The Land of Dick and Honey (and cheese fries)

3 Mar

The best cheese fries come from the best potatoes!

The week of February 21 was the worst week ever. It knows why.

It should be ritualistically beaten for all the awful shit it subjected me to, not least of which was leaving me too dejected to post. In short, I was having a rough time, when suddenly I had the insight to call a friend of mine.  I shall call this friend, “My friend who is superhuman and can run 5 minute miles and has a PhD,” because that is true. And it is also fucking impressive. So I call my friend who is superhuman and can run 5 minute miles and has a PhD and I tell her what’s been going on.  Despite being superhuman, she sympathizes (her race is also good at empathy). She tells me the people involved in the perpetration of the great week of February 21 are without exception unconscionable pricks, and should all be subjected to 5 years of graduate school in the nearest prairie state without possibility of parole. She also tells me she has a solution. In order to receive the solution I must come to the Land of Dick and Honey (and cheese fries)*, otherwise known as Washington, DC.

Now I don’t know about you, but when I was a kid we had other names for the land of our forefathers (for instance, the land of our forefathers), but if there’s anything I love more than dick and honey, it’s cheese fries, so I hopped on the nearest megabus and beat it (ha) down the coast.

Upon arrival, I met the first solution. It was cheese fries from Ben’s Chili Bowl.  (I realize that website mentions both chili dogs and “100% wind power” within inches of each other, but I’m trying to be serious here, so stuff it. Shove it?  Cut one? Oh stop, what are you, twelve?) Cheese fries on their own would have been good enough, but these are Barack OBAMA’s favorite cheese fries. These are the fries that console the president of our great nation when people hate on him for his health care bill. These are the fries that supported the commander in chief through the worst recession in modern history.  These are American fries. These are… FREEDOM FRIES!

But as a solution, even freedom fries blanch in comparison to what I saw on Saturday night.  Do you ever wonder why grizzled, sad old men outpatronize pretty much every other kind of man at strip clubs? It’s because for those old men, every week is the week of February 21, and they need the kind of consolation I got at a gay strip club with all straight, totally naked male strippers.

That’s right. I said a gay club with all straight, totally naked male strippers. I thought I was ready for it, but I wasn’t.

Some new gay friends: *shouting over a Tina Turner impersonater who is possibly committing seppuku by wig onstage* “are you ready for upstairs?”

female friend of the gay friends: “Oh my god, I just went upstairs, and it. I..”

One Bad: “That… wasn’t a sentence.”

new gay friends: “seriously. you need to be ready for this, cause they’re naked and they like straight girls. Look what happened to her.”

female friend of new gay friends: “It is. They.”  *Not blinking. Twitches*

One Bad:*ascending the stairs*  “Of course I’m ready for this. Why shouldn’t I be ready for this?  I’ve been on a bus full of naked men. I once went nude surfing with a bunch of random guys I met in Costa Rica.  I’ve had a threesome in an M&M costume! I was born ready for this!” *pumps fist*

I turn the corner and a man with a schlong the size of my forearm, propped up with a bracelet sized cock ring, bends over to accept a dollar in his sock, then grabs a horizontal steel pole above his head and swings over the man who tipped him, practically grazing the man’s head with his balls. He then pulls himself parallel to the bar in a half split and starts doing pullups.

One Bad: “I am… not ready for this.”

But after a few whiskeys, boy was I ready for it. I was probably more ready for it than was really reasonable, if you ask some of the people who were there. By the end of the night, last week could suck my dick. (take THAT, last week!)

But then my Megabus broke down in Delaware on the way back. It appears the week of February 21 has gone rogue. If anyone sees it, I will pay a handsome reward for its capture and eventual beheading.  (tee hee. I said “heading”)

*Not actually what she said.


2 Responses to “The Land of Dick and Honey (and cheese fries)”

  1. Greg Barnes March 3, 2011 at 5:30 am #

    Glad you had fun in DC. Now when are you and Friend-who-runs-five-miles-with-a-PhD coming to visit me?

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