A Brief History of our Universe

There’s always a history, but how much of it is liquor laced fiction, and how much of it is written by the victor? Perhaps that question is better left to conspiracy theorists. Hidden away somewhere are secrets, that only men with hats can discover. But they have to start somewhere, and there is a giant X on the map, with a notation next to it, “Big Boobs”.

Sometimes X’s get drawn on maps purely by accident, sometimes simply because you couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. But that’s where it started, inside Big Boobs. Racking up the balls, on the green velvet table, inside Silvie’s Tripple D’s. For a while we had Big Boobs all to our selves, it was our treasure securely tucked away on Irving street.

It seemed a place all our own. We owned Saturday nights, and any other day of the week we decided to adventure there. But eventually, the surgeon was called, the table was prepped, and the breast reduction was performed. It was a shocking moment, that time we first laid eyes on the resculpted Boobs. It was like everyone else now, decked out in ripped jeans and piercings, glow sticks, and awful, awful music.

Where were the Big Boobs? Where was that cavernous cleavage we danced around inside with abandon? Where was our five dollar jukebox whore? She was gone, replaced with a trendy clone. Some will tell you this is where the story fades, and the leads start to run dry. But the men with hats, the ones with the map, they know that with the birth of Silvie’s, came Caroline, oh wait, Caroline’s dead.

The trail did not grow cold, it shifted, and rooted itself inside Tiny A’s den. More evidence was hidden, tucked away inside those walls. Cryptic marks were etched into the floor. Men with hats might stare through their magnifying glass and remark, “Wana be Startin’ Something?”

But the tiny chapel couldn’t hold enough history, enough secrets. And once again, perhaps by accident, perhaps because there was no where else better to go, a new land of wonder was found. Hidden inside were boisterous spirits, a magical music beast, and one foul, lanky troll guarding the volume, known only as ‘Boobs on Head’. And Even though Caroline’s Dead, history seems to indicate that new life was found. That in this magical land, inhibitions were tossed aside, along with the occasional article of clothing, and people were gay, simply because of their shirt.

So late at night, while watching Men in hats on the Discovery Channel, you may hear one of them say, “It was here, that the eternal burning question was answered, one only a few men have been privy to witness one woman say to another, ‘But if you were a lesbian…’”.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words...

The Rockstar Cometh

It was one night at Gannon's, many months ago...the three of us were celebrating Tiny A's birthday. We imbibed our usual amount of drinks and the jukebox was ours. J headed up to the bar to order some shots of Grandpatime, while Tiny A and I rocked out in our chairs and screamed up some conversation. J was gone quite a while and when we finally noticed this, it became apparent that he was signing autographs. Tonight he was the drummer for Nine Inch Nails and upon mentioning this to a few people sitting at the bar, he was asked for his John Hancock. I can still picture the adorable Asian woman's face as she received a signed napkin for her brother who is a big fan - she was overflowing with happiness. J is never one to refuse an autograph for a fan. Tiny A and I considered ourselves lucky to be drinking with a rockstar, and we kept them coming until they turned on the brutal lights. Afterwards we headed to the Flying Pancake and shoved our faces. Our waittress didn't know who she was serving, even after being told countless times. Her loss, she could have had an autographed napkin worth thousands of dollars. We finished up the night the way rockstars and groupies should, by stripping naked and running down the street...Damn it feels good to be a rockstar.

The Case of the Missing Cigarettes

Well it was another night at Gannon's, not too long ago, and the three of us had been there for a few hours. The music was of our choice and therefore incredible, and the drinks were in steady supply as usual. I knew that I had most of a pack of Camel Lights left but couldn't seem to find it anywhere....I searched and searched and J asked the people sitting at a table near us. One guy responded "well she threw a pack over here about an hour ago" Nonsense. I do not throw my pack of cigarettes across Gannon's - must have been Drangela, she gets like a madwoman when she drinks...Needless to say, the image of me throwing my cigarettes across the room is hysterical. I wonder if I hit anyone? That would have made it worthwhile.