J.A.Sucker
10-05-2005, 08:48 PM
It all started out innocently enough; I was in the lab, drinking a beer and messing around with some computer stuff last Friday afternoon and my phone rang. The caller ID said “Boris” so I answered. He said “Hey Sucker, what you up to tonight? Let’s do something low key – we can go see that History of Violence movie, and then we can go play poker with the drunks afterward.”
With my liver still throbbing from last weekend’s debacle, I agreed that this was a good plan. I told him that I had to finish up some stuff in the Lab, and then I’d be in; I’d call him back when I was ready to roll. No problems so far. Of course, if this is what happened, you wouldn’t have this story to read. Not two minutes later, my cell rang again – Diablo this time. He said to me “Hey dude, so you and Boris are coming up tonight for some drinks, right?” I told him that I just spoke to Boris and said that we were keeping it low-key. He said, “No way, dude. I just spoke to Boris 30 seconds ago, and he said you two were coming up tonight.” Que Diablo! I called back Boris, and he said that there was a change of plans – drinks in the City with Diablo and the seldom posting Levi King. I guess I was in for it. I agreed, but had the stipulation that I would take the last train home, because I wanted to sleep in my own bed, and not on Diablo’s couch again. This gave me until midnight to get hammered. I was fine with this, as long as I could get something to eat. No problem, Boris said, so it was on.
I met Boris at the Palo Alto train station and we got on the train. Like the good frined he is, Boris busts out this bottle of Barolo and two cardboard coffee cups. We caught up on the train and polished off that bottle of wine. We were both a little buzzed by the time we hit the City at 8 o’clock, me in particular since I hadn’t eaten anything yet. We met Diablo and Levi in front of the Ballpark and told them my stipulation about the last train.
Diablo said, “Well, we better get to work, since Sucker is such a b!tch. Straight to the Buddha Bar, baby.” It was really on, again.
Within seconds, we were joined by our friendly cabbie, an Angry Persian guy named Sam. I don’t know why I stipulated that Sam was an Angry Persian guy, since I don’t think they come any other way. I’m reminded of an exchange that I had with Gabe in LA one time. He told me that the Italian word for Arabs is “arrabiata,” as in penne arrabiata, which has a spicy sauce. In this case, arrrabiata means “rabid” or “angry.” There’s certainly a connection here, but I digress.
In any event, four drunk guys hopped into this minivan cab and we were on our way to Chinatown and the infamous Buddha Bar, for even more infamous liquor, The Chinese. Diablo mentioned to Sam that he was going to find Boris and I some fat chicks to sleep with. He says “I take you to whorehouse! Whorehouse! You get blowjob, handjob, whatever you want! No problem!!!!” We told him that we didn’t want to hit the whorehouse; we just wanted to find some skanky bar chicks. He says “C’mon, WHOREHOUSE!!! You can EAT THE A$S! YOU LIKE TO EAT THE A$S! EAT THE AS$!!!” We deadpanned, “No eating the as$, just the Buddha Bar.” Sam was disappointed, but we were in route, so no complaints.
Levi was up front in the cab, Diablo and I were in the middle seat, but the back seat of the cab was all folded up, so Boris was sitting on the floor. About halfway to Chinatown, Sam noticed that Boris was sitting on the floor and said “I pull over – need to put up the seat!” We told him to forget it, since we were almost there already. He seemed a little disappointed again, but we forged onward.
Shortly thereafter, we were making a right turn onto 3rd street in front of the W Bar, a trendy joint where Patron is like 25 bucks a shot. While waiting at the red, there were a bunch of chicks standing in front of the bar smoking, and we did what any group of polite, single dudes would do – start yelling at them. Chicks like this. Boris turned to me and said, “I wish the windows were open.” I told him they were. Apparently, these chicks did like this, because not a second later, these two girls wandered over to the cab and asked us where we were going. We said “Buddha Bar, baby! The Chinese! You guys should come with us!” Well, how could they pass that fine offer up? They didn’t, and hopped into the cab. Sam immediately jumped out and put up the back seat. Pimpdaddy Boris jumped into the back with the two ladies, Lisa and Gemini, and we rocketed off to Chinatown.
We hopped out of the cab and the ladies asked us what we did. Professional poker players. They were impressed. We rolled into the bar, and Mark, the same bartender from last week was there when we showed up. The six of us rolled in and screamed “Get us the Chinese!!!” Diablo and Levi b!tched out and said, “no Chinese for us – we’re getting Jameson.” Puzzies. Mark poured us four shots of the evil liquor and two of Ireland’s Breakfast of Champions for the gals not named Gemini and Lisa. We were getting ready to shoot it down and upon smelling the Chinese, Lisa decided that a martini would be wiser. Gemini was a trooper though, and we drank our shots. I still haven’t eaten, and the Chinese was the end of me. The true champ was Boris, however, who shot the extra double of The Chinese. Montana knows how to party! We all got some Pacificos and were chatting up the ladies, who were quite into us. Gemini decided to go outside for a smoke, and I went out with her. The other fellas were inside chatting it up with Lisa – doing quite well, I’m sure.
Outside, I’m sipping my beer and had the following conversation with the beloved Gemini.
Sucker: So, what have you two ladies been up to tonight?
Gemini: Ah, you know. Hanging out, having a good time, partying. Working.
Sucker: Working? On Friday night? What the hell do you guys do?
Gemini: You know… working.
Sucker’s Inner Voice: (SH!T!!!)
Sucker: Ummm, OK.
I bristled and the body language changed radically.
Sucker: That’s cool… (what else was I supposed to say?)
Awkward silence.
Gemini: Don’t be discouraged by what I said. We still like to hang out, and enjoy you guys’ company.
Sucker: Discouraged? Nah, it’s fine.
That was my outward response. Really, my inner voice had another message.
Sucker’s Inner Voice: “Discouraged.” That’s an awful big word for A WHORE!!!
I left her there and decided that I had to go tell the boys what the score was. I ran into Diablo first in the doorway. Gemini was not four feet away from us when we had the following exchange:
Diablo: This is [censored]’ great man! These chicks are awesome!
Sucker: Dude, this chicks are HOOKERS!
Diablo: Ah, hell yeah they are hookers. It’s obvious. You Stanford kids are so naïve – ask Boris and Levi, they all knew. You need to get out more.
It’s a good thing that Diablo plays all of his poker online these days, because he was letting off the biggest tell ever. No way did Joe Cool realize that these were working girls. No way in hell. Of course, nobody could ever convince him otherwise. So I called his bluff and went up to Levi, who’s know Diablo for 15 years.
Levi: What’s up dude? This is awesome!
Sucker: Dude, these chicks are HOOKERS!
Levi: No sh!t. (Obviously stunned). You guys were out there for like 2 minutes. How in the hell did you find that out so fast? Are you sure?
Sucker: 1000% sure, dude. How did I find it out? I’m the Sucker. Tell me honestly, did you have any idea?
Levi: Absolutely none. None at all.
Sucker: Diablo claims that it was obvious, and that he knew.
Levi: (almost peeing his pants laughing) No way. He’s such a liar. Well, should be tell Boris? (He was really into Lisa at this point, conversating with the best of them)
Sucker: I dunno. I tell you what. I’m hungry. Since these guys are our friends, we’ll do what any friend would do. Let’s finish our beer, then go find me food. We won’t tell them where we are and we’ll let them deal with the hookers. Whaddaya think?
Levi: Brilliant!
Luckily for Boris, I still had plenty of beer left, and he came over to me before Levi and I could bolt for the door.
Boris: What’s up, man? These chicks are awesome! We are so getting laid tonight!
Sucker: Well, you are.
Boris: Why do say that?
Sucker: These chicks are HOOKERS!
Boris: No sh!t. How did you find that out?
Sucker: I’m The Sucker. What can I say?
Boris: Oh man, we’ve gotta get out of here.
Here’s where the story gets completely unhinged. My plan was to tell the hookers that they got their free drink and to get the hell out. Levi liked my plan. However, Cassanovas # 1 and 1A wouldn’t go out like that, and were NICE TO THE HOOKERS!!! What the hell? They wanted to let them off easy. I told them, whatever. I was hungry and needed to eat before I passed out Have fun with the cum-dumpsters. I finished my beer and looked over at Diablo – he was getting their numbers and told them good-bye. They left and we did shortly thereafter. On the way out, Mark turned to us and put his fingers up to his mouth and did the tongue gesture. It was awesome.
We headed down the street to some hole-in-the-wall burger joint for some much needed gastrointestinal relief. While getting our burgers, we had some more beers and were regaling our misadventures at the Buddha Bar. Since we were all hammered, everyone in the joint found out about our run-in with the hookers. These two old guys, median age 63 and a half, sitting behind us couldn’t resist and wanted to know what the hell happened. We told them the full story about how we unknowingly picked up two crack-whore steetwalkers out front of the W and hit the Buddha bar. We told them about The Chinese. Boris pointed out that Gemini was a trooper to actually drink the Chinese and to pretend to enjoy it. I said “of course she drank it. She’s used to having foul [censored] in her mouth.”
Boris deadpanned “Well, I guess you’re right. The Chinese is nothing compared to rotten spooge.” He had a point there.
We headed out of the burger shack at about 10:15. I had an hour and a half before I had to go. Feeling better, we hit a bar for some Irish coffees. Yummy. I forgot the name of the place, but Diablo can recommend it to inquiring minds. We chatted there for awhile, and we shuffled out to another place to meet Hakkee. I had another last drink and chatted with those folks for awhile. After awhile, I looked at my watch – 11:45. Crap! I gotta jet, so I said my farewells and sprinted out for a cab.
I finally got a cab at 11:55 and the race was on. Diablo wished me good luck and said that if I got stranded, just give them a call and we’d meet up. Unfortunately, I looked at my phone and the battery was dead. No more outs in the deck for the Sucker. I was committed with the worst of it, so I did what every smart gambler did – I hoped for the best. Miraculously, I hit the train station at 12:01; one minute to spare. My fare was 8 bucks. I gave the cabbie a 20 and told him to just give me some change with a five in it for the train. I took it and ran out – full sprint to the train. I almost knocked over four homeless men and an old lady with a walker, but I made it with 30 seconds to spare. Running good. Running good, indeed.
Back to my thesis, which is obviously writing itself.
With my liver still throbbing from last weekend’s debacle, I agreed that this was a good plan. I told him that I had to finish up some stuff in the Lab, and then I’d be in; I’d call him back when I was ready to roll. No problems so far. Of course, if this is what happened, you wouldn’t have this story to read. Not two minutes later, my cell rang again – Diablo this time. He said to me “Hey dude, so you and Boris are coming up tonight for some drinks, right?” I told him that I just spoke to Boris and said that we were keeping it low-key. He said, “No way, dude. I just spoke to Boris 30 seconds ago, and he said you two were coming up tonight.” Que Diablo! I called back Boris, and he said that there was a change of plans – drinks in the City with Diablo and the seldom posting Levi King. I guess I was in for it. I agreed, but had the stipulation that I would take the last train home, because I wanted to sleep in my own bed, and not on Diablo’s couch again. This gave me until midnight to get hammered. I was fine with this, as long as I could get something to eat. No problem, Boris said, so it was on.
I met Boris at the Palo Alto train station and we got on the train. Like the good frined he is, Boris busts out this bottle of Barolo and two cardboard coffee cups. We caught up on the train and polished off that bottle of wine. We were both a little buzzed by the time we hit the City at 8 o’clock, me in particular since I hadn’t eaten anything yet. We met Diablo and Levi in front of the Ballpark and told them my stipulation about the last train.
Diablo said, “Well, we better get to work, since Sucker is such a b!tch. Straight to the Buddha Bar, baby.” It was really on, again.
Within seconds, we were joined by our friendly cabbie, an Angry Persian guy named Sam. I don’t know why I stipulated that Sam was an Angry Persian guy, since I don’t think they come any other way. I’m reminded of an exchange that I had with Gabe in LA one time. He told me that the Italian word for Arabs is “arrabiata,” as in penne arrabiata, which has a spicy sauce. In this case, arrrabiata means “rabid” or “angry.” There’s certainly a connection here, but I digress.
In any event, four drunk guys hopped into this minivan cab and we were on our way to Chinatown and the infamous Buddha Bar, for even more infamous liquor, The Chinese. Diablo mentioned to Sam that he was going to find Boris and I some fat chicks to sleep with. He says “I take you to whorehouse! Whorehouse! You get blowjob, handjob, whatever you want! No problem!!!!” We told him that we didn’t want to hit the whorehouse; we just wanted to find some skanky bar chicks. He says “C’mon, WHOREHOUSE!!! You can EAT THE A$S! YOU LIKE TO EAT THE A$S! EAT THE AS$!!!” We deadpanned, “No eating the as$, just the Buddha Bar.” Sam was disappointed, but we were in route, so no complaints.
Levi was up front in the cab, Diablo and I were in the middle seat, but the back seat of the cab was all folded up, so Boris was sitting on the floor. About halfway to Chinatown, Sam noticed that Boris was sitting on the floor and said “I pull over – need to put up the seat!” We told him to forget it, since we were almost there already. He seemed a little disappointed again, but we forged onward.
Shortly thereafter, we were making a right turn onto 3rd street in front of the W Bar, a trendy joint where Patron is like 25 bucks a shot. While waiting at the red, there were a bunch of chicks standing in front of the bar smoking, and we did what any group of polite, single dudes would do – start yelling at them. Chicks like this. Boris turned to me and said, “I wish the windows were open.” I told him they were. Apparently, these chicks did like this, because not a second later, these two girls wandered over to the cab and asked us where we were going. We said “Buddha Bar, baby! The Chinese! You guys should come with us!” Well, how could they pass that fine offer up? They didn’t, and hopped into the cab. Sam immediately jumped out and put up the back seat. Pimpdaddy Boris jumped into the back with the two ladies, Lisa and Gemini, and we rocketed off to Chinatown.
We hopped out of the cab and the ladies asked us what we did. Professional poker players. They were impressed. We rolled into the bar, and Mark, the same bartender from last week was there when we showed up. The six of us rolled in and screamed “Get us the Chinese!!!” Diablo and Levi b!tched out and said, “no Chinese for us – we’re getting Jameson.” Puzzies. Mark poured us four shots of the evil liquor and two of Ireland’s Breakfast of Champions for the gals not named Gemini and Lisa. We were getting ready to shoot it down and upon smelling the Chinese, Lisa decided that a martini would be wiser. Gemini was a trooper though, and we drank our shots. I still haven’t eaten, and the Chinese was the end of me. The true champ was Boris, however, who shot the extra double of The Chinese. Montana knows how to party! We all got some Pacificos and were chatting up the ladies, who were quite into us. Gemini decided to go outside for a smoke, and I went out with her. The other fellas were inside chatting it up with Lisa – doing quite well, I’m sure.
Outside, I’m sipping my beer and had the following conversation with the beloved Gemini.
Sucker: So, what have you two ladies been up to tonight?
Gemini: Ah, you know. Hanging out, having a good time, partying. Working.
Sucker: Working? On Friday night? What the hell do you guys do?
Gemini: You know… working.
Sucker’s Inner Voice: (SH!T!!!)
Sucker: Ummm, OK.
I bristled and the body language changed radically.
Sucker: That’s cool… (what else was I supposed to say?)
Awkward silence.
Gemini: Don’t be discouraged by what I said. We still like to hang out, and enjoy you guys’ company.
Sucker: Discouraged? Nah, it’s fine.
That was my outward response. Really, my inner voice had another message.
Sucker’s Inner Voice: “Discouraged.” That’s an awful big word for A WHORE!!!
I left her there and decided that I had to go tell the boys what the score was. I ran into Diablo first in the doorway. Gemini was not four feet away from us when we had the following exchange:
Diablo: This is [censored]’ great man! These chicks are awesome!
Sucker: Dude, this chicks are HOOKERS!
Diablo: Ah, hell yeah they are hookers. It’s obvious. You Stanford kids are so naïve – ask Boris and Levi, they all knew. You need to get out more.
It’s a good thing that Diablo plays all of his poker online these days, because he was letting off the biggest tell ever. No way did Joe Cool realize that these were working girls. No way in hell. Of course, nobody could ever convince him otherwise. So I called his bluff and went up to Levi, who’s know Diablo for 15 years.
Levi: What’s up dude? This is awesome!
Sucker: Dude, these chicks are HOOKERS!
Levi: No sh!t. (Obviously stunned). You guys were out there for like 2 minutes. How in the hell did you find that out so fast? Are you sure?
Sucker: 1000% sure, dude. How did I find it out? I’m the Sucker. Tell me honestly, did you have any idea?
Levi: Absolutely none. None at all.
Sucker: Diablo claims that it was obvious, and that he knew.
Levi: (almost peeing his pants laughing) No way. He’s such a liar. Well, should be tell Boris? (He was really into Lisa at this point, conversating with the best of them)
Sucker: I dunno. I tell you what. I’m hungry. Since these guys are our friends, we’ll do what any friend would do. Let’s finish our beer, then go find me food. We won’t tell them where we are and we’ll let them deal with the hookers. Whaddaya think?
Levi: Brilliant!
Luckily for Boris, I still had plenty of beer left, and he came over to me before Levi and I could bolt for the door.
Boris: What’s up, man? These chicks are awesome! We are so getting laid tonight!
Sucker: Well, you are.
Boris: Why do say that?
Sucker: These chicks are HOOKERS!
Boris: No sh!t. How did you find that out?
Sucker: I’m The Sucker. What can I say?
Boris: Oh man, we’ve gotta get out of here.
Here’s where the story gets completely unhinged. My plan was to tell the hookers that they got their free drink and to get the hell out. Levi liked my plan. However, Cassanovas # 1 and 1A wouldn’t go out like that, and were NICE TO THE HOOKERS!!! What the hell? They wanted to let them off easy. I told them, whatever. I was hungry and needed to eat before I passed out Have fun with the cum-dumpsters. I finished my beer and looked over at Diablo – he was getting their numbers and told them good-bye. They left and we did shortly thereafter. On the way out, Mark turned to us and put his fingers up to his mouth and did the tongue gesture. It was awesome.
We headed down the street to some hole-in-the-wall burger joint for some much needed gastrointestinal relief. While getting our burgers, we had some more beers and were regaling our misadventures at the Buddha Bar. Since we were all hammered, everyone in the joint found out about our run-in with the hookers. These two old guys, median age 63 and a half, sitting behind us couldn’t resist and wanted to know what the hell happened. We told them the full story about how we unknowingly picked up two crack-whore steetwalkers out front of the W and hit the Buddha bar. We told them about The Chinese. Boris pointed out that Gemini was a trooper to actually drink the Chinese and to pretend to enjoy it. I said “of course she drank it. She’s used to having foul [censored] in her mouth.”
Boris deadpanned “Well, I guess you’re right. The Chinese is nothing compared to rotten spooge.” He had a point there.
We headed out of the burger shack at about 10:15. I had an hour and a half before I had to go. Feeling better, we hit a bar for some Irish coffees. Yummy. I forgot the name of the place, but Diablo can recommend it to inquiring minds. We chatted there for awhile, and we shuffled out to another place to meet Hakkee. I had another last drink and chatted with those folks for awhile. After awhile, I looked at my watch – 11:45. Crap! I gotta jet, so I said my farewells and sprinted out for a cab.
I finally got a cab at 11:55 and the race was on. Diablo wished me good luck and said that if I got stranded, just give them a call and we’d meet up. Unfortunately, I looked at my phone and the battery was dead. No more outs in the deck for the Sucker. I was committed with the worst of it, so I did what every smart gambler did – I hoped for the best. Miraculously, I hit the train station at 12:01; one minute to spare. My fare was 8 bucks. I gave the cabbie a 20 and told him to just give me some change with a five in it for the train. I took it and ran out – full sprint to the train. I almost knocked over four homeless men and an old lady with a walker, but I made it with 30 seconds to spare. Running good. Running good, indeed.
Back to my thesis, which is obviously writing itself.