Life at TJ's Place
Saturday, April 24, 2004
These are some old friend bloggers I had wanted to add for a long time, but I'm lazy and stupid. I'll add more as I go and try to make it look a little better.
I will be attempting to add and modify a links section for the next few minutes...or hours. It will be a disaster.
Friday, April 23, 2004
I love my Who’s On list. I have noticed that many university students are reading the blog when they should either be studying or attempting to get laid. You will not find any answers to your tests on this blog, guys. I love that you’re here, though. Here are some of the colleges I’ve seen on Who’s On (no particular order): Arizona, Penn, Penn State, Notre Dame, Michigan, Michigan State, Michigan Tech, Ohio University, Ohio State, Stanford, Cornell, Harvard, Indiana, Southwest Missouri State, Clemson, Missouri, North Carolina State, U of Chicago. As far as I know, I still haven’t gotten any love from Champaign-Urbana. I am definitely a Big-10 Blog, though.
Here are some other interesting “non-university” servers I’ve seen on the site: nasa.org, mcgraw-hill.com, lucasfilm.com. This can only mean that George Lucas is getting help from Nasa for researching a new movie. It will be called Nudes in Space, I think, and I will be a technical advisor.
This is the most fascinating thing I’ve learned this week: natural gas has no smell. When you “smell” a gas leak, you are not smelling the gas, which has no smell, you are smelling an additive they insert into the gas to give it a smell, so you can detect it and get a safe distance from your home before it blows up and kills your neighbors.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Up until not too long ago, we would have male strippers in the club on Saturday nights. We put them in another room on the other side of the bar; we set up 75 folding chairs and had a makeshift stage. Each week, we would get two or three bachelorette parties to come in. Women go absolutely nuts around male strippers. They’re so crazier than the men that it’s not even funny. They wear hats shaped like condom heads, they bring sex toys, they play tug-of-war with dildos the size of my arm.
The male strippers were okay guys. They have a reputation for being pricks, but most of the ones I knew really weren’t. They dress like construction workers and cowboys, and it’s a requirement that there’s a fireman in the group. The cowboy danced to Wanted Dead or Alive and the construction worker danced to Everybody’s Working for the Weekend. The fireman had a huge length of actual firehose that he had stuffed with something to make it rigid. He would then straddle the hose and dangle it out over the crowd and all the women would scream and try to grab it. He was always careful not to let any of the women actually get ahold of the hose. I saw it happen one time. The guy’s hose kinked about halfway out and started to dip down toward the crowd. Before he could pull it in, one of the women grabbed it and it was all over. It just disappeared into this screaming group of women and nobody ever saw it again. We did find out later that he packed it with the Styrofoam peanuts.
Nobody ever saw it again. That was a fib. The hose finally made its way back to the stage and it looked like it had been through a war.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
We call our three most regular customers Moe, Larry, and Curly (we really do, those are my first non-alias aliases, if that makes any fucking sense at all.) They are in the club every day we’re open. I’ll say that again: they are in the club every, single, day. They shuffle in about 4:00 pm and eventually leave around 10 or 11 pm. They sit at the bar, they eat chips, they watch TV, they talk basketball and football and NASCAR and politics. Two of them play pool. They buy the dancers drinks. Sometimes they knock on the office door and come in and bullshit with me, or ask me to look up something on the internet.
Moe is a contractor and I once destroyed his bicycle. He’s a huge guy with glasses, a mustache, long brown hair. He’s so laid-back he could fall asleep standing up. I learned the hard way that, when you’re very drunk at 3:00 am, going really fast down a hill on Moe’s bicycle is not the smartest thing to be doing.
Larry looks kind of like Howard Stern: same hair, similar face, same build. He was the victim of a burn accident that I think won him a bunch of money in a lawsuit. His hands and forearms are badly scarred, his hands are almost unusable. When he flips you the bird (which he does a lot), he will then explain that it’s the best he can do with three fused fingers. He calls it the “Uni-bird”. I love the Uni-bird. Sometimes when somebody says something stupid, I nod over at Larry and he pops the Uni-bird like he’s offering them a cigarette. Larry’s the one who doesn’t play pool, in case you were wondering.
Curly looks like Curly. He sells and services video games and juke boxes and pool tables (including ours). He also doesn’t drink. Curly is in love with one of the dancers, Jamie, and has been for years (she’s one of our veteran dancers who was here long before I started). He’s not gross about it, though. Jamie is very nice to him and doesn’t take advantage of the fact that he would give his life for her. They’re good friends, but it’s the definition of an unrequited love.
Monday, April 19, 2004
It’s Monday dinner break. Monday dinner club menu: pizza and cheesy garlic bread. I voted for Chinese, but was shot down in a huge way. One of the dancers, Tyler, is sitting across the desk from me right now, eating pizza and reading a magazine and she has no idea what I’m doing. This is probably the closest I’ll ever come to violating one of the dancers.
Sunday, April 18, 2004
The waitstaff and dancers had their monthly party at one of the bartender’s houses this morning after work. The parties go from 2 am until around 6 or 7 am. On nice nights, they fire up the gas grill and cook brats and burgers and everybody stands out on the deck and listens to music. They’re not as wild as you’d think, but I also don’t stay as late as I used to. I usually hear about the crazy 5:00 am – 6:00 am stuff on Monday (when I was bartending, I was often involved in the crazy stuff, but not anymore—I’m the responsible one now who has to leave the party before any fucking and pot smoking can take place).
Last night I played co-ed darts at the party and Jessica, a waitress and maybe the most attractive girl in the club, was my partner. She was very touchy with me while we played darts, and that wasn’t a bad thing. I ate a bratwurst and drank three beers and got home at a decent hour (by our standards).
Before the “tsunami” as my new Brit buddy Bruce would say, I always wanted to do a links section with my friends, but I was too lazy and I am dumb when it comes to code. It took me two weeks just to change the colors a little and move some borders. Now I feel bad, because I had some bloggers who followed my site from early on and I always wanted to link them on my page. So I’ll periodically do it here. Emily was the first person to post a comment on the site. She’s an American teaching in Korea, and her life is infinitely more interesting (and admirable) than mine. She’s also a great writer.