Short Stay

I ended up stopping in last night after all. Shelly was working, breaking in a new bartender. Nice kid. Familiar with1762 and its characters since she plays for the dart team.

Despite the broken AC, the temp inside the bar was comfortable. Both doors were open, fans a-blowin'. Lots of blow[in] going on from the looks of the runny noses and white residue in the dried mucus. Whatever. Not my problem.

The bright spot, at least for me, was having a perfect Big Buck Hunter Pro game. I nailed all 45 bighorn's and amassed a score of over 28K points. Hooray for me. I have noticed that one of the younger patrons, goes by "ANT", has been challenging my dominance of the game. I will have to stay sharp. I have definitely noticed that I am wasting $$$ if I play the game after more than 2-3 drinks. Definitely have the best reaction time when sober.

Here's a challenge! Beat me ANT! 15 perfect sites. Perfect streak to match...Hehehe I am such a kid.

In other gaming action, the golf game has been replaced by a bowling game. Shelly had something like 19 of the top 20 scores, and was second only to "ERL". I'll let you figure out who that is. Anyway, four of us played against each other. Me, The Met Fan, Shelly, and our other resident biker, Jon. I had played this game once before. Not wild about the controls, or lack of it. Jon and Met had never played before. And obviously, Shelly has some experience. When all was said and done, Jon took the high score on his maiden voyage, which apparently pissed Shelly off. Definitely a good 1762 moment. And it was appreciated as they have been far and few between.

The Limpin' Pimp made an appearance. He did his usual, let me buy the bar a drink thing. I declined because this guy is probably the littlest weasel and biggest scumbag I have met at 1762. Eff him. And his fucking money. And his fucking heroin. And his fucking arsenal of guns. And his fucking limp on his gangrene infested hoof. Wikipedia sleaze and there he is. Ready to hook your sister/daughter on junk for his own perversions. The story of Herrin, one of his heroin slaves from the Far East, I will save for another day.

Whilst at the bar I conversed with Croc via text message. Apparently he has been fired.

So, with the appearance of Gin, the new bartender, we can reduce the total number of hours per week for Shelly. The hour total stood at a whopping 95 hours. Gin is taking Tuesday day shift. So now Shelly is left with a paltry 87 hours per week, and still no days off.

Dog Fighting and Ass Grabbing

Monday Night Football preseason game was a Superbowl XLI rematch. The ongoing saga of the Michael Vick dogfighting got more air time during the broadcast than the game did. Seemed that way anyway. So a conversation starts up among me, Croc, and Cokehead Fred.

Cokehead Fred is not a regular at the bar. I have seen him in here a couple of times. Not such a pleasant guy. Very intense. Must be the coke. Has a kind of reptilian look about him. Like he would eat babies. His own even. During the course of the night he will disappear for ten minutes at a clip, come back to the bar, nose will start running shortly thereafter.

So we are in disagreement over whether or not the NFL will take Vick back after he takes the plea to the dogfighting charges next week. Croc and I say,"No Way!", Fred disagrees. He thinks Vick is too big a crowd draw. My opinion is he will alienate more fans than he will bring in if allowed back into the NFL. Croc says that the NFL commissioner, Goodell, will not take him back, especially so early in his tenure.

While the game is going on into the mid 4th quarter, Hector and Ellie, a couple of regs come in. We all know each other, greetings are exchanged. For clarity's sake, Hector and Ellie are a "couple", and all parties present were aware of that fact. Between fifteen and twenty minutes later I hear Ellie yelling my name from behind me. I turn and Hector and Fred are about to mix it up. I get in the middle, Ellie is already trying to hold back Hector, so I hold back Fred.

Croc ran over to Hector and Ellie to try to sort things out. Cokehead Fred had the audacity to slap Ellie's ass, which was bad enough, but he did it right in front of Hector. And then wanted to be right about it. To quote Dave Chappelle, quoting Rick James, "Cocaine is a helluva drug!"

Hector tried to give Fred an out by telling him that he was out of line and that if he ever did it again, he would beat his ass. Instead of eating the humble pie, Fred retorts, "I don't know why you're making such a big deal about it."

So while I am holding back Fred, I am telling him that there is no fucking way he is right in this. And that if he slapped my wife's ass I'd react same as Hector. And Croc echoes the sentiment.

When Fred somewhat comes to his senses he starts yelling over to Hector that they are friends and he is sorry. Too little, too late seems to be the running theme at 1762 Broadway these days. Fred is instructed to finish his beer and to leave. Which he did. It was the best move he made all night.

I am getting sick of people who do what they want to do, when they want to do it, without showing respect for anyone and then saying they are sorry afterwards. When we apologize, it should be for something we did by accident, or for doing something without realizing the implications of our acts while engaged in them. I'm sorry doesn't mean shit if you are saying it because you got caught. Or acted in a way that is not socially acceptable, like a fucking Neanderthal.

Like Fred's apology to Hector and Ellie, when Michael Vick makes his public apology for his part in the dogfighting operation, it won't mean shit to me. I hope the NFL is with me on this.