Dog is a Man's Best Friend?
I was in Indiana the last few days spending some time with family at the lake. One night I met up with my girls Kelly and Heather and as usual we put back a couple of beers and talked about the latest updates on life and reminisced about all the strange things we gone through in life together and separately. It NEVER FAILS that when the three of us are together we encounter situations that are uniquely strange and hysterical. It happened again.
We were at Harrison Landing, a bar we've gone to since we turned 21, downtown Elkhart. We were amongst a younger crowd as it was beer pong night. If you ever want to feel old, go to beer pong night at any bar. We are sitting there laughing about things when a guy who looks close to 40 and has a distinct and obvious pace is contemplating an approach. I knew right away that we were in for something when he grabbed an open seat at our table and sat down. Kelly looked at me and Heather refused to make eye contact. This was going to be hard to keep a straight face. The guy said hello and his friend sat down on the other side of Heather. I started laughing but didn't look up.
The conversation begins with me basically asking him who he is and what he wants. It's obvious what he wants but he has no idea what's in store. He is sitting with three girls who are notorious for leading strangers into odd conversation only to tell the story later to friends. Kelly and I would post newsletters in our dorm bathroom that told fabricated stories about about those who lived near us and I am personally dangerous with a cell phone that has a camera. This guy was my next victim.
The man proceeds to tell us he inherited a lot of money from his grandmother and he doesn't work. He plays scrabble. Online. All day. Kelly told him this was unexcusable and that he should be doing something more with his time if he doesn't have to work. Then the can of worms opened.
He says "well, I did write a book."
This peeked my interest. "What kind of book?" I ask. Before I continue you should know that things will get strange.
His reply? "Well it's about a woman who has sex with a dog. But the dog is from hell."
The beer that was in my mouth came bursting out into my lap. Heather's eye's popped out of her head and Kelly had tears coming down her face.
But he didn't seem phased by our reaction. He starts explaining the book which quite frankly makes no sense to me at all. He compares it to Planet of the Apes. His friend listens with a glaze over his eyes. Probably stoned out of his mind, he asks me to dance with him. I tell him he needs to take his friend to therapy. And no, I don't want to dance.
The night continued with this guy telling Kelly his life story. It ended with us half encouraging him to get his non dog sex books published but he's too drunk to understand what he's saying by the end of the night. He buys us a shot for our efforts and then he leaves.
I don't understand this notion of self pity, laziness, strange desire to do something out of the ordinary and then choose to write a disturbing book instead of using your talent to do some good in the world. The guy was embarassed I think of opening up to us, which he should be, but couldn't he think of something a little more appropriate?
If a person has money for life, regardless of the amount, does it makes sense they are in a bar every night throwing it away, and then talking about disturbing ideas that only seems to manifest their own self doubt, fear, anger, and depression. I have a hard time being sympathetic. Beware small town sadness. While its interesting to study, its something that I'm glad I'm far away from.
We were at Harrison Landing, a bar we've gone to since we turned 21, downtown Elkhart. We were amongst a younger crowd as it was beer pong night. If you ever want to feel old, go to beer pong night at any bar. We are sitting there laughing about things when a guy who looks close to 40 and has a distinct and obvious pace is contemplating an approach. I knew right away that we were in for something when he grabbed an open seat at our table and sat down. Kelly looked at me and Heather refused to make eye contact. This was going to be hard to keep a straight face. The guy said hello and his friend sat down on the other side of Heather. I started laughing but didn't look up.
The conversation begins with me basically asking him who he is and what he wants. It's obvious what he wants but he has no idea what's in store. He is sitting with three girls who are notorious for leading strangers into odd conversation only to tell the story later to friends. Kelly and I would post newsletters in our dorm bathroom that told fabricated stories about about those who lived near us and I am personally dangerous with a cell phone that has a camera. This guy was my next victim.
The man proceeds to tell us he inherited a lot of money from his grandmother and he doesn't work. He plays scrabble. Online. All day. Kelly told him this was unexcusable and that he should be doing something more with his time if he doesn't have to work. Then the can of worms opened.
He says "well, I did write a book."
This peeked my interest. "What kind of book?" I ask. Before I continue you should know that things will get strange.
His reply? "Well it's about a woman who has sex with a dog. But the dog is from hell."
The beer that was in my mouth came bursting out into my lap. Heather's eye's popped out of her head and Kelly had tears coming down her face.
But he didn't seem phased by our reaction. He starts explaining the book which quite frankly makes no sense to me at all. He compares it to Planet of the Apes. His friend listens with a glaze over his eyes. Probably stoned out of his mind, he asks me to dance with him. I tell him he needs to take his friend to therapy. And no, I don't want to dance.
The night continued with this guy telling Kelly his life story. It ended with us half encouraging him to get his non dog sex books published but he's too drunk to understand what he's saying by the end of the night. He buys us a shot for our efforts and then he leaves.
I don't understand this notion of self pity, laziness, strange desire to do something out of the ordinary and then choose to write a disturbing book instead of using your talent to do some good in the world. The guy was embarassed I think of opening up to us, which he should be, but couldn't he think of something a little more appropriate?
If a person has money for life, regardless of the amount, does it makes sense they are in a bar every night throwing it away, and then talking about disturbing ideas that only seems to manifest their own self doubt, fear, anger, and depression. I have a hard time being sympathetic. Beware small town sadness. While its interesting to study, its something that I'm glad I'm far away from.
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