Your Suicide Attempts Are Now Mildly Amusing

Suicide is no laughing matter. Unless it's not really suicide, but a string of increasingly comedic attempts at gaining attention/replacing hugs from your father.

As my nutbar girlfriend ratchets up her attempts to keep things interesting/dramatic enough to keep me around, I am becoming more and more entertained by her methods. The first time she told me she popped pills, I freaked, and called the cops. To their credit, they arrived promptly, wrangled her into an ambulance, and got her cleaned up nicely at the hospital. They were attentive, helped ease any of my fears, and she was eventually shuttled to the mental ward at a local hospital for a few days, giving me time to relax and hit a few bars without the ever-present nagging waiting at home.

Of course, she had only taken a few harmless pills, but I didn't know that at the time. I wised up. The second time she pulled that card, I called her bluff WAY early, and just went ahead and called the cops. After telling her that I was going to call the cops. Repeatedly. And she didn't understand what they were doin in her apartment.

The third time, I called the cops without warning. This time, she was a little more hostile. She decided she was tired of being in the hospital, ripped out her IV, and called me to come pick her up. From the phone in her room. Now, I had asked the paramedics to call me when she was ready to go home, or on another medical vacation, so I didn't understand why she was calling. When I got to the ER, told them I was looking for Nutbar, and they replied, "So are we," I got it.

Good move, Nutbar!

The resident cop and I found her hiding in the parking garage. And she gets mad at me when I laugh at times like these.

I am now eagerly awaiting her next move. I know she's not going to REALLY off herself at this point, and I've done all I can to get her the help she needs. So now it's just a matter of what funny story I'll be telling my friends on Monday.

Bender + new relationship = debacle

I've had my share of relationships, some good, most forgettable, and a few that were like tornadoes of hate that left a marked track of destruction for anyone unfortunate enough to be in my life at the time, as well as a lingering ramifications that were felt years later. And it is from this latter type of relationship that I have found a universal truth:

One should never begin a relatinship whilst in the midst of an epic bender, unless one is prepared to end said relationship during said bender.

Starting a relationship during a bender can happen quite by accident. You're out partying, looking for little more than adequate conversation and drunk sex. It's easy enough to find both. But every now and then, you'll run into someone looking for the same, and you'll get stuck. It's too easy when you're both getting hammered and looking for some sort of physical contact. Whether it's just from pure sexual need, or the result of years of suppressed emotions and traumatic experiences, it happens that two people can feel a mutal attractin that isn't, in any way shape or form, healthy. And the next thing you know, you're sobering up, and the person that you've been dating (or, God forbid, moved in with) is a horrbile, drunken mess. And you have nothing in common other than the booze and the sex, and we all know which one of those gets old.

So I'll let you know when I figure out how to get out of this latest one.

Now that we live in a Blue State...

Let's take it up a notch.

This was obviously a pretty radical election. This point has already been beaten to a bloody pulp. I am impressed, no doubt, but I was struck by CNN's mostly white guy "election team" breaking their arms patting themselves on the back about this. "Look how accepting and progressive we are!!" Not quite.

A few states were also voting on a gay marriage ban, which passed across the board, including in California. This is something I just can't understand. Why does this threaten so many people? Since when is marriage some exclusive club? Celebs jump in and out of marriages like rental rental cars, trivializing this "sacred" institution. Where's the uproar there? There are drive through marriage chapels in Vegas. Nuff said.

I'm not gay, and I'm always more than happy to prove it, but I have no problems with my "alternative lifestyle" brothers and sisters. This seems like a basic human rights law. So what's the beef? Let's get on this, RVA.

In related news, California also dropped the ball on an even more important law. San Francisco had the opportunity to decriminalize prostitution, but the Man still has the right to hassle ladies of the night. Isn't this an example of the suppression of the right to work? So come on, Virginia, let's lead the way by helpin' out those ho's.

Hippies revolutionary? Not quite.

I love documetaries. I recently caught a gem on PBS highlighting the counter culture of the 60s. This has always been a period and generation that facinated me, so I was all in. It was well done, but it made me think a little harder about just how revolutionary this "movement" really was.

I decided that I'm not completely sold on how hippies were creating a new way of thinking. Sure, the were breaking the mold of the feel-good 50s, but couldn't people see this coming a mile away? Let's break it down: you're trying to sell kids on rampant drug use, copious amounts of meaningless sex, avoiding a war that was both pointless and almost certain death, AND they got to drive around in bitchin' vans? Really? Do you think you need to hire the Martin Agency to pitch ice water to people in hell?

Don't get me wrong, it was an important time in our cultural history. But it was bound to happen. The climate was certainly right for it to pop off: horrible war that killed thousands of young people, McCarthism fresh in peoples' minds, the focus on social awareness in music, and the Beat Generation pouring new ideas into fresh young minds. I'd give anything to have been there. But I have a little hope. Things seem just as volatile now as they were then. So where are the great leaders, poised to carry us into a new age of self-awareness? And copious amounts of meaningless sex?

So, someone, please, start the revolution. I'll start restoring the VW.

Southside Bars are trendy...In other cities

I know you've seen the t-shirts with the phrase "I'm huge in Japan." This applies not just to hipsters, but to my favorite Southside watering holes.

You see, the same red-neckery that keeps Fan Rats from crossing the James to pay half as much for their beers is what makes these bars so appealing in other parts of the country. When I was freelancing (okay, squatting) in San Francisco, one of my favorite bars was Butter. This place is great. In one corner of the warehouse-style bar is a hollowed out trailer. It's been converted into an all-night snack bar that serves corn dogs, tater tots, and all things "Southern." Not only that, but they served PBR long before it caught on as the new "in" beer, and even had 40s in brown bags.

This was fantastic. Girls were thrilled with the novelty of drinking malt liquor from a brown bag without realizing just how much the sweet, sweet Hurricane was wrecking their judgement. And there I was, a bona-fied Southern Gentlemen, more than happy to introduce them to the Appalachian Handshake (finger-banging). That's what I call a ho-down.

When I was living in Old Town Alexandria, I was just a short walk away from the Rock-It Grill. I have no idea where this place got its clientelle, but there was always a steady mix of military poon-hounds, good-ol'-boys, and whatever unfortunate Metro Elite stumbled in looking for a martini.

Rock-It reminds me a lot of my new neighborhood haunt, Rock Falls Tavern. Rock Falls is certainly representative of the Southside stereotype, with a rough looking crowd, thick, billowing smoke, and loud, god-awful music. I love it. The bartenders hop up on stage for the occasional karaoke tune (heavy metal/country/Cash), the women obviously just left the early shift at Daddy Rabbits, and the hooch is cheap. But as trashy as it is, I could easily see it becoming the next hot spot in Baltimore/Boston/Philly. With a little different crowd and a premium on the drinks, of course.

So the next time you're in the gentlemen's loo at Magoo's, and you're forced to piss in a 5-gallon bucket because all of the urinals are broken (I'm not kidding), just remember that the Jet Set in L.A are paying extra for this.

Charles Haley has your Power Point presentation right here

I love sports and I love reading, so of course I love reading about sports. The latest gem is a book by John Rocker antagonist, Jeff Pearlman. He penned a pretty good book on the 86 Mets, and his newest covers the 90s era Cowboys. Being a Red Sox and Redskins fan, there aren't too many teams I dislike more.

The common thread in these books is the fact that the teams are loaded with a-holes and certifiably insane men with the money and above-the-law attitude to attempt pretty much anything. Also, they bone a lot.

One of the chapters in the new book is dedicated to Charles Haley, more specifically, his habit of pleasuring himself. Constantly. Everywhere. Did I mention that Haley swings a meat bat? Awesome.

Please, enjoy this excerpt:

"Charles used to beat off in meetings while talking graphically about other players’ wives. It got to the point of ejaculation."

And there you go. We just solved the mystery of Jimmy Johnson's perfect hair. He uses the same product as Cameron Diaz in Something about Mary. Nice shot, Chuck.

I dare you not to go buy this book.

My waiter, the Brother

On a recent trip to a Southside Lone Star Steakhouse (leave me alone, it wasn't my idea), I was dining with friends when our waiter strolled up to take our drink order. Nice guy, pretty attentive without hovering, and the food and drinks arrived on time. But what struck me about dude was that he was black, and suddenly I realized this was odd. I mean, when was the last time you had a black dude as a waiter?



Before you get your tighty whities in a bunch, this isn't a racist thing. It's not a comment like "He speaks so well!" or seeing a black dude and a white dude walk ino a court room and being suprised that the white dude is the defendant and the black dude is the lawyer. This is just an observation.



Now, this whole thing made me wonder why you don't see more blacks guys slinging grub at restaurants. Having done my time in the trenches, I know what waiting offers. Lots of loose cash, lots of loose women, and great connections for whatever sort of illegal goodie your heart desires. Who wouldn't want that?



So why aren't more brothers taking advantage? Therein lies the real question. At first I thought that maybe it's just that they aren't getting hired. But with the number of eateries around town, there have to be at least a few owners who would jump on any decent prospects to fill out their waitstaff (a notoriously hard-drinking, unreliable group of pirates).



But then I thought that maybe they just don't want to. Maybe most black guys already have better jobs. It's not that much of a stretch. Waiting sucks.



And maybe they've already got plenty of snatch lined up. It's not like you're sleeping with quality when you're banging out every other waitress and hostess in town. Or the overly-drunk slags that stagger in and out of the same bars and restaurants every weekend, expecting you to take them out the next weekend. Who wants that?



And illegal treats can be had anywhere, not just from that shady guy who shows up at the back door of the establishment every few days, or who gets comped every now and then at the bar. That shit's easy to find.



So maybe it's just a matter of self-respect. But it does lead me to believe that this could be the root of the whole tipping thing. You know what I'm talking about. The only reason I throw down a healthy tip is because I've been there, and I know that's how these people make money. If you've never been a waiter, you probably don't get it. Get it?