Monday, November 3, 2008


Yesterday I met up with my brother, his girlfriend (the ex is now the current again!) and their rather boorish, yet fun friends to watch the Bears game. Although I'm not much of a football fan these days, I am a fan of drinking during Sunday afternoons. Plus, I hadn't seen my brother in a few weeks, so I figured, why not? It all sounded fine and dandy until I was told which bar to meet up at, specifically a place called "Cans" (so named because they are famous for...wait for it...serving cans of beer!).

Despite the fact that this bar is located in the uber-trendy 'hood called Wicker Park, I went, and mostly had a good time. Plus, the Bears won! Like I said before, I am not a huge football fan so I tended to watch the other bar patrons as much as the game (plus some fucking meathead was blocking the 60" plasma, seriously, how is that even possible?). So, here are a few observations I made.


Since I wasn't born until 1979, I was not a part of the "hey-day" of gay culture in the 70's. Still, I know enough to know that if you walk around with a light blue hanky in your right back pocket, it's a sign that your looking to suck cock. This was obviously not told to the straight (or seemingly so) guy in his 20's that decided to put a light blue hanky in his jeans pocket. UGH. Get a fucking clue! Or...get on your knees. For more potential hanky related fashion disasters, please consult this handy chart.


Well, no shit Sherlock. When new Roomie first got here I took him down to Wrigleyville to hang out in some of the bars while the Cubs were playing a game. He was appalled at the level of inebriation on display at 2 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon. "Do people always drink like this?" he asks me. Right on cue, some dude ate shit while walking into the bathroom. Anyways, back to yesterday. Let's list the contents of the tab generated by 5 men, and 1 woman:

-43 cans of Miller Lite
-13 cans of PBR
-3 cans of Coors (who the fuck was drinking Coors?)

Even at $2 a can, the tab was north of $125. No one batted an eyelash. Perhaps even more surprising is that no one seemed even slightly drunk. In fact, several people jumped into their cars and went home, or in one case, to another bar (what? my brother made me!).


Speaking of drunk people, it's best not be around them when they lose their starting quarterback. Although Kyle Orton (a.k.a. Neck Beard) was far from an ideal starter, it's generally agreed that he's much, much better then the loathed Rex Grossman (a.k.a. Sexy Rexy, a.k.a. The Cum Slinger). Well, in the 3rd quarter Orton fucked his leg up and was carted off the field. The dudes in the bar WERE NOT HAPPY. Holy Shit. You would have thought that the Nazi's were invading. Thankfully, Rex didn't fuck up too bad, and we managed to win. Which is a good thing because had we not, the bar probably would have been burned to the ground.


Just to the left of the huge TV, an attractive guy was sitting at the bar. He had kind of a Russian look to him, which I find super hot because it reminds of my high school crush. He sat speaking to no one, quietly sipping his beer and watching the game. Then I noticed the grossly unattractive behemoth sitting next to him. Wearing a Jets jersey (?). I watched in horror was Hot Guy laid his head on her shoudler. Then, like retarded kittens, they would press their noses together. But the final draw was when Hot Guy inserted his finger into his mouth, and gave his girlfriend a wet willy. I am not shitting you. Stifling the urge to spew PBR on my brother and his friends, and I went out for a smoke. UGH. I still have the image in my head, and it's NOT pretty.


Not that that should be surprising, in fact it's common knowledge. At first, I didn't even realize the reason why this guy next to our table was acting like such a douche bag. That was until my bro's GF pointed out that this guy and his friend would go into the bathroom together in 20 minute intervals. I'm not one to call people out on their personal vices, but if you need an 8 ball to get through a football game on a Sunday afternoon, it's probably time to seek treatment. If you're not willing to, at least SHUT THE FUCK UP and don't talk to strangers. or at the least, it's a good idea to avoid my brother's friends when they are watching football unless you want to your ass handed to you (which nearly happened).

All in all, it was a lovely Sunday afternoon.


Silly Billy said...

Def more fun than my Sunday afternoon.

meshugener said...

So are we ever going to find out why you were so bummed in your last post and what has been going on the last two weeks?

Cockbag LLC said...

Yes Chicagoan's are DRUNKS and this St. Louisan loves it when he goes up there. In September I consumed at least 14 beers which I rarely do anymore.

BTW we have a place similar to Cans called the Tin Can but the prices are a bit ridiculous but I still love the place and the food.

Dammit why is this glass of wine kicking my butt tonight.

Thomas said...

Holy shit, Chicago is the American version of Montreal! Loud cocaine addicts? Drunk people at all hours? Ugly and hot people hand-in-hand. Feeeeeels liiikeee home.

I never knew about this handkerchief code but now I love it since it's become a fad things for unknowing punks and hipsters to carry a handkerchief sticking out of their back pockets. Some stores even sell them attached into the pocket. Suffice to say, that's pretty lame. If I recall, the color was always purple which according to the nifty chart means everyone who buys those pair of pants is into piercings or navel fetish (um, navel fetish?).