Turf Wars at Bars: THE Pressing Issue of Our Time

I just came back from 90 West, a bar approximately 450 feet from my apartment. Why do I live 450 feet from a bar you may ask? Exactly.

But I did hear something that astounded me when I was at the bar a few minutes ago. First off, this bar is small and quaint, but has a very loyal following. It's kind of like the Moe's from The Simpsons. Same 8 people there. Same smell of skunked beer and arm pit. Oh, and this one dude, Chris (complete Type A personality, firm handshake, loud, probably obnoxious, my guess works in sales or retails douche bags as a side project) goes, "this beer tastes like ass." Ha Ha...how does that dude know what ass tastes like?* Probably the same guy who says, "lick my balls, faggot!" Contradiction of terms, possibly?

Anywho, so the female bartender (who'd I'd definitely bone) starts talking about why they don't serve hard liquor. Her theory was that they don't serve hard alcohol because it would start turf wars between bars. Basically, liquor gets you sicker. And if someone such as myself who is new to the bar shows up after a rowdy 90 West crowd is 8 shots-a-patron deep, I'd get my ass kicked.

Apparently, territory and turf isn't specific to just gangs out here. I don't get that. If the bartender's theory has any truth to it, I think it speaks to a greater truth about ourselves. A truth that is full of individualism. A truth that leads to ego, and eventually, to comments like, "this beer tastes like ass."

But there is another truth out there I think. A truth about our desire to help. A desire to see the parts work together for a greater whole. Just as negative begets negative, I believe the opposite is certainly true. I know the opposite is true in fact. Everytime somebody tells me they read this thing, I'm inspired more and more. We're designed to work and live and play and yes, fornicate, together.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f6J3OD4Z0UQ

*it tastes like maple syrup

My Dog Got Offered Sex This Morning

Seriously. The time was 7:14am. I was by the mulched area with the plants that enter the storage place next to my apartment. Seconds later, an Asian man appeared with 2 dogs. My dog pulled from me with strength, a habit she doesn't break when greeted by other animals. I pulled back in defiance. Or was it jealousy?

My daughter is Minna Cross. My pit bull mix. A 2-year-old renegade of a dog. She has energy, can be a hellion, but is sweet as can be. A truly beautiful animal. The 2 dogs walking by...also quite beautiful. The 1 animal was a brindle, just like mine. Kind of like the Cincinnati Bengals' Mascot.

The man and I exchanged kind, semi-awkward conversation, and after about 20 seconds of broken, unassertive Asian-accented conversation, the gentlemen asked if my dog was spade. I guess I said she was a she at some point during our brief encounter, or he had been eyeing up my animal for a while, watching me walk her on a regular schedule, following Minna during her daily routes to relieve herself, standing outside my shower. Who knows, really? Nonetheless, he jumped on it, and posed the statement, "I'm looking to breed my dog."

I awkwardly chuckled, and said something equally on-point, "Oh ok." Good work, comedian.

It took me a few seconds as I walked back to my apartment gate with animal feces wrapped in the LA Times newspaper until I realized this dude had just propositioned my Minna Cross for sex. I guess he didn't proposition her for himself. That'd just be way too Alabama. But he propositioned me - for Minna - for his dog. I wondered if somehow, with only 3 more degrees to go, we could connect this audacious proposition to Kevin Bacon.

Thinking back, I feel quite honored. I mean, Minna Cross is my kin. I did birth her. Or paid $100 from a kennel. Because, to own a good looking animal is a true feeling of pride.

PS- If this article didn't make you laugh, just take a brief look at the tag words I used.

No Need To Beat Around The Bush

No, the headline wasn't intended to be a dirty joke for once. Although, sexual innuendos are usually peppered throughout my prose.

The best part to come out of the economic crisis is watching people self-actualize. Screw comfort...take risk. Screw cudgels...be straight up.

I'm a big fan of those people who wear shirts that say, "Hire Me." I hate to admit it, but in some ways, that person deserves a job over me. It takes some balls I suppose to wear that, and at least based on that, he or she wants it more.

I have this problem. I'm apprehensive a lot of times. I like to handle things and deal with people in a nice way. I also don't like to be sure of myself. Because I'm worried that by being so sure of myself, I close off questioning. And questioning can be very valuable.

So there's got to be a middle ground I think. Or at least, times to be sure and times to question. Oh, a time...

Maybe the best answer or at least the most logical one lies in the depths of honesty. How do I feel? And why do I feel it? If I can interpret and understand this, maybe I can make the wisest decision.

The other part to it is balls. And maybe this isn't as rational. Guts. Fortitude. Whatever. It's the ability to not give in to impending embarrassment.

Last week, I did a comedy show where the comedian before went up and trashed a bunch of the other comedians for not listening to each other's set. They stood outside and chatted it up. They left after their own set. This comedian also made sure to have the emcee announce that he was performing at the Improv the following Thursday, as if the 8 people left in the room (including myself) really cared.

Now, did the comedian have a point? Maybe. But why trash everybody in an open mic night that has 25 comedians on the bill in a room that is only comedians. Many had heard each other's sets. Also, no one gets paid for these open mics. People have to pay rent. Point or no point, this guy was harsh.

So, what did I do? Maybe not making the most conscious decision, but not being scared to fight back a little, the first thing I said was, "that guy was kind of a dick." Now, that may have not been the best decision for me. I made a small room feel a little more awkward. I also probably made enemies with this guy. But guess what? The guy was being a dick. It wasn't pretty. But I said my peace. Better than holding back. Next time, I'll be more articulate maybe. I'll address it in a different way. But at least I didn't beat around the bush.