A Night out at Red Star Tavern(written like an episode of "24")

Nothing makes you aware of how you are as a person than to hang out with someone new. I mean, people who you hang with on a regular basis know important intricate details like you being an "asshole", that you tend to fall asleep like a heroin addict when heavily intoxicated, that your temper is so out of control that you once held a midget by his ankles and screamed "I'm on some Suge Knight shit motherfucker!!", your favorite past-time is giving unruly women a bath consisting of malted hops and barley, that you one time embarrassingly sobbed about how your father "never loved you", and that uber personal detail that you have a deadly fear of clowns. But a childhood friend named Luke wanted to hang with me, which was fine, but he remembered me as an optimistic 13 year old skateboarder, not the 32 year old chronic masturbating blogger with an extreme agenda of hate. So anyway, he wanted to go to this trendy bar called the "Red Star Tavern" located in my city's new "downtown" area, a bar frequented by people who think they are "so fucking cool" but in all actuality are as interesting as a tonsillectomy.(OK, I'm only hating on the place because women there treat me like I have the fucking plague, and the ones I have gotten attention from were only the snooty ass women who had a desire to tell future stories of how they once "slummed it" with a wanna-be writer once.) Anyhow, I'm going to run down how the night went like a "24" episode, thank you for reading..

HumanityCritic's "Jack Bauer" opening Narration: It's March 11th 2006 and I've been asked to go to a drinking establishment called the "Red Star Tavern", but there are a few daunting obstacles in my path. Besides the fact that a person who thinks rather highly of me will end up thinking I'm an insufferable prick, I once punched a guy in the parking lot of the bar we are going to, I once swung on a bouncer who I'm sure still works at that establishment so there's a chance of me getting stomped by a few big guys with extremely tight t-shirts, I recently gave a credit card receipt back to an unruly bartender with the words "Your tip?? Use an umbrella in the rain jackass" on it, and I have struck out with more women at Red Star that it's safe to say that I have Michale Jordan's batting average. This might turn out to be the longest night of my life.

The events in this post take place from 7:00 to 2:30 am.

6:59:58-6:59:59-7:00: I don't know about any of you but I'm a dude who likes going out pretty late, not only because going out later assures me that I won't be sleeping in an alley or with some woman of ill reputes bedroom, but loose women are so much easier to talk to when they are a few sheets to the wind. But Luke wanted to venture out early, 8:30 as he so succinctly put it, so I hopped my ass in the shower because I smelled like a bums nut-sack from playing basketball earlier. After I had lathered up, and washed my dreadlocks making them weigh about 50 pounds, I had a horrific thought. "You know, I have masturbated more times than I care to mention in this shower!!" It may not be shocking to you, but in my warped mind where I concocted the possibility of being murdered in my shower one day, I thought about forensic experts standing over my naked body laughing and pointing at my private parts saying shit like "I knew that motherfucking myth wasn't true!" But besides that, when they go in there with the black-light for further "evidence", that bathtub would light up like Yankee Stadium due to all the miscellaneous fluids embedded there. Fuck, I think too much.

7:59:58-7:59:59-8:00: *ding-dong* No, I stopped using that euphemism for my genitalia like 10, um, hours ago, Luke had arrived a half hour earlier than he said. Listen, for anyone out there who ever meets me in person, I am a chronically late bastard. It's deplorable, I know, but its not out of disrespect but just out of a feeling that I can always "make it" in time. But when people arrive earlier than they had originally said, that shit irks me. Anyway, I get in the car with Luke and his cousin Jason, who I can tell was briefed like a fucking C.I.A agent on yours truly based on the constant "Hey, were you the guy Luke talked about when.." stories. As I sat in the backseat and listened to their tales about church functions, them going out recently and sending water to various people tables as their idea of "fun", Luke holding on to the perception of me still being that same 15 year old HumanityCritic, and the fact that their language was a clean as a Pat Boone album, I knew that this would be an interesting night. I mean, not for nothing, but I felt like a pre-opt transsexual who is about to expose himself to an unknowing suitor, I'm pretty sure they are going to be hurt when they find out what kind of dick I am.

8:20:22-8:20:23-8:20:24: We get to the door and wouldn't you know it, the same bouncer who I had swung on months ago was checking ID's. He looked at my I.D for literally a minute, looking me up and down trying to figure out where he knew me from. As a chubby guy myself, even though I have lost 25 pounds outside of my "illness weight loss plan", I had no business saying this but because of his "girth" I felt compelled to say, "Come on brother, I'm not a snack so stop fucking staring!!" That was the wrong move because that jogged his memory, so for a few more minutes he hassled the fuck out of me. I really couldn't tell you why he even let my black ass in, but me calling him "Roadhouse" and asking him "are tight ass t-shirts a bouncer requirement?" probably didn't endear me to him.

9:05:13-9:05:14-9:05:15: Not only was this bar packed wall to wall, we had been there less than an hour but I was already buzzing. Maybe it was because I haven't had anything to drink in a while due to my recent flu, maybe because I didn't eat that much prior to me coming to this bar, or maybe it was all the shots I was being given by these 50 year old women who had visions of "making a man of me" later. Even though the ladies laughed at my inappropriate jokes, Luke got to know the new HumanityCritic that he didn't know before when I told the older ladies how "sexually intoxicating their Ben-gay" was. Luke finally left the table when I told the ladies that I needed an oilcan to have sex with them, if they could bake me cookies like Grandma used to after sex, and randomly asking the women "which Golden Girl are you??"

10:30:32-10:30:33-10:30:33: Right after dancing with women old enough to be my mother in what I now call a "Moms Mabley sandwich" and yelling silly shit like "shake that ass like it's 1968 baby!!", I made my way to the bar to ruin my liver some more. As I ordered my drink I see this girl named Janell, a friend of a friend who knows about this here blog. She tells me that she enjoys my blog, I thank her, and she proceeds to tell me about a "celebrity blog" that she started. I wished her well, thinking that that was the end of the conversation, and suddenly she steers the conversation to Mos Def for some reason. She says, "I did this thing on my blog about Mos Def and how he is a deadbeat daddy, what do you think HumanityCritic". Something about the way she said "HumanityCritic" in a sort of mocking tone, but I let her ass have it. I said, "For one thing, I have no love for any man that doesn't support their kids. That being said, you don't know Mos Def's situation, for all you know his ex could be unbearable, you don't know. To assume he is simply a "deadbeat" is not only journalistically lazy, it's intellectually lazy. You know what, fuck you, get the fuck out of my face you treasure troll!!" *Splash* It's been a while since I had a drink thrown in my face, my reflexes aren't what they used to be, but a free Tom Collins never hurt anybody.

12:15:22-12:15:23-12:15:24: By this time I'm drunk, but not sloppy, but a few more drinks and later I'm drunk calling some girl I hardly know with propositions of staring in a amateur porn tape with me being the director and the star. Being that this bar is always packed with people, we were fortunate to have a booth to sit at while 90% of the other patrons were forced to stand the entire time. Anyway, because I have the bladder of a pre-schooler I had to use the men's room for the 20th time. When I got back I was kind of pissed to see some random couple sitting in the spot that my big behind previously occupied. Luke and Jason didn't know who they were, and I tried to stand there and just blow it off, but I couldn't contain myself. So with an irritated "I smell piss" look on my face I aggressively motioned to the young couple like a traffic cop and said, "Get your ass up. Get your ass up. Get the fuck up!!!" Lets just say they "got the fuck up", but a few minutes later they had one of their friends come and talk to me.

12:18:11-12:18:12-12:18:13: A few minutes later the sweet looking couple came back with some corny looking black guy, with a god-damned cowboy hat on. He steps to the table and says "My friends here said that you were rude to them, is that true??" Already drunk I said, "Yeah, what are you some sort of ghetto ass prosecutor?" He then said, "Because where I'm from, people treat other people with respect!" Laughing I said, "Well your toothless ass isn't in Mayberry anymore Aunt Bee. Listen, don't make me get up and beat your ass and steal your boots Cowboy Troy!" He literally stood there for a few minutes, like he was Ivan Drago giving me some sort of pseudo intimidating stare down, to the point that I threw a bottle at him and attempted to hop the table causing him to dart in some random direction. By this time I could tell that Luke and Jason didn't sign on for this, holding me back from hitting a black man dressed like Willie Nelson that is.

1:20:45-1:20:46-1:20:47: At this time it seemed that Luke had started to embrace Humanity F Critic. Not because of his understanding that people change with time, not because I explained to him that I am a pretty nice guy who probably needed more hugs as a child, but because I had introduced him to a morally loose woman named Lola who has been passed around more than a joint at a Reggae concert. I mean, she's beautiful, but that whole "dick falling off" thing has a brother somewhat cautious. Anyway, I go outside to get some fresh air and what did I see but some dudes that I know free-styling. Even though I'm horrible at it when I'm intoxicated, I decided to join in the rhyming session. I waited my turn, then I proceeded to spit some impromptu rhymes. After the session and realizing that I had said "I rock steady like crackhead trapeze artists" and "I was born to rock like crack babies", I figured out that I have too many references to cooked cocaine in my repertoire.

1:50:34-1:50:35-1:50:36: Even though Luke and Jason wanted to leave early because they had "church service" in the morning, I found Lola riding in the car back with us a bit strange. Maybe they wanted to convert this "sinner" based on the fact that I told them that her nickname is "gang-bang", possibly they wanted to talk openly about God and the benefits of having him in her life, but probably not.(Even though I'm sure someone was on their knees, the lords name was probably yelled out at some point, and someone most likely got "blessed") As I stumble in the house and look back at Luke, Jason, and the germ farm that is Lola, Luke said, "Tonight was interesting, we have to do this again!" Translated that means "there's no why I'm ever hanging out with you, fucking psychopath. Burn in hell!!" They couldn't have driven off fast enough.

2:29:58-2:29:59-2:30:00: I drunkenly call those older women and ask what they are wearing.