Ass Needs TLC

A note found outside a bar/restaurant in Columbus:


I'm really wondering how this note got to the place in the parking lot. I see three scenarios:

Scenario 1 - The Unlucky Lucky Person
Person A sees Person B in a bar. Person A makes nice with Person B and Person A gives Person B their number. One the way to their car, Person B accidentally drops the number and the love connection is not made.

Scenario 2 - The Unlucky Person
Person A sees Person B in a bar. Person A thinks Person B would be interested in giving their ass some TLC. Person A hands over the note and Person B takes the first opportunity they have to drop it in the parking lot.

Scenario 3 - The Unlucky Idiot
Person A is desperate to hook up with anything that can read cursive. Person A writes their information down on many sheets of paper and leaves them all over central Ohio in a sad attempt to get laid.

BUT WAIT - I see a fourth scenario
Scenario 4 - The Bored HolyJuan
Guy can't find content for his website, so he makes up stories, takes photos of random shit and posts it on his website.

The Unfortunate Tank Top

I'm a fan of tank tops. Most the time. Sadly, this gentleman, seen at a local bar, didn't realize that his shirt made it look like he was wearing a tank top.

Rodney from Russia

Rodney was at our offices for business yesterday. We wrapped up late in the day and he stuck around for dinner and drinks. We finished dinner at the Digger & Finch and then went to another bar for drinks.

As we sat down, the waitress asked what we were up to. I immediately jumped in and said that we had a client in town from Russia and that he didn’t speak English. Rodney immediately took his cue and gave a two thumbs up. I said we worked at Chase and that Rodney’s translator went home sick. We said he only knew the word “beer.” The Rodney turned to the waitress and said, “Beer!” and gave the thumbs up.

For the rest of our time there when the waitress would come back and sit with us, we would point to stuff in the bar and say, “How do you say that in your language?” and Rodney would make up some word.

We kept emphasizing that he couldn’t under stand what we were saying and we would say terrible things to his face and he’d just smile and give the thumbs up. I was trying to get the waitress to say awful things, but she was too nice.

Next time I get to be from Slovakia.

A Closer Look at the Tilted Kilt

Since I left my previous job, I have really been missing my good friend Erik. We decided that we would grab a beer and catch up on life. (OK, now that I’ve laid down that line of bullshit, let’s get to the good stuff.) We decided to go to the new Tilted Kilt that opened up near Polaris.

The Tilted Kilt is like a Scottish Hooters with less of the flesh colored panty hose and more “one job away from being a stripper” skin showing.

I arrived (late) and found Erik at their secondary bar. There is a large bar with a shit load of beers on tap and then in front of that is a long bar with stools on either side. For a Tuesday night it was pretty busy.

Erik and I spoke for about fifteen minutes. Well, Erik talked and I was practically staring at the boobs on all the girls. The Tilted Kilt costume is a bra with a tiny white top tied in a knot and a very small skirt. There were more tattoos on hips and shoulders than at Hilliard Davidson High School. Even girls that did not have ample boobs spilling out would tie their knot a little tighter to make a happy valley.

After fifteen minutes, Erik and I realized that a server had not stopped by. We waited about two minutes more and low and behold three girls showed up. They introduced themselves and took our beer order. We continued to talk. For about ten more minutes. Then the beers showed up. This was really helping my liver.

We talked and drank. I finished my beer off first and our waitress noticed I was empty right before I was and put in an order for another beer. I also asked for a menu because I wanted to try their wings. A menu appeared!

Now, the Tilted Kilt has some weird thing going on. It doesn’t seem like your waitress brings your beer or food. It’s like they have beer and food runners. The problem is that the runner must have been new, because five minutes later she have my beer to the guy at the other end of the bar. I wouldn’t have noticed except that the guy next to me said, “Hey, she just gave your beer to that guy.” They quickly remedied the situation and I got my beer.

Then our waitress was kidnapped and taken off to a distant land. A small boy in a small village was sent off on a quest to rescue her. Over time he gained experience and weapons training. In the end, as a now brave young man, he defeated the kidnappers and was able to rescue our waitress.

The waitress reappeared about thirty minutes later to find two very thirsty boys. She took our beer order and I asked for the Kilt Burner Wings. She asked if fries were OK with that. I said I didn’t want fries. She said, what about chips? They come with it. I said I didn’t want chips. She said, what about cottage cheese. I said, Ok, give me the cottage cheese. She then went off to be chatty with a few better looking guys.

Out beers came out in about five minutes and my wings arrived in about ten.

The wings were great. A hot, buttery garlic sauce. No breaded coating. Cooked perfect. They really hit the spot. And fuck yeah cottage cheese goes with wings.

Erik and I are old and we decided to call it a night. We got our checks and my $9 wings were now $11 because of a side I really didn’t want. I asked the waitress about it and she said she was sorry and that she thought the side came with the wings. She took care of it very quickly and we were off.

My opinion is this… the place just opened up and they are going to have some hiccups with the service. But waiting thirty minutes to get back to someone after you have given them a menu is terrible. I hope they improve. I think I will need to do further testing.

And holy shit the girls are pretty. And there is a whole lot of flesh to stare at for those of you who can appreciate the human form. You sickos who are looking to get your jollies can stay away. This is a refined restaurant for the educated man who takes an hour to drink beer and likes to decide what pantone color the server’s “Hello Kitty” tattoo is.

There is a line

I was out of town at a trade show recently and Al and I were having drinks with Rodney. We sat at the corner of the bar with Rodney playing the corner man. As is with most our conversations, it wandered all over the map, from industry stuff to music. If you know Al, you know that he loves music. He knows music and he appreciates it. And if you know me, you know that I suck at music.

As we were discussing music, I shared with Rodney that Al has his love of music and I have the music that you hear at Skully’s on Thursdays. Somewhere in between all of the music that Al loves and the music I love is a line. And I said the goal is to find what music lives on that line. The music we both appreciate. I said, I can’t think of any music that lives on that line.

And Allen said, “What about David Byrne?”

I said, Hey! David Byrne is on the line!

And Allen said, “What about Yo La Tengo?”

And I said, Yo La Tengo is on the line!

And given that we were two for two I said, what about Ben Folds?

Allen said, Ben Folds is not on the line.

Well, at least we still have David Byrne.

Some things never change

It's good to see that I am fitting in at the new job:

Michael Robinette

RUSHVILLE: Michael Lee Robinette, 62, of Rushville, Ohio, died peacefully in his sleep, Sunday, November 21, 2010 at his residence.

Mike was born January 18, 1948 in Columbus, Ohio, the son of the late Darwin Lee and Thelma Lucille Bliss Robinette.

Mike was a 1966 graduate of Whitehall Yearling High School, entered the U.S. Army and served four years in Germany. After leaving the service, Mike attended The Ohio State University.

During his life time, Mike was employed by Lancaster Glass, Meijer, and Cardinal Health before managing the family owned Baskins Robbins 31 Ice Cream Store for many years.

Mike is survived by his three sisters, Peggy (James) DeJarnatt, Nan (Ralph) VanGundy and Jill (Kelly) Adams; his two brothers, Paul (Jennifer) Robinette and Jon (Lauren) Robinette; and many nieces, nephews, and friends that he loved dearly.

A celebration of life will be held from 2-4 p.m. Sunday, November 28, 2010 at the home of Jill and Kelly Adams, 758 Schadel Dr. N.W., Lancaster, Ohio 43130. In lieu of flowers, cards only, please.

Bope-Thomas Funeral Home in Somerset is entrusted with the arrangements.

EDITOR'S NOTE: Mike was my manager at Baskin Robbins back in the late 80s. His parents owned the place, but he was the one I had the most contact with. I was completely surprised by his passing and am sad that I only last saw him three years ago at his father's memorial service.

Mike was extremely interesting, but I was too young to understand why. He had a lot of life experience that he tried to share, but I wasn't able to fully grasp what he was trying to relate.

Mike was in the Army in Germany and he told me about one of his jobs recording empty airwaves. He's sit for hours in a room, recording silence. He said on several occasions, he went a bit stir crazy and would yell at the recorder, "No one is ever going to listen to this!"

Back in the day, Mike loved the Amiga computer. He would talk about how great it was and that PCs and Macs were cookie cutter wanna be systems. I still remember the day he showed me my first "guru meditation error." He'd play Hunt for Red October for hours.

Mike LOVED to innocently pit the workers against each other. Not in a mean spirited way, but he loved to start shit and then slowly back away and watch the fireworks.

Mike was the manager in my Quart Percentage story from last year.

Mike has a piece of crap car that sat out back behind the building mostly abandoned. On certain nights we would use his hood to climb up on to the building and then, after we were done drinking, to jump back off. He'd would be pissed that someone(s) were jumping up and down on his hood at night. I have to assume that he knew it was us.

Years passed and I'd stop in at the Baskin Robbins when I was back in town. Mike would come out and say hello and ask how life was. I moved on and they tore down the Baskin Robbins and Mike moved on to other things.

Farewell, Mike.

Coincidence

I'm not sure if you remember the Guess How Much Money is in the Bag contest, but the winner of the contest was some guy named John from North Carolina.

As it turns out, John and I are in the same industry and I saw him at a trade show in Florida.


That's fucked up.

What's not fucked up is a girl punching me in the face.

Restraint

Restraint is not correcting the English teacher's note and sending it back to her.

Don't be a lame ass turd

Listen. You've basically been a turd your whole life. You don't care for anyone but yourself.

Well, fucker, it's time to care about a cause.

No, not cancer.

I'm talking about Off, Off, Off Broadway. I'm talking about Mad Labs.

Mad Labs needs money. They are a bunch of poor acting fucks who think that someday they might make it as big as me. This money might help to cure them of that fantasy.

Go here and join their cause: http://www.causes.com/causes/476165-madlab?m=9e4cc0c7&recruiter_id=22026465

And yes, your person information will be used to sneak children out of China.