superchristx
Senior Don Juan
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2004
- Messages
- 216
- Reaction score
- 4
This is an ongoing problem I have when trying to tell stories, of which I have a lot. My stories are good, with lots of little funny quirks and getting side-tracked, but the ending always falls flat, or leaves them wondering what happened next. I'm going to tell a story now, to take up space and put this jonks in context. I have told this story dozens of times and it is a true story. Notice how I use a lot of details to make the story vivid. You can steal this story if you want but NOT IF YOU ARE IN THE WASHINGTON DC AREA! This is my turf you got it?
So I've just moved into a neighborhood in southeast DC near Eastern MKT. And me and my pal decide we need to do a bar crawl, to check the territory. The FIRST bar we go to is a windowless wooden front, painted dark red called Phase One. Inside the drinks were normal price for the area, and the ratio was above average. The decor was kinda like an independent theater, with black paint and exposed scaffolding.
There is a girl on the mic, and she says that tonight is open mike night, and that she is going to sing a little song. Her friend is going up next but doesn't want to go directly after her. She has sort-of indicated that she wants somebody to jump up, but nobody is volunteering. I raise my hand and say 'I'll sing a song!' she calls me moustachio and sings her song, plays the guitar at the same time. She's good I guess it wasn't my kind of music, some of that girly emo crap. I drink my whisky and listen.
Now it's my turn to go up there, I've been trying to think of what song I could do. I walk up to the stage and think to myself, Jonny Cash? GNR? I grab the mic and look out at the bar, and notice that they are all women, and that they all have short hair. I realized that I was in a dyke bar. I finish up my song, a cappella, and me and home-boy book out of there. We finish the bar crawl and get a bit plastered, and on the way home we decide to make a stop at the old Phase 1, just to prove that we knew all along that it was a dyke bar and we were totally cool with it. I start chatting up a skinny spanish girl with bad teeth, and homeboy is talking to a fat white girl, also with bad teeth. We leave after a bit, and roomie gets a text from someone named "leslie" because he thought that was what every woman in that bar was named. It was his girl, the big girl with bad teeth, and it read:
"I would totally have both of you tonight."
And to top it all off, I found 20 bucks in the gutter on the way home! How's that for an awesome night?!
I don't say what song I sang because I know they'll ask if they're in the least bit interested. It was Whirlpool by They Might Be Giants, which is a very simple, stripped down little ditty that sounds good with a low voice. It's hard not to waver in a room full of stone-faced bull-dykes wearing faded jeans and wife-beaters. I tack that ending, the $20 ending, on any story I want to, even if someone has heard me say it a thousand times, by then it's just a lovable idiosynchrasy.
So I've just moved into a neighborhood in southeast DC near Eastern MKT. And me and my pal decide we need to do a bar crawl, to check the territory. The FIRST bar we go to is a windowless wooden front, painted dark red called Phase One. Inside the drinks were normal price for the area, and the ratio was above average. The decor was kinda like an independent theater, with black paint and exposed scaffolding.
There is a girl on the mic, and she says that tonight is open mike night, and that she is going to sing a little song. Her friend is going up next but doesn't want to go directly after her. She has sort-of indicated that she wants somebody to jump up, but nobody is volunteering. I raise my hand and say 'I'll sing a song!' she calls me moustachio and sings her song, plays the guitar at the same time. She's good I guess it wasn't my kind of music, some of that girly emo crap. I drink my whisky and listen.
Now it's my turn to go up there, I've been trying to think of what song I could do. I walk up to the stage and think to myself, Jonny Cash? GNR? I grab the mic and look out at the bar, and notice that they are all women, and that they all have short hair. I realized that I was in a dyke bar. I finish up my song, a cappella, and me and home-boy book out of there. We finish the bar crawl and get a bit plastered, and on the way home we decide to make a stop at the old Phase 1, just to prove that we knew all along that it was a dyke bar and we were totally cool with it. I start chatting up a skinny spanish girl with bad teeth, and homeboy is talking to a fat white girl, also with bad teeth. We leave after a bit, and roomie gets a text from someone named "leslie" because he thought that was what every woman in that bar was named. It was his girl, the big girl with bad teeth, and it read:
"I would totally have both of you tonight."
And to top it all off, I found 20 bucks in the gutter on the way home! How's that for an awesome night?!
I don't say what song I sang because I know they'll ask if they're in the least bit interested. It was Whirlpool by They Might Be Giants, which is a very simple, stripped down little ditty that sounds good with a low voice. It's hard not to waver in a room full of stone-faced bull-dykes wearing faded jeans and wife-beaters. I tack that ending, the $20 ending, on any story I want to, even if someone has heard me say it a thousand times, by then it's just a lovable idiosynchrasy.
