I keep reiterating that i have little to no money yet the Masshole owner keeps comping me Coor's Lights. Mr. Monterey has had his fill and wants to leave, I demand to stay and talk to my Shakira look-a-like "Anita" (if that is even her name). Monterey gives me 10 bucks and says, "you know the way to my place," and leaves. I continue chatting away with "Anita" who then says she has to dance one more time and asks if I would like to "grab a slurpee or something" when she gets off her shift in 30 minutes. I am speechless. This stripper totally understands what an absolute dog I am and she DIGS it.
2:30 AM/The Strip Club is closed
I meet "Anita" in the lobby where she is decked out in a Pink Velour track suit. The outfit screams look at me, so naturally as I walk with her to some 24 convenience store, every asshole getting out of the bars is sizing me up. Anita seems not to notice or care and happily asks me about myself and laughs at random shit I'm saying. I'm without question in Narnia.
We grab some month old tacquito's and fake slurpees from Su Hong's 24 hour joint. Anita then says that she appreciates me walking her home, as her apartment is just a block or two away. I say it was my pleasure, to which she asks where I'm staying tonight. I answer with my buddy in South Market (legit 30-40 blocks away). This shocks Anita who says that that's "too dangerous to walk," and offers to let me stay on the couch as long as I get up in the morning, because she has class. Apparently she's a student at U of SF and needs to pay the bills. Tuition really is a bitch.
Upon arriving upstairs, my head (both of them) is spinning as she offers me another beer and I sit on the couch and tell her about I don't even remember. After about 5 minutes of this she stops laughing and just stares at me, deadlocked. I continue talking like an idiot. Finally she gets up, walks over to me, and lifts my chin and lays a big ole smackeroo on the lips. Stunned/Drunk I ask if we can be Facebook friends. She laughs and ushers me into her bedroom closing the door behind us.
After fooling around for a little while and getting off one shot at the death star, I am gearing up for round 2 when all of a sudden I hear a man shout her name and pound at the apartment door. I am completely confused. Man then enters the apartment and starts pounding on the bedroom door (thankfully locked), screaming "WHO THE FUCK IS IN THERE?!"
I pee a little bit as Anita hands me my wallet, shoes and pants explaining that i need to get out fast. I ask where, to which she points to her window (mind you 3 floors up) to the emergency exit stairway on the outside of the building. I bolt towards the window and climb down to the alley way, still the hearing angry boyfriend/pimp upstairs screaming at my boo. Now fully dressed and several blocks away, I attempt to hail a cab to get the fuck out of dodge. However upon opening my wallet, I find that my remaining cash perhaps 20 bucks is gone. Absolutely gone. It appears Anita ganked my remaining cash to add insult to injury. Forget that facebook request/poke Anita. Now I began the long trek back to GI JOE Headquarters, no money, wearing preppy work clothes, with a backpack in the middle of the gheto, at night. To say I was a mugging target is an understatement. Truly a lamb amongst the wolves.
3:30 AM
I am halfway to home and am getting harassed by every night creature, selling themselves, drugs, baloons, dreams and candy at every block. I need to get the fuck outta here.
4:30 AM
Finally I enter the green zone of the surrounding blocks where Obama is staying and near my buddy's place. There is literally cops on every corner, I finally feel safe. The events of the night are still being replayed in my head, so I decide to ask the cop if said story is commonplace. I repeat my story, to much laughter and he asks if my credit card was stolen. No. ID? No, not that either. How much money she take from you? Ahh 12 bucks or so officer? Cop starts dying laughing and cannot believe I banged a stripper for 12 bucks. Turns out it's common place that these vixens of notcurnal thievery will invite clients back to their place, start the raindance, then mid-coitus will have a pimp or boyfriend enter and try to "beat up" the client. While panicking, the stripper will steal said items, then help the client get out. Often times this leads to identity theft, credit card fraud and many other things. However, I banged a stripper for a Hamilton and two Washingtons. The Cop radios in a few other guys over (Presidential security could wait) to hear the story. I tell it again and they are doubled over. Especially the fact that I bought her tacquitos at 2 AM. One officer asks what's my name. BLYNCH, Sir. BLYNCH.
4:40 AM After the laughter died down, Officer Anderson (the original cop) asks how many blocks I need to go to my buddies. 3 down, 3 over I answer. He radios that he is escorting "person of interest" out of the area. I say farewell to the other boys in blue and continue walking.
4:41 AM We arrive at the next block where I am greeted by two cops clapping towards me.
4:45 AM
Next block again two more officers giving me thumbs, and one "YTM" comment. I'm drunk and confused.
4:47 AM
By the time we get to the third block and I am greeted with "BEST 12 DOLLARS EVER SPENT!" comment, I realize that Officer Anderson had put me on the police bandwith for the area when I retold the story to the other officers. All the SFPD officers in the a 12 block radius heard my story. The San Francisco Police Department definitely came out of the bullpen and picked up the save.
10:24 AM
I wake up
10:25 AM
I throw up in the bathroom.
11:00 AM
I somehow manage to make my way home on the train back to San Jose without paying. Leaving the city and my starcrossed lover Anita behind, I knew that this had been the greatest night of my life, that the Capital of the Weirdness Universe was San Francisco...and that I would return again very soon.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Flagship Post, long live the creep!
After many months of putting this off, the suggestion of many many others, and the absolute boringness of semi-employment, I have finally created my blog.
The only reason I am doing this is because I have gotten sick and tired of having to rehash stories of stuff that happens to me/stuff i did/or just funny stuff I've encountered through e-mail, AIM, Facebook, texts and Phone calls to all you people. It's too time consuming. Now I can just write these down on the blog and just tell you to check out the post. It will also allow me the opportunity to post older/more famous stories that some of you have all come to know and love.
I will keep this stuff all very light-hearted and the names out of it (to protect this innocent unless they are not so innocent.) Instead I will be changing the names to call signs/nicknames that if you really really know these people, you will be able to figure it out. I'll be touching on sports and stuff that pisses me off, but mostly funny stuff that happens when people get weird out at night. I'll be making a fan page on facebook, so be on the lookout for that as well.
I'll eventually move to a password because of employers and parents, but if ya know me it will be easy to figure out.
Will be posting the first story soon, until then, long live the CREEP! YOU ARE MINE NOW!!!
The only reason I am doing this is because I have gotten sick and tired of having to rehash stories of stuff that happens to me/stuff i did/or just funny stuff I've encountered through e-mail, AIM, Facebook, texts and Phone calls to all you people. It's too time consuming. Now I can just write these down on the blog and just tell you to check out the post. It will also allow me the opportunity to post older/more famous stories that some of you have all come to know and love.
I will keep this stuff all very light-hearted and the names out of it (to protect this innocent unless they are not so innocent.) Instead I will be changing the names to call signs/nicknames that if you really really know these people, you will be able to figure it out. I'll be touching on sports and stuff that pisses me off, but mostly funny stuff that happens when people get weird out at night. I'll be making a fan page on facebook, so be on the lookout for that as well.
I'll eventually move to a password because of employers and parents, but if ya know me it will be easy to figure out.
Will be posting the first story soon, until then, long live the CREEP! YOU ARE MINE NOW!!!
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