Saturday, May 14, 2005

Bogey

Graduation weekend, and here I am, still not graduated. So it is.

A man walks into the bar today, completely oblivious to the slew of black robes and proud parents, sits down, orders a Bud Lite, and cordially strikes up a conversation with me. It is apparent that this man, who introduces himself affectionately as "Bogey," has been drinking for a considerable period of time prior to meeting me at 11:30 am. It is also apparent that this man's nickname is quite appropriate. A bogey in golf, for those of you who don't know, is one over par, and this guy is way over par. And I'm not talkin' drinks. I immediately think: Charles Bukowski. For four (4) reasons. One, he began sucking back vodka/grapefruits at 6 am (because he's "an early riser") at Bennet's On The Park. Never been to Bennet's? Think greasy eggs and sloppy '70s porn. "Smut and Eggs," as they say. Boy is it a shithole. I may or may not have been to this place one time with my friend "Phil," and the owner of this place may or may not've been wearing this thing on his head that looked like a giant penis, and my other friend "Molly" may or may not have stolen said penis hat in a brilliant heist. Well, she actually just asked to try it on and never gave it back. But you know. The creme de la creme hang out there, let me tell you. While I have admittedly been there once or twice after accidentally staying up all night, the place is full of people who actually get up to go there and start drinking/watch disgusting people have sex on many little television screens. Had I not been half in the bag on these occasions, I'm sure this would be a lot less hilarious and a lot more depressing. The place is a scream, regardless of how you choose to look at it. Two, (now we're back to Bogey), he was reading Portrait of the Artist. He carries it around with him always. This is awesome, I think. I don't know many people who've gotten through that book, besides myself and 1/3 of my senior year English class. And yet this guy loves it! He'd talk your ear off about any other of a million topics also. Why is it that the smartest people always seem to be degenerates? Perhaps it's because they see this stink pile for what it is, and just don't give a shit. But I guess knowledge is a relative thing. Three, the guy is a frickin' mail carrier in Palatine, IL! I mean, come on! Four, he hit on anything with two breasts and teeth. And I mean anything. And he wasn't picky about the teeth thing.
Anyhow, the guy was a pleasure, and he ended up keeping me company all day, providing some much-needed levity from the preposterously-demanding onslaught of Coastie parents that bombarded me with outrageous requests without leaving anything for my troubles. And you wonder where those JAP girls get it from? Holy Christ. I almost stabbed a Jewish mother today, right through her gaudy alligator/rhinocerous-looking broach. Don't ask. There's only so much a man can take before resorting to grisly murder.

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