When Good Men Go Football...

One night at Gannon's close to one month ago...the three of us were up to our usual antics of drinking and owning the jukebox. All was well and we were having a grand time when a certain person showed up with some thug friends and the night quickly turned sour. Football was the topic of conversation and since Jas is not a Bears fan, things did not go so well. A scary fight almost occurred and too many shots of tequila were swallowed...
This was not our usual night at Gannon's and due to the circumstances we may not go there for a while...what a SAD post.
One Night at Gannon's - to be continued?????

Everyone Secretly Loves Michael Jackson

One night at Gannon's...last Friday to be exact, TinyA, Drangela, and Jas were there to celebrate an accomplishment of Drangela's - the details aren't important, but it consists of more than drinking her ass off... Anyway, we had some drinks and then hit the jukebox square in the nuts. We played rockin' favorites like Part Time Lover, Jukebox Hero, and some Michael Jackson, of course. To our great surprise, as Man in the Mirror blared from the speakers, every mother fucker in the joint was singing along - EVERYONE! It was like being in a surreal music video. I couldn't believe it - an incredible sight indeed. We met some other 80's lovers and our two tables rocked out in unison. That place never ceases to amaze me. It is just an ordinary bar, in an ordinary neighborhood, yet it somehow becomes so much more, and so it was...another lovely night at Gannon's.

Hey Summer, Wanna Play me?

A few weeks ago TinyA and I went to Gannon's to celebrate her big three-oh. We were sitting at a table talking nonstop as usual when a familiar face walked up to our table. I smiled and said hello and TinyA looked at me as if I invited him ahead of time to our festivities. Lo and behold, it was Napoleon fucking Dynamite - just a little more grown up with red hair and extremely intoxicated! He sat with us and bought us drinks and talked mostly about the White Sox. Much to my dismay he didn't mention that summer in Alaska hunting wolverines with his uncle or brag about his numchuck skills. But he was entertaining and surprisingly cool to have around, up until the point when he kept trying to hold my hand...
Later we headed to the Flying Pancake for some shitty food. The food was, well shitty, and we both received an unnecessarily large side of scary that neither of us ordered. Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Booty Booty Booty Booty.

We are the Drunks

Last Friday TinyA and I headed to Gannon's while the sun was still shining. It was very strange to see the place all lit up by the outside world. Jas joined us later and had some catching up to do, which basically meant we all drank faster - never a good idea. We played some banger music from the eighties - Twisted Sister, Motley Crue, and of course our usual array of songs that couldn't possibly be more eclectic. We were pleased that there were two different bartenders working who had never seen the likes of us before. A blonde who was on top of both bartending and keeping our drinks coming, and then later a young guy who seemed to like our taste in music and obliged us by turning up the volume several times. No crabby Smiths guy, no ditzy stoned case of amnesia, and no medical student who hates fun drunks... It was a whole new Gannnons and we loved every minute of it. Afterwards we headed to TinyA's and practiced what will soon become the one-hit wonder remake of Caroline's Dead - We Are the World. After eight or nine times, I think we were starting to have it down. We are the Gannon's. We are the grab-your-ankle-and-jump-backwards-dancers. We are the ones who ask you to turn the music up for every new song that comes on.... Come on sing along, you know the words.

In Our Own Little World

I cannot express how much I LOVE the fact that the last time we were at Gannon's for Jas' birthday we took pictures like maniacs! TinyA counted 90-something which doesn't include the fifteen or so that I took. So there we were drunk as anything and snapping pictures in dark Gannon's - the flash going off every few seconds - screaming our retard version of "cheese" and completely oblivious to the fact that Gannon's was packed. It was our bar that night, and no one could tell us otherwise - and even if they did we weren't listening...

They scare me...

Tiny-A picked us up sometime between 6:30, and I don't know when. We careened our way to my birthday, I had suggested sushi, and Tiny-A knew the spot. You can always tell a good sushi joint the minute you walk in. Japanese staff, check, Japanese decor, check, 2 dozen Red Hat Ladies? It was a small place, almost a hole in the wall, but what the hell where the Red Hats doing there?

I couldn't help but feel out of place, uneasy, even scared. Something about the grizzled old hags sent shivers down my spine. I half expected them to suddenly transform in B-Movie monsters and start eating the staff with over sized teeth, and clown faces. They had apparently ordered everything on the menu, and with upturned noses they picked and prodded at their food. I couldn't help but watch, thinking that at any moment, my birthday dinner would suddenly turn into a 'Killer Klowns From Outerspace' sequel.

Tiny-A recalled some brief stories of her mother, who had at one time almost joined their cult. I wondered what dastardly plans she had been privy to, what strange bizarre rituals had she seen. And most of all, I wondered where one buys that many red sequins. But we ate, our stomachs growling. We devoured our rolls, Dragons, Spiders, the city of Philadelphia, and the entire state of California. Our belly's happily sedated, it was time to unleash the beast.

Tiny-A floored it, a little rocket, we flew to her place, to park the vehicle. It was time, Gannon's was calling. A quick, chilly walk brought us before the door. I could almost hear a collective sigh, "Oh great, it's them", as we walked in. Only one table remained, off in the back, pinned in between the others, but it would do until we could snatch another.

Duty called, I asked Baby to order for me. A few minutes later, I was ready, but we had forgotten one crucial piece of the puzzle, jukebox money. Tiny-A and Baby said they'd be right back, they headed to the ATM outside. They stood outside, barely visible through the window for a minute, I turned away, looked back, and they were gone. Our drinks came, but they were no where to be found. I began to get worried, and then they walked in, with a surprise. Baby sauntered down the bar giggling, holding a shiny balloon, "Happy 18th Birthday".

Of course the whole bar looked, and wondered. I was embarrassed a bit, I must say. But it was fitting. The drinks were flowing, and a new table opened up. We moved to our new spot, and proceeded to get retarded. The night is now blurry from this point on. I remember talking to the random people behind us, taking a dozen retarded pics, trying to get Tiny-A and Baby to make out. I lost track of how many drinks we had, but apparently it was just enough to make me pass out.

On a scale of one to ten...

And so last night the three of us celebrated Jas' 30th birthday at our favorite place. It was a great time, and I think that Jas really enjoyed drinking his way into his thirties, so to speak. So according to our current waitress, whose name escapes me even after Jas asked her what it was several times last night, Erin, our old waitress, hates us. But Marty the Smiths-loving bartender does not in fact hate us. And on a scale of one to ten, according to ditzy-waitress-whats-her-name we are a 5 on the irritating scale. Not bad. Although I don't really believe her, as she has to pretend to like us to get a decent tip. Overall it was a fun and much needed night out at Gannon's, lots of pictures were taken, and lots of sentences were repeated. It was gorgeous.