Post by Joe
Good afternoon, internet.
It is I, comedic juggernaut and co-founder of Potato Joy; JOE. As I am sure you are all acutely aware, I have not been very active on this page. As I may have mentioned before, this is mostly because I HAVE been active at the bar instead. Luckily, Dave has been filling this gap by rubbing all our faces in his financial success, oddly within the context of hardcore homoerotic Terminator fan-fiction.
I'll be back... For your weiner!
So why not leave you in Dave’s capable, cyborg loving hands? Why the break with tradition? Well, I recently had an experience that I just HAD to write you about…
The night, last Wednesday night be exact, began inconspicuously enough. I hailed a taxi to take me down to my favorite watering hole, Max’s. The cab pulled up, driven by a friendly old man, and I got in. This is the first time the night took a hard right to the surreal. I wasn’t in the cab more than 2 minutes before the old man began to serenade me. Yeah, really. The man sang Bob Dylan and Sonny Bono songs to me most of the way to the bar, pausing only to explain to me how much he hates Starbucks. And before you ask, no, I don’t mean he sang along to the radio. I got the full on A Capella version. But hey, this is Baltimore. It’s not the first time a stranger has sang to me, and I doubt it will be the last.
So I arrive at Max’s, greet the bartenders, and take a seat at the bar next to some guy with a suitcase. Now, in certain situations, a guy at a bar with a suitcase is hardly worth noticing. Situations where the reason for the suitcase is instantly apparent. These situations include, but are not limited to: Airport bars, bars near bus terminals, bars near train stations, hotel bars, and bars very near hotels. Max’s is exactly none of these. There are also situations where you might notice a fella sitting at a bar with a suitcase, but would likely not give it a second thought. Situations where the reason for the suitcase is not obvious, but you can safely assume there is one. These situations include, but are not limited to: Almost every situation not covered in the list above.
Then there those other occasions. Times when one might first want to take in the entire scene before deciding to take a seat next to this person. How would one recognize these scenarios? Close attention to detail, my friend. Details like fact that, in addition to a full sized suitcase, the person in question also has in tow the following: Two tennis rackets, a pool cue, several text books, a dozen cds and dvds, a box of wet naps, and a copy of sports illustrated. These items may all sound harmless enough, and they are. What I’m saying is that when a middle aged man thinks these are reasonable things to bring with you for a Wednesday night at the bar, you would do well to consider that a “red flag.”
As it happened, the seat next to this guy was the only one available (surprise!) so I sat down. And as anyone who has ever sat next to a crazy person at the bar knows, it doesn’t take long for a conversation to begin. During the course of the hour or so conversation, my new friend showed me his entire pile of cds (which included such gems as Mariah Carey, and a different Mariah Carey), offered me part of his sandwich (which I think he brought from home), explained that he is on medication that makes him “almost” piss himself on a regular basis, told me that he was in massage school, tried repeatedly to get me to go to a strip club with him. (For those of you who haven’t been to Baltimore before, lets just say that many of the area strip clubs are a bit syphilis-y for my taste.) All through this conversation, my buddy here proceeded to close his tab, order a drink, and then open a drink at least three times.
Believe it or not, that is NOT a full sized bike.
Anyway, after I politely declined his offer several times, he finally got the hint. Declaring that it was “time for the masseuse to be massaged… on my penis” he packed up and left. No sooner had he left than I was joined by a very nice lesbian couple. They were very friendly, and we had a nice talk. I only mention them because, as it turns out, the night had one more crazy bone to throw me.
As it turns out, one of them had something of a crush on Vin Diesel. Or at least she though she did. Now I just couldn’t let that go. (Not because she was a lesbian so much as I can’t believe anybody has a crush on Vin Diesel.) After it was brought up that Vin Diesel is much shorter than he appears in the movies, (according to
Celebheights.com, which, by the way, is where I go for ALL of my celebrity height related information,Vin clocks in at just under 6 feet) she seemed far less enthusiastic about
the Pacifier. She didn’t want to believe it, of course, but after her girlfriend and I explained that they use tricks in movies to make people look taller than normal, she started to come around.
And so that was my Wednesday night. I was serinatted by a cab driver, invited to a strip club by a nut job, and then made friends with a couple over a Vin-Diesel’s-height centered argument. Why haven’t I been posting? Because any night I stay in to type is a night I could be missing out on shit like that. That’s why.
Dave is only jelous beause he can’t grow a decent beard to save his life. He is not a man.
Check it to wreck it.
