8-17 5:20 PM Su
The Guatemalan Insanity Pepper and I are sitting at the back of the bar at the Dublin. I'm having an Irish coffee; he's having a Lite beer, a club sandwich, french fries, and potato soup. It's Happy Hour: Dollar-off drinks. The Cards and Braves are on one tv. I'm competing on the National Trivia Network on another. Might play some pool before we go. We've just come from the checking out the G.I.P.'s new house in Hawthorne. Nice enough 'hood. Well-maintained lawns. Bars and restaurants and mall and movies within walking distance. Other NTN players are starting to show. I wish I was high. I borrowed this pencil from Simon, the English-accented bartender. Footage from the early Russian space program shows on one of the tvs. The Steelers are playing the Lions on another. I finished my Irish whiskey. I feel good and jumpy now. On the bar sits a video game, the object of which is to put together a puzzle of a photo of a bare-breasted woman.
[Pencil drawing of a neon saxophone/Heinekken sign] [Pencil drawing of a neon harp/DRAUGHT GUINNESS sign] McGwire is up. I want him to crush a homer. He grounded out. I'm taking on a nerd brain-trust that comes every night and knows all the questions. But I'm right there. A handsome girl has sat with the brain trust. CUERVO GOLD UNTAMED SPIRIT. Here we go! The GIP keeps telling me wrong answers. I'm not listening to him, though. I won the last game and came in #38 in the nation, out of some fifteen thousand players, fourth-best score in the bar this month. Meh. ~~~~~I've crossed Sunset to Bar Marmont. The bartender just poured me an eight-dollar glass of wine. The cost of the wine included the fact that superstar wildman, John Belushi OD'd in the hotel here, and Jim Morrison legendarily hung from a ninth floor window. What next? I let the Gip take the car. Where to walk to? Coach and Horse? Toi? Shirelle's? Crazy Girls? Cab? If I stay here longer, if I buy another drink, will I make any valuable friendships? I'm out of cash. I'm not going to use my credit card, so--no. Time to walk. Hit the ATM across the street. This place is fuckin' snooty. I should at least ask some kind of question of somebody, some attempt at interaction beyond ordering my glass of wine. So I asked the bus boy why they put ice in the urinals. I asked him in Spanish. He said because people don't flush, the ice keeps it from smelling bad. ~~~~~From Crazy Girls on La Brea now. Waitress has a black eye. Dancer struggling to overcome boredom as she struts around the pole. Butterflies in my stomach watching.
The Guatemalan Insanity Pepper and I are sitting at the back of the bar at the Dublin. I'm having an Irish coffee; he's having a Lite beer, a club sandwich, french fries, and potato soup. It's Happy Hour: Dollar-off drinks. The Cards and Braves are on one tv. I'm competing on the National Trivia Network on another. Might play some pool before we go. We've just come from the checking out the G.I.P.'s new house in Hawthorne. Nice enough 'hood. Well-maintained lawns. Bars and restaurants and mall and movies within walking distance. Other NTN players are starting to show. I wish I was high. I borrowed this pencil from Simon, the English-accented bartender. Footage from the early Russian space program shows on one of the tvs. The Steelers are playing the Lions on another. I finished my Irish whiskey. I feel good and jumpy now. On the bar sits a video game, the object of which is to put together a puzzle of a photo of a bare-breasted woman.
[Pencil drawing of a neon saxophone/Heinekken sign] [Pencil drawing of a neon harp/DRAUGHT GUINNESS sign] McGwire is up. I want him to crush a homer. He grounded out. I'm taking on a nerd brain-trust that comes every night and knows all the questions. But I'm right there. A handsome girl has sat with the brain trust. CUERVO GOLD UNTAMED SPIRIT. Here we go! The GIP keeps telling me wrong answers. I'm not listening to him, though. I won the last game and came in #38 in the nation, out of some fifteen thousand players, fourth-best score in the bar this month. Meh. ~~~~~I've crossed Sunset to Bar Marmont. The bartender just poured me an eight-dollar glass of wine. The cost of the wine included the fact that superstar wildman, John Belushi OD'd in the hotel here, and Jim Morrison legendarily hung from a ninth floor window. What next? I let the Gip take the car. Where to walk to? Coach and Horse? Toi? Shirelle's? Crazy Girls? Cab? If I stay here longer, if I buy another drink, will I make any valuable friendships? I'm out of cash. I'm not going to use my credit card, so--no. Time to walk. Hit the ATM across the street. This place is fuckin' snooty. I should at least ask some kind of question of somebody, some attempt at interaction beyond ordering my glass of wine. So I asked the bus boy why they put ice in the urinals. I asked him in Spanish. He said because people don't flush, the ice keeps it from smelling bad. ~~~~~From Crazy Girls on La Brea now. Waitress has a black eye. Dancer struggling to overcome boredom as she struts around the pole. Butterflies in my stomach watching.
posted by johnz at 7:38 PM
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