Friday, October 3, 2008

October 3, 2008 The Adventures of Frank

So it’s Friday, and after last week’s political rant, I figured I’d lighten it up a little bit. This is a little story of my friend “Frank.” Enjoy.

The Setting: Friday night, a bar called Brendan's Pub.

Backstory: Frank went to this pub during the week a few times watch his favorite baseball team. The demographic at this bar are the typical "regulars"/locals. It's like Cheers, it's a place where everybody knows your name. It’s the watering hole on the corner that’s really friendly with really cheap drinks, and where they don’t ID you. The waitress is cute and really friendly. The second day Frank went in, all the same characters were there and remembered his name and such. It's definitely a middle-aged man/blue collar bar. So, on a Friday night, Frank went out with some co-workers, but they went home around 12, but Frank was still wired, so he went over to this bar by himself to see if anyone he had met was still hangin around . . .

The Story: Frank walks into the bar, sits in the same spot near the door, and gets his usual can of PBR. He pops it open, and looks around. Something seems off about the scene that night. Then he notices that it's 90% guys. Ok, no big deal. The waitress disappears, and he sits for 5 minutes or so before a guy comes over to him and says that the waitress is downstairs and will be up shortly. Thanks for the info broseph, but what's with the lisp and flamboyantly gay attitude? Oh.
All the dudes in there were gay. Shit. Frank couldn’t just leave a brand new beer though, that’s against man-law. But then disaster strikes; due to previous drinking, Frank realizes he has to piss. Due to the layout of this small bar it requires him to move through the bar all the way to the back, cutting through groups of gay dudes. Frank took his chances. Poor decision Frank. He would’ve been better off swallowing his socially competent pride and hosing those nice jeans of his. It was raining out anyways, no one would've noticed. So Frank goes through a group, and hears a guy say to his friend, "Oh, check out this guy here." Frank noticed that the guy gave him the up and down. Frank felt dirty . . . real dirty. So Frank did his business, while also filling the porcelain with tears. Frank now appreciates how girls feel when they go out.
He walks back out and takes his seat, feeling utterly violated. But then his night takes a turn: a blond walks over to him and sits down and initiates conversation with him. This is something new, maybe this night isn't so bad after all Frankie Boy. She asks him how old he thinks she is. Frank, being an intelligent guy, says 26, playing the safety card and blatantly shaving a few years off his guess. Turns out she's 30 (nice job Frank). So she asks him what he wants to talk about. He says travel, because she's foreign, and usually that's a fun conversation. She declines, saying that because she's been so many places that other people don't go, it's not fun for her to talk about it. Frank finds this fairly odd, so he asks her what she wants to talk about instead. "Politics." Again, using his intelligence, Frank immediately declines and tell her that it's a bad idea to talk about this at a bar, especially this late in the night. So the conversation quickly shifts again to a new topic.
Frank: "So, if we can't talk travel, and politics is off limits, what else do you want to talk about."
Blond: "Sex."

Frank was a deer in headlights. He asks her what about it that she'd like to know, and she says, "What do you think about it?" In the toolbag response of the century, custom for any 24 year old male caught in headlights, Frank replies, "Well, sex is great, and I love having it."
Strike one for Frank
So then he asks her what else, and she immediately responds: "Well, what do you think of bisexuals?" Again, headlights and Frank meet again.
"Well, I've never done it or anything, but I figure, if it makes you happy, more power to you."
Strike two for Frank
So she turns to the other side of the bar, then looks back at Frank and says: "Alright, I gotta go save my girlfriend (not “girl that’s a friend” girlfriend, but “let’s go home and play with rubber toys” girlfriend) from that guy that's hitting on her, but I'm gonna bring her back over here and we'll chat some more."

So let's pause here for a moment and digest what's going on. An attractive blond (with an accent, so it makes her hotter) approaches Frank, and starts talking about sex and bisexual experiences with Frank, and THEN tells Frank that she has a girlfriend, and that they'd like to talk some more with him. This is the part where Frank tells me he had the most amazing experience of his life with two lesbians, right?

Wrong. What did Frank do? As soon as she turned to go get her girlfriend, he panicked, threw down a couple bucks, and ran out the front door. Literally.

You fail Frank.



Song of the Week: "Hospital Bed" by Cold War Kids

Quote of the Week: "Experience is that marvelous thing that enables you recognize a mistake when you make it again." - F. P. Jones

Random Fact of the Week: The longest one syllable word in the English language is "screeched".

Picture of the Week: Oh HELL no!

Until next week, you chose . . . poorly,

Fred

4 comments:

julesmc said...

This has to bemy favorite post in a long while. Kudos, Frank. Uh, I mean, Fred.

Gareth said...

Best. Story. Ever.

Look at it this way...if she was asking how yo...Frank felt about bisexuals, he could have gotten himself into a bi (female) on bi (male) on straight-innocent-what-the-fuck-is-going-on-Frankie...could have been a wise decision to get the hell out of there.

Anonymous said...

Hi, very interesting post, greetings from Greece!

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