He Got Game
“Who he attractin’ with that line/ ‘What’s yo’ name/ what’s yo’ sign’…”
“Wifey” and I witnessed a patently weird experience last week as we went to a bar near the O.C. Unusually crowded for a weeknight, we were told we had to wait at least 30 minutes for a table. Concerned that there were no other bars nearby that would stay open as late as we planned to stay out (it was already 11 p.m.), we decided to wait it out. As we sat outside on a bench, seated unusually close to us was an odd fellow. His hair was done up and he was dressed in a dress shirt, dress khaki pants, tube socks, and “Zips” Velcro sneakers. These were the shoes that all of us idolized as five-year olds, with two horizontal Velcro strips across the front of the shoes and no laces; shoes which since 1990 have not been seen again except on the feet of 70-year old men with artificial hips. Furthermore, it occurred to us not long after this that “Zips” was rip-roaring drunk, working on no-doubt his fifth or sixth Long Island Iced Tea.
Thankfully, Zips did not hit on my companion, but did proceed to hit on nearly everything with a pulse outside the bar. After a poor excuse of a drunk dial to one of his friends, he attempted to hit on a small, Asian girl who was seated near us. What followed was one of the lowest moments in manhood history.
To put this in context, it was clear English was not the girl’s first language. Perhaps thinking he could use this as an advantage, Zips proceeded to utter every stereotypical lie in the book to bed this Eastern maiden. Here are all the audible lies that we heard:
First, Zips asked the girl for her name. After she responded, with what I hope was a fakie, Zips started to don a fake Euro-trash accent which, putting it nicely, was very unlike the voice we heard him use on his drunk-dial. He stated to the girl that his actual name was some 60s motto, like “Free Love,” or “Do what you want,” or “Do what feels good,” or something like that. In fact, I wish I could remember the exact words he said made up his name, but you get the drift. He reasoned that that was his name because that’s what people were going to do, anyway.
Then, he stated that he was from Ireland. To be exact, he continued, he was “from Dubland.” That’s not a typo. Not Dublin, but, I repeat, “Dubland.”
Zips continued to proceed with an extremely hollow account of his life in Ireland which sounded like it was taken straight from a movie. You would have thought he was a poor potato farmer coming to the U.S. to find the city where the streets were paved with gold. He stated that he loved America and was tired of "Dubland." He continued that things changed a lot in his “home country” when they converted from their native currency, the “Ire-lish” to the Euro. [Clearly by now, you don’t need me to tell you that there is no such thing as an Ire-lish, now or before 1999.] He said that he came here because it was more fun and he wanted to share more stories with her.
After trying to lay it on real thick, the girl got a “phone call” – real or concocted, only God will ever know – from her “friends” at the bar and ran away. After watching Zips strike out a few more times we went to our table to enjoy a few spirits of our own. I had to comment that even though we had just come from a movie, that was clearly the best show of the night.
“Wifey” and I witnessed a patently weird experience last week as we went to a bar near the O.C. Unusually crowded for a weeknight, we were told we had to wait at least 30 minutes for a table. Concerned that there were no other bars nearby that would stay open as late as we planned to stay out (it was already 11 p.m.), we decided to wait it out. As we sat outside on a bench, seated unusually close to us was an odd fellow. His hair was done up and he was dressed in a dress shirt, dress khaki pants, tube socks, and “Zips” Velcro sneakers. These were the shoes that all of us idolized as five-year olds, with two horizontal Velcro strips across the front of the shoes and no laces; shoes which since 1990 have not been seen again except on the feet of 70-year old men with artificial hips. Furthermore, it occurred to us not long after this that “Zips” was rip-roaring drunk, working on no-doubt his fifth or sixth Long Island Iced Tea.
Thankfully, Zips did not hit on my companion, but did proceed to hit on nearly everything with a pulse outside the bar. After a poor excuse of a drunk dial to one of his friends, he attempted to hit on a small, Asian girl who was seated near us. What followed was one of the lowest moments in manhood history.
To put this in context, it was clear English was not the girl’s first language. Perhaps thinking he could use this as an advantage, Zips proceeded to utter every stereotypical lie in the book to bed this Eastern maiden. Here are all the audible lies that we heard:
First, Zips asked the girl for her name. After she responded, with what I hope was a fakie, Zips started to don a fake Euro-trash accent which, putting it nicely, was very unlike the voice we heard him use on his drunk-dial. He stated to the girl that his actual name was some 60s motto, like “Free Love,” or “Do what you want,” or “Do what feels good,” or something like that. In fact, I wish I could remember the exact words he said made up his name, but you get the drift. He reasoned that that was his name because that’s what people were going to do, anyway.
Then, he stated that he was from Ireland. To be exact, he continued, he was “from Dubland.” That’s not a typo. Not Dublin, but, I repeat, “Dubland.”
Zips continued to proceed with an extremely hollow account of his life in Ireland which sounded like it was taken straight from a movie. You would have thought he was a poor potato farmer coming to the U.S. to find the city where the streets were paved with gold. He stated that he loved America and was tired of "Dubland." He continued that things changed a lot in his “home country” when they converted from their native currency, the “Ire-lish” to the Euro. [Clearly by now, you don’t need me to tell you that there is no such thing as an Ire-lish, now or before 1999.] He said that he came here because it was more fun and he wanted to share more stories with her.
After trying to lay it on real thick, the girl got a “phone call” – real or concocted, only God will ever know – from her “friends” at the bar and ran away. After watching Zips strike out a few more times we went to our table to enjoy a few spirits of our own. I had to comment that even though we had just come from a movie, that was clearly the best show of the night.
posted by TheRealDookie | 9:32 AM
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