Castor Oil...sickeningly good

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Hail to the Brokeback Bar

Last weekend the lovely lovely paramour of mind relented to the idea of going to a bar and watching the Redskins/ Buccaneers game with me. “The biggest game in years” I ranted and raved, “we have to go commune with others to get the full experience!!!!”


Being a charitable sort and kinda hungry with a hankering for something fried and delicious she agreed and after securing the wee ones in capable hands off we went to meet with the fellow citizens of Fandom de la Redskinsville. To be fair to the fucking morons soon to populate this story we headed out midway through the 2nd quarter so there was plenty of time for said morons to get retardedly wasted before we showed up. And wasted, oh Lord, they were. Anyway…

First we went to the local “sports bar” which was a nightmare. It was packed beyond all recognition and as soon as we walked in I saw some guy screaming at the TV imploring the broadcast gods “GIBBS FUCKING GROW A SACK AND GO FOR IT ON 4th MOTHERFUCKING SHIIIIIIITTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!! PORRRRRTISSSSSSS GO FOR IT MOTHERFUCKING REDDDDSKINZZZZZZZZZZ YAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” It was second down. Needless to say, they went for it. High fives all around!!!

If you ever go to a sports bar and you’re not an afficianado of whatever event is being spotlighted and want to find out something about the event do yourself a favor and keep as far away as possible from the loudmouthed high-fiving mouthbreathers in replica jerseys that ass grab each other and curse out the officials after every play. These are the same shitfaces that buy Three Doors Down records and think Vin Diesel is a good actor. They should be burned alive as their combustible carbon based life structure is worth more in measurable BTUs to the human race than any malformed opinion they might ever come up with. If you want to hear some insight worth hearing gravitate to the quieter drunks in simple team caps watching intently from their seats, usually they at least know what sport is being contested.

When the Redskins got zero yards on a drive and the punter punted a truly shitty punt we were assaulted with a “WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO BAYBEEE EAT MY ASS FUCKING BUCS YEAH MOTHERFUCKER!!!” and knew it was time to beat it. We had been at the sports bar for approximately 37 seconds.

I desperately wanted to see the game and I was indebted to my beloved for something fried and delicious so we headed up to the local yokel bar that’s been well documented in this here blog. The gang was definitely all there minus Magic and Boob who I think might be dead and if so I’m writing the Better Business Bureau to recommend an A+++ rating to Madame Satan’s House of Voodoo and Curses for giving me the two for one bargain special of a lifetime. Amongst the usual rabble of the despondent and nearly dead there were some new faces there and the bar was really full but my Madame Beauteous and I were able to find a booth. Properly squatted we settled in to grimace and glower and feel the sting of certain doom (me) and enjoy some taquitos (she). Our friends UgaBully and Lisa showed up and joined in the fun. Lisa was totally playing footsie with me which was kinda weird but she covered it up with an excuse of “I thought that was the table leg” which forestalled me and Uga having to duke it out or draw pistols at dawn, (never fun anyway, much less fun with a hangover), and get at it till the death. I’m not a big fan of killing my friends even when honor calls for it so I appreciated Lisa calming down the situation (even though it was all her fault to begin with….TRAMP!!!).

We were all watching the game and having a good time in spite of the stress except for the nonstop assault of finger in the teeth foghorn whistles and truly aggressive latent homosexual beast behavior from two meatheads across the way from our booth. Backward hatted and replica jerseyed they were hugging and high-fiving and ass slapping each other without pause or conscience. The booth next to ours was occupied by some repulsively ugly but otherwise harmless almost sentient beings who somehow became the target of the two residents of Brokeback Football Stadium’s witticisms.


And so on and so forth. It was getting pretty silly, they came over and high fived me and the Mrs. (odd) and then implored me to “GET THE FUCK UP AND GET OVER HERE AND CHEER MOTHERFUCKER WHOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! Of course I had to, how could you not?!?! It turns out these two are brothers, (very affectionate brothers to boot!!!), who have never set foot in the bar before that day. Like Spinal Tap said about the Druids, “No one knows who they were…or what they were doing”, these two yahoos were a mystery to all involved.

I have to go now, I’ll finish tomorrow with tales of smashed tables, kissed lips and a $500 round of shots.

Sorry for the delay!


  • To quote Auntie Mame, "How....vivid." And here I was, sitting at home alone, screaming "“COOLEY PUT THAT ONE IN YO ASS!!!!” all by myself.

    By Blogger Washington Cube, at 7:11 PM  

  • Good stuff. I had a similar experience with a Steeler fan bar on the Hill. No wonder I don't go to sports bar. Still I need a bit of the ol' testosterone when watching a game. Home is too serene. Bars are just silly.

    By Blogger G Force, at 11:00 PM  

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