[J.A.Sucker]

OK, so last Friday, El D turned one day older, and is venturing into middle age, the dark ages in his case, so we did what any self-respecting degenerates would do. Get hammered. Boris was out of town, so the plan was for El Diablo, hakee, Gift of Gab, and myself to get together in the City and have dinner and drinks. Bad beetz was to meet up with us later, but he claimed he got a flat tire and couldn't make it. I think he accidentally confused the Bengay for the Jergins while checking out milfhunter.com, but that's just my opinion.

Anyway, I took the train up from the south, because I didnt' want to have to park my car. I called Diablo, adn he said that GoG was late becasue he was playing internet poker. What a h0mo, but he's rich and I'm not, so I guess you gotta make hay while the sun shines.

It's funny that even though Diablo claims to be such a foodie, knowing all of the best spots in the City for dinner, whenever I go out with him, I always end up at that damned steakhouse by the ballpark. Zee's favorite. I guess I know when I'm not liked. Anyways, we got there and had a bottle of wine while we waited for Degenerate #1 to get across the bridge. Ridge Lytton Springs Zin. It was yummy, and served to us by the equally yummy Valerie. Nice looking lady. The three of use polished off that bottle of wine and it was off to the table, where we ordered two more bottles of wine and dinner. A decent pinot from Chalone and another wine (Diablo's suggestion) that was overly sweet. It had too much residual sugar, but it had alcohol, so it was OK. We had lots of stories over dinner, but that's not the point of this post. For dessert, we had coffees and the lovely Valerie sent over four big shots of Fernet. Yummy. We were pretty tanked when we left the restaurant. A good "frontal lobe" buzz.

We went to some bar around the corner and drank bourbon and tequila. It was on. Really on. At that point, Diablo was so drunk, he actually agreed with me regarding buying houses in the Bay Area. GoG and hakee said that buying was stupid - you can't afford anything good. I said "how can you afford not to?" Diablo agreed, lamenting how much money he burned by not buying a house. Like I said, we were surely gone beyond recognition at this point, because I'm never right.

Diablo then got this great idea to go to some bar in Chinatown so I can try "the Chinese." Now, the sucker isn't adverse to trying new things, especially when it's hard liquor. I drank roadside moonshine in the Chinese countryside before, and I survived that sh!t. How bad could this "The Chinese" be? I mean, David Crosby comes to the sucker for liver management lessons.

So we hopped into a cab and went to this bar. I could tell you where it was, but I can't. I mean, I really have no idea. I got there and Diablo ordered beers for all us, and I got the special bonus of "The Chinese," which I will hereby refer to as the Firewater of Asian Death (FAD). No wonder the Chinese are becoming the next global superpower. If they can handle this stuff, they can do anything.

The FAD was like drinking a that smell you get when you enter those Chinese herbal medicine stores: ginseng, cinnamon, and ginger, with arsenic added for good measure. Death to the white man. I've had it all, and this was the top of the heap, or bottom of the barrel, depending on your perspective. The best thing is that I got to taste it one and a half times. Thank God for my iron espophogus, because it was close. I washed it down with my Pacifico and we were out of there.

Our next stop was to go to North Beach and hit the Savoy Tivoli for a last drink. I suppose we walked there, but I really have no idea - there might have been a wormhole for all I can remember. My recollection was spontaneously appearing at the Savoy and getting a beer, which we promptly drank. We played a game of drunken pool, and despite Diablo being terrible at pool, we managed to beat GoG, who may or may not have been playing with hakee. I don't remember.

We took a cab back to Diablo's place, and hakee continued on home. Diablo immediately passed out, snoring loudly. I was next, I suppose. I woke up from my 4 hours of negative sleep, and GoG was gone. I suppose he took off at some point. He might have drowned in the Bay for all I know since I haven't heard from him. I crawled down to the train station to go home to die in my own bed. I got there at 8:02. Train left at 8:00. Running good. I killed an hour with the cold sweats at the coffee shop and made my way home.

I got an email from bad beetz on Sunday night, that said the following:

"I heard that you had the Chinese. How did it go?"

My reply: "Great. I'm still hungover." Another day in paradise.