I don't think Simmons or Ingram is some kind of franchise savior. Simmons is a great fit as a 4 in the modern NBA though because he can guard inside and on the perimeter, rebound, handle the ball like a guard, and score inside. Even if he never develops a reliable jumper, he is still going to be a very valuable player. I see him as a better version of Draymond Green who can create offense on his own much better than Green.
I learned of Whiskey Tango's demise after a fantasy football draft last Friday. We were already drinking beer and pigging out on pizza, so we figured that it would be fun to make the short trip to the bar and continue our carousing there.
Unfortunately, when we pulled into the parking lot - I ate tons of pizza and was unwilling to make the 10-minute walk - we immediately noticed that there were barely any cars there. The lights were also on in the bar, and it looked like they were doing some sort of construction. We were about to go elsewhere, but my friend Adrienne suggested that we should check out Whiskey Tango's sports bar in the back. It was a great call because that section of the place was open.
There was barely anyone in there, however. About 12 dudes and six girls sat at the bar. Three of the chicks were there for some sort of birthday gathering. The only bartender was this really hot woman, who was anywhere between 28-34 years old. She was a short brunette with a cute face and a nice body. I thought I should ask her what was going on for some Jerks of the Week material:
Me: Hey, what's going on with all of this construction?
Hot Bartender: They're closing Whiskey Tango down and re-opening it as more of a restaurant like Chickie's & Pete's.
Me: Really? That sucks. I've been coming here for years.
Hot Bartender: Years? What are you, like 25?
Me: No... I'm 29! Almost 29-and-a-half!
OK, I lied. I just turned 29, so I'm not almost 29-and-a-half. But I just figured the half part might impress her. It did not.
Hot Bartender: Well, this place has been losing business for years. It used to be really popular, but now with the economy, people are just going to their local bars instead of driving here for more expensive drinks.
Me: That makes sense.
Hot Bartender: Yeah, it sucks because I'm going to lose my job.
Me: That blows.
Hot Bartender: They're hiring young, blond girls in their early 20s.
See, that would have been my cue to say something smooth like, "That's ridiculous, you'd fit right in with those blond girls." Unfortunately, I was too drunk at the time to think that quickly. Instead, all I managed was an, "Oh... that sucks." After an awkward silence, Hot Bartender handed me my beer, and I slumped back to the booth.
It was time for another beer about 30 minutes later. After ordering, I told Hot Bartender about my Web site, particularly the Jerks of the Week section. She said that I could use our conversation, just as long as I didn't mention her name.
Again, this would have been my cue to say something cool like, "Well, I don't know your name," but I was distracted by something shiny. I looked down, and noticed that she had what appeared to be a wedding ring on her left finger. Completely confused, I handed her the money for the beer and went back to the booth.
Here was the problem - I don't really know what wedding rings even look like. Hell, I don't even know if they're called wedding rings. Engagement rings? Marriage rings? Bah. And what's the difference between a wedding/engagement/marriage ring and other rings that women usually wear? I can't be the only one befuddled by this. Look at any woman's hands, and she has like eight rings on her fingers. Which one is the wedding/engagement/marriage ring, and which ones aren't? I'm sure this has perplexed men for ages.
Desperate for help, I looked to see if the three girls at our table were wearing rings. Man-Eaters, engaged to forum mod Injured Reserve, was wearing a ring on the same finger as Hot Bartender. Unfortunately, I was too drunk to piece the puzzle together.
Man-Eaters is wearing a ring too! All girls wear rings, so maybe Hot Bartender isn't engaged or married. I should ask Hot Bartender out!
Five minutes later...
Oh wait... Man-Eaters is engaged. Crap. That means Hot Bartender is engaged or married too.
Damn it, there should be some sort of a book or a guideline to help drunk people such as myself through this type of situation.
Hot Bartender, if you happen to be reading this, maybe you should write this book or guideline if Whiskey Tango does indeed let you go. It would be a best-seller. Well, I know I'd buy at least one copy.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 2: Racist KKK Bikers
I've never fully discussed the Racist KKK Bikers at Whiskey Tango. I've only mentioned them in passing, but in honor of Whiskey Tango closing down, it's finally time to give them the space they deserve in the Jerks of the Week section.
First, a quick background. I call these grizzled, old bike-riders "Racist KKK Bikers" because one had a swastika tattooed on his arm. One other guy pestered one of my friends as he walked into Whiskey Tango several years ago. I wasn't there, but I was told the conversation went something like this:
Racist KKK Biker: Hey, you, do you have $15 you can loan me?
Friend: Umm... no.
Racist KKK Biker: What are you, a f***ing Jew, or something?
Yeah, because anyone unwilling to loan a complete stranger $15 should be considered cheap.
Anyway, a whole group of racist KKK bikers stormed into Whiskey Tango's sports bar around midnight. Since I'm white, and not black, Asian, Native American, Canadian, or any other race that may or may not exist, I figured I was safe. Actually, forget safe; one of the Racist KKK Bikers was really kind to me.
I went to the bathroom at one point. As I walked in, a fat Racist KKK Biker was coming out. I held the door for him, but then he held the door for me. The following exchange ensued:
Me: Go ahead.
Racist KKK Biker: No, you go ahead.
Me: No, it's OK, go ahead.
Racist KKK Biker: It's fine, you go ahead.
Me: No, you.
Racist KKK Biker: No, you.
Me: No, you.
Racist KKK Biker: No, you.
Me: No, you.
Racist KKK Biker: No, I insist.
Me: Thanks, but I insist.
Racist KKK Biker: No, I insisted first.
Me: I insist more.
Racist KKK Biker: Please, I must really insist.
Me: OK, OK, if you really insist.
We seriously stood there for two minutes trying to get the other to go first. It was ridiculous. While peeing, I thought, These guys commit hate crimes as their day job, but maybe they're really nice people when they go out at night.
My theory was squashed after I finished my business in the bathroom. As I was washing my hands, two Racist KKK Bikers at the urinals started yelling:
Racist KKK Biker: This is a stick-up!
Racist KKK Biker No. 2: This a doggone stick up!
Racist KKK Biker: Dis dar-gone stick up!
They weren't yelling at me as far as I could tell, but I thought it would be a good idea if I bolted out of there as quickly as possible. If they were as drunk as I was, they may have mistaken me for a black person, an Asian, or even a Canadian.
And I really don't need to tell you how much Racist KKK Bikers hate Canadians.
JERK OF THE WEEK NO. 3: Drunkest Woman Ever
I mentioned earlier that there were about six women at Whiskey Tango last Friday night. One of them was a blond chick on the other side of the bar. She looked great from afar - she wore a short yellow shirt that exposed her stomach, and really short jean shorts. She was sitting with some dudes, so I didn't try to game her. Besides, I was more focused on figuring out if Hot Bartender was engaged/married or not.
At one point during the night, some girl came around trying to sell flowers to us. While she was giving us the usual guilt trip - "Are you sure there's no one special you want to buy the flowers for?" - the blond chick scurried over from the other side of the bar to make a purchase.
It was at this moment that I was able to get a good look at her. She was about 45, and it looked like she had clown makeup spray painted on her face, almost as if she escaped from a circus. Not that I blame her; despite all of the makeup, I could still see several massive craters on her ugly mug. Meh, I'd still bang her.
Apparently, banging this monstrosity would have been extremely easy because she was the drunkest person I've ever seen in my life. I wish I could have tape recorded the conversation she had with the flower vendor, but here's how it went:
Flower Vendor: Do you want to buy a rose?
Drunkest Woman Ever: I wannnn buy flloooweerr.
Flower Vendor: They are $10 each.
Drunkest Woman Ever: I dunnn wannnn carnnasshuun!!
Flower Vendor: We have flowers other than carnations.
Flower Vendor: Elephant? Well, I know you don't like carnations.
Drunkest Woman Ever was referring to the tiny stuffed animals tied to some of the flowers. She rummaged through the flowers, looking for an elephant, but ultimately settled on a lion.
Flower Vendor told her it would be $10. Drunkest Woman Ever reached into her pocket, but couldn't retrieve the money because her shorts were so tight. She then started squatting and doing weird gymnastics maneuvers to retrieve the $10 bill.
I lost it. I started laughing so hard that I had to turn away and cover up my face. Everyone at the table then laughed because I was cracking up. Maybe I was drunk, but it was easily one of the top 10 funniest things I've ever seen in my life. The way this woman was squatting and shifting around just to get the money out of her tight short shorts was ridiculous.
After Drunkest Woman Ever paid up and walked away, Flower Vendor softly punched me on the shoulder.
Flower Vendor: Stop laughing! You're going to get me fired!
Me (Still Laughing): I can't - oh my God - I can't stop laughing. That woman was so drunk, and her shorts were so tight.
Flower Vendor: Stop it!
Me (Still Laughing): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Fortunately, this wasn't the last we saw of Flower Vendor. When the bar closed up, I gave my Web site name to Hot Bartender and told her to check out this Jerks of the Week entry the following Monday (i.e. today). Adrienne, Jess and I then went to Wawa to grab something to eat. To my delight, Drunkest Woman Ever was already there.
This shouldn't come as a surprise, but Drunkest Woman Ever was having issues with the ordering console. She was randomly mashing the buttons on the screen. I didn't think anything of it at first, but she spent a good three minutes just randomly hitting buttons with a confused and frustrated look on her face.
Moments after she finally finished ordering, the old woman behind the counter looked at her quizzically.
Wawa Worker: You just want oil and vinegar?
Drunkest Woman Ever: Oiilll nn vinnggarrr?
Wawa Worker: That's what you ordered. You just want oil and vinegar on your roll, and that's it?
Drunkest Woman Ever: I liieeek oilll nn viinnngguurrr.
Drunkest Woman Ever went toward the back to buy herself a drink. The old lady behind the counter then looked at me and remarked, "I think that lady is a little drunk."