STRAIGHT FROM THE MUT

EMak's buddy (with hostage)So this past weekend I was down in St. Louis for the Giants/Rams game with my buddy EMak and his friend.  Friday night we hit some lounge.  Talk about three idiots with no game going out together.  First of all, EMak is about as stable as Uranium-236. I don't know if its ADD, ADHD or a skull first dive off the changing table as a baby, but he makes Britney Spears look like Walter Kronkite.  Its literally easier to hold a conversation with my 5 month old daughter. "EMak did you see the Cardinal game?" "Yes, they played well and of course I like sushi and she never called me back. I paid $375 a gallon to fill up and... what were you saying? Meanwhile, our other buddy, while free of any mental defect, belongs on an MTV reality show. And not one of the flattering ones.  More like "Rock of Douchebag".  "Yo, son, you bests be ready to rage this weekend." Dude, you went to Cornell and play video games.  Why are you talking like you're Vanilla Ice's road manager?

Anyway, saturday, we headed downtown to eat wings, watch college football and eat wings. And nachos. The first place we went to was eh. It was the kind of a sports bar with waitresses wearing basically nothing but lingerie, which is really hot at a club in Vegas, but being in a dump in St. Louis, just looked like a cross between a bunch of overweight strippers and some beer venders from Busch Stadium At least the bartender was pretty hot...  

After the first games ended, we decided to try to find another bar. We found this place down the street and went in. Something didn't seem right, but the crowd seemed alright, so we downed some shots and ordered a round of beers. We noticed a couple of girls looking at us, smiling and laughing. EMak decided to go over and say hello. He walked over, talked to them for a few seconds, and then came back to report the news. "They're laughing at us because we don't know where we are." "What do you me-" And then it hit me. The Mardi Gras theme. The feathered masks all over the bar. The friendly and quite dashing man to my left. "More shots, gentleman?", the bartender in the newly noticeable leather vest asked. The girls lesbians could not stop laughing at us. "I'm in a fucking gay bar. Again." All these dudes were staring at us. At least my hair looked good.   So we said fuck it,  We sat down and finished our beers.  And tried to blend in.  You tell me....

Saturday night we went to East St. Louis to a strip club.  The place was awful.  It took us 20 minutes to finally get a girl to pay us any attention.  Although that's probably more of a reflection on us than the club.  You know you're not doing so well when you can't get a stripper to come over to your table.  As you wave frantically at her.  With a hand full of twenties.  I suggested we head back to the gay bar.  

We finally got a girl to come over to us. I loved her. She was from Hungary, I was hungry.  Instant chemistry.  She gave our other buddy a dance ("yo baby, you want to get down on this?"), and after some witty banter from me, I was set for mine.  But just then she was stolen away from my heart as she was called on stage.  Some guys had paid for her to grind on some bachelor right on stage as he sat there with no shirt on and his pants undone.  In front of a whole room of guys.  I highly suggest this guy fire his best man.  So I didn't get my dance.  We said fuck it and called it a night.

Sunday, we went to the game, and then hit the Lumiere Casino right there on the river.  The place was nice, but as a casino it sucked.  You can't get more than $500 worth of chips in any two hour period .  I haven't been that upset since I was told the buffet at the White Sox games isn't unlimited.  Everyone there plays $10 a hand, I was playing $50, which of course, in my mind, allowed me to act like James Bond hanging out in Monte Carlo. me: "I'll take a Martini, shaken not stirred." waitress: "How bout a Bud Light?"  After an hour of winning hands (+$375 woo hoo) and NOT being treating like a British agent, I was ready to go.  Plus I was flying Southwest and not the RAF, so I needed to be there 60 minutes prior to departure.

And so ended my weekend in St. Louis.