Empty Anus, Filthy Hands

Sometimes our butts don't work the way we want them to. There can be timing issues, audio intensive issues, and of course issues involving our nasal passages. My issue revolved around timing.

So Joan and I were going to make an evening for ourselves and did a little bar hopping. Dive bar here, dive bar there, finally landing in our crawl-in-the-wall bar next door, about a mile from my place. Some wings and some drinks, some karaoke and some drinks, and the low low naughty rumble began to shake my inards. Damnit. This place is a DIVE; which I do love of course, but a crummy dive bar is not a place to have a seat and enjoy the miracle of a working gastrointestinal system. So I fought off the urge and the rumblings but I could tell this story was definitely going to have an ending in the locale we currently resided. After a decent fight I decided the battle was a loss anyhow and I trotted off to the crapper praying that I didn't return to my drink with crabs.

Bad news for Uncle Greg: The one toilet was filled with human waste of sorts, and was not flushing. Fucking gross. Really fucking gross. I'm out.

I returned to the table to a Joan who thought this situation was really really funny- and I guess it was pretty funny, funny enough that I'm writing about it hear I suppose, but at the time I was considering how much trouble I would get in if I took a crap in the corner of the bar; 'funny' wasn't really in me at the time, only turds were. Joan grabbed a bouncer and let him know that the crapper was buenoless. I did a jig in my painfu little head when I saw the man walk back to the bathrooms. Tick tock tick tock 5 more minutes and I should be able to get back to enjoying my humbling bar experience. I waited and waited and returned to the shitter once I saw the bouncer out of the can. I think perhaps I even jumped and clicked my shoes together in the air on the way. Threw open the stall door and voila! Same thing, no change, no flush.

Guuuuuuuuurgle gurrrrrgle gurgle. Time's up Greg, shit your pants or find an alternative. Point of no return has come and gone, any thought of running home real quick has now gone by. One stupid mile away and I can't make it. Time to get resourceful and fast. GROSS. I grabbed the WOODEN lid to the top of the toilet and put it on the ground. Fixed the two-part chain (half was chain half was some crazy peperclip combination that had come undone). Got on my hands and knees and got the water going again. Forced the flush with a lift of the bobber. Lid back on, did an extreme off colored disease inspection of the top of the can, ripped down the Wranglers and let 'er rip.

Back to the table and the rest of the eve was a sucess. However I did just have my hands in an awful shithole's shithole, on my hands and knees fixing a toilet full of drunk stranger's waste in a crummy part of town. Was it worth it? I'll give it a stalemate. It did resolve the issue and led to a kick ass evening, but it seriously was one of the nastier things I've ever done. Since I've been more aware of my bowel habits prior to going to nasty places. Another life lesson learned by yours truly.

Drinkin With A New One

Last evening the Bears played the Redskins and although I am not a fan of either it was a great excuse to get out and do some good old fashioned beer drinking during the week. One of my fellow employees, Mr. Ryan Beck, is a solid Bears fan and we have been talking about sharing a cold one for a while so I pounced on the opportunity. At about 9am when I first started thinking about drinking plans for the night I asked the lad if he'd like to join for the ball game. I recommended The Draft House, my local dingy funky cheap nasty slow crawl of a pub. I had forgotten that people of the normal human race aren't fans of such dives for the reasons of physical harm, emotional distraught, and disease. I like a bar where contracting an STD from your bar stool is a real possibility and I often forget that this concerns most other members of society. Ryan then recommended The Fox and Hound, a very nice sports bar down the street. His words were typed exactly like this:

RyanCras: 2 dollar pints and half off appetizers and more titties than you can throw your jizz at
RyanCras: ...and I DO throw my jizz

Recalling that I'm a sick weirdo and haven't been to a nice establishment in what could be years I obliged and continued with the day.

Here's the post work-day lineup for the game:

Me: Nuff Said.
Joan: Well seasoned and veteran drinker post 2 seperate stabs at AA
Steve: Current AA member who has burned the silly wagon down
Ryan Brannigan: Professional beer drinker and Bears fan to boot.
RYAN BECK: ?

Joan and I arrive to Ryan woofing down a dozen honey hot chicken wings and nursing a pint of brew. The game was a dull stalemate for most of the first half, and eventually Steve showed up. Beer, beer, beer, and Ryan orders a basket of soft pretzels with cheese sauce. And a diet pepsi. Unacceptable. If I am only good at one thing it is peer pressuring company into sin, and I wasn't about to have this Thursday turn into a diet cola how-was-your-day party. I arm wrestled Mr. Beck into another beer, knowing that just a couple beers force fed to our protagonist and he would crave it's sweet nectar the rest of the eve.

During the third quarter the 5th member of our party arrived, my roomate Ryan Brannigan. Now through the power of deliciousness, alcohol's firm grasp tightened as Mr. Beck watched the 4 of us drink faster and faster. The game ended with the Bears blowing it late in the fourth and I was ready to go. However my solid beer drinking compadres refused to allow me to wimp out. After all we were at a bar and bars do have all the requirements of good living and were we to leave clearly our quality of living would decrease. Time for some billiards. At this point of the night I have had a meager 6 or 7 pints. Ryan Beck looked over at me after finishing off his 6th or 7th and said "Seriously dude are you going to be at work tomorrow?" Ugh...yes of course, I've been concerned before when it's been 4:30am and I'm 46 cocktails deep, but a six pack has never kept me from anything but a better buzz. I now realized we were dealing with one of these guys that say things like 'Yeah but I'm not really much of a drinker.' Now I know it's my mission to get this poor guy plowed; luckily I didn't have to.

Beer beer beer, shot, beer. Suddently in the midst of a game Ryan Brannigan is approached by a gang of younger fraternity looking guys. "Wooooowoo any of y'all mutherfuckers drink beer real fast over here wooooh!" With the prospect of free beer Brannigan was in and joined their table. The frat dudes needed a 4th member of the team as they were one short...for a game of anhorman. Andchorman is a game in which two teams of 4 (or however many) get on either side of a long table and drink beer real fast. As soon as the player to your left drinks their beer real fast then you are allowed to start drinking your beer real fast. Finally the anchorman must drink their own beer real fast, and as soon as their beer is empty and back on the table beofre the opponent's anchorman you are winner of drinking beer real fast. I tried earlier to explain this game to my boss and he said that he too plays this game but with less rules. He calls it just drink your fuckin drink and he plays it all the time.

Outside for a smoke and the frat boys followed after a close match but Ryan's team did eek out a victory, somewhat numbing the pain of his Bear's loss. One of the frat dudes said to Ryan that he reminds him of this dude Dan he knows. Ryan said that Dan is his brother and they look very much alike and the crowd of testosterone filled strangers erupted into laughter. "Fuck yeah dude you're RYAN! DANNY'S brother!? Yo me and him fucked this girl on camera last year that dude is fuckin awesome!"

What a great introduction. Now our once simple about to drink newbie was clammoring to get involved in some anchorman action to and off he went. Let's just say that at 11 when we left there was little left of the man who's drinking skills we once questioned. Stumbling out of the bar he left us but this morning upon his arrival an hour and ten minutes late I messaged him to see how he was doing. Here was the answer:

GregCras: Did you survive the evening? How did it end for you?
RyanCras: ran 2 miles when I got home lifted some weights called my ex-girlfriend and rambled on her cell phone - no clue what I said. Then I called her ex boyfriend and best friend holly and rambled to them for an hour about how I hate the bitch and can't beleive she's doing what she's doing to me - thanks Greg

You're welcome buddy. It's what I do.