Friday, May 19, 2006

Enter The Donkeypuncher

Donkeypuncher is one of the blogs I read quite often. There is something about his style I quite like, and posts like this one still make me crack up. He once made the mistake of talking about baseball... and I was forced to actually contribute substance to his comments. This lead to him inviting me to join a blogger fantasy baseball league, where I am enjoying holding down 7th spot out of 10th. At least I'm ahead of Donkeypuncher himself, who is currently sitting in 9th (and in case you are wondering, the current leader is CJ, who is proving that poker is not the only at which he excels. Or gets really lucky at, your choice ;) ).

Given this newfound brotherhood in sucking at fantasy baseball, it was only natural that when Donkeypuncher had to swing through DC he decided to look me up. Since I have already met one blogger in the flesh I am over any "Oh my God, I am about to meet someone who I only know from the internet, I think I suck" thoughts I may have once harboured. I ended up meeting Donkeypuncher, his pink shirt, and his friend at this place called Perry's. I had never been to Perry's, not even for the drag brunch, so I was looking forward to checking somewhere new. It was a nice place, featuring bartenders who enjoyed fucking with me. When I first wandered up to the bar (after appraising their beer selection), the bar tender sized me up and said "Sapporo?" Uh, yeah, that's what I want actually. This started me wondering what a Sapporo guy looked like, but I decided that they must look awesome, and left it at that.

We stayed for a few drinks as the three of us chatted about this and that. We talked cards, and swapped tales of other bloggers, while attempting to give Donkeypuncher's friend (man, I think the guy's name was Mark or something, but I suck with names) some pointers on his poker game. When I went to close my tab the second bartender glanced at my bill, and informed me I had purchased 8 Sapporos. WTF? Seeing my quizzical expression the bartender handed me the bill, and I saw that this was Part 2 of "fuck with the customer". My expression must have been priceless, as both the bartenders had a good laugh. I had a giggle, thanked them for their time, and left them a good tip.

We then hit a couple more bars on the Adams Morgan strip, our last stop being a divey (in a good way) joint called "Toledo's". "Toledo's" features a pretty good jukebox, though we had to raise our voices a bit to be heard. Donkeypuncher was relating a fine story involving a friend's bachelor party and an over-aggressive stripper (I mean, really, how can such a story suck?), and reached the punchline just as the current song finished. And that's how Donkeypuncher ended up shouting "Slap his ass back to Mexico!" into the ensuing silence.

Of course TGWNMBM (The Guy's Whose Name Might Be Mark) and I thought that was hilarious, and we both burst out laughing while an attractive blonde at the bar registered her disapproval. Donkeypuncher professed his innocence, claiming to be a victim of circumstance, and we managed to get the girl to join our table so we could explain the story in full to her.

And that is how we ended up being in the middle of recounting the over-agressive stripper story to a hot blonde when the blonde's boyfriend returned from the bathroom. He was a little surprised to find his girlfriend seated at a table with three other guys, while being regaled with such a tale, but he took it in stride. We had a bit of a chat to the couple before they headed off to get their fortune's read (I mean, what else are you going to do at 2am on a Thursday night?). That signalled the end of the night for us as well, as Donkeypuncher was getting up hideously early... but don't feel too sorry for the guy. After all, he is heading to Vegas today.

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Not sure of my plans for tonight. A good friend of mine is back in town after a few weeks away (and his girlfriend is in San Antonio for the weekend), so the odds are good that we will have a few too many. I might hit the tables later, though I do have to wake up way-too-early to play footy tomorrow morning.

Playing poker on Friday night is always a little bit of a dilemma for me. Part of me wants to get drunk off my ass and play retarded tournaments. The other part of me wants to get drunk off my ass and play cash games since the fish should be schooling. Of course I might just end up getting drunk off my ass, and not make the tables at all. The possibilities are endless.

1 Comments:

  • Was good times, my man. You remembered a ton more than I did. The drive to McLean this morning was not much fun at all...

    By Blogger Donkeypuncher, at 4:30 PM  

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