Card games and TWP

Saturday night, the missus and I decided to go out for Mexican food. Here in Dallas, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a Mexican joint. There are all kinds. The snooty ones sport the “Mexico City” moniker since being form the MC is a status symbol amongst Mexicans. Hell, there’s even place that sells “Rough Tex Mex” whatever the fuck that is. Seriously, what the hell is that? Are the hostesses dressed like Dominatrixes while the cooks dress like Leathermen? Do you sit on wooly seats that make you itch like Pascal’s hair shirt? We do have one very famous place in town that is run by a transgendered person, but even she wouldn’t be able to figure this out.

Anyway, after we hit up Taco Diner we decided to stop next door for a beer at a pub called The Ginger Man. Both places are situated in one of those “new Urbanist” plazas where the first floor is restaurants and shop s and the second floor consists of offices. The whole thing is surrounded by apartments and condos. Their motto is “live work and play.” It really means eat, get drunk and stumble back to your apartment without worrying about being mugged or stepping over dead people on your front stoop.

It was a beautiful evening so we decided to sit outdoors. Like a lot of pubs, the tables are really just oversized picnic tables that force you to actually socialize it with other people. At the end of our table, two girls and a guy in their late twenties having some beers and talking. The wife and I were only going to have one beer since the sun was going down and I turn into a werewolf (but I keep my pants and shirt,) but the “kids” at the other end had started a card game and asked us to join. The game was called Cards Against Humanity and I highly recommend it. The old people in the audience may fondly recall The Match Game. Hosted by Gene Rayburn, Match Game is my all time favorite game show. For those of you young’uns, the host asks a question of one of two contestants, while six celebrities write down answers in an attempt to match their answer. It goes something like this:

Charles in charge

Host Gene Rayburn: Unlucky Louie said: I have such rotten luck. I went on a diet  and lost three inches. Unfortunately, it was from my _______.

Of course it’s an exercise in double entendres meant to make everyone squirm. Here’s a great clip.  

After a couple of pints of Guinness, I decided to roll to the men’s room. I walked past people I didn’t even know existed out here in the wilds of exurbia. Hipster glasses and crocheted hats. Some tattooing and the occasional wallet chain, though not as long as mine. As I sidled up to the urine catcher, I noticed the guy next to me had his iphone in his left hand and his dick in his right. HE WAS TEXTING!!!!. Seriously, here he was at the urinal typing away with his thumb. Normally men don’t make eye contact or talk at the urinals unless you know the other person, and NO ONE carries on a conversation whilst seated on the throne. It’s just not done. But here I was staring at this guy for an uncomfortably long time while he fingered that phone. I was expecting him to start drooling. He finished, hit the flush handle, tucked it in and zipped up while still texting. Zipping up without looking is a pretty risky deal. A man with a snagged scrotum is horrific to behold.

After finishing he shuffles to the side of the sink and pauses, absorbed in the phone. About four minutes has passed and he has not looked up. He walks up to the sink, moves the handle up and puts his right fingers under the water. Still texting, he wipes his fingers on his jeans, opens the door and walks out.  

I walked back to our game which we ended up playing until 11:30 which is way past my bedtime. In the course of the evening we made some new friends, had some fun, drank some beer and encountered some weirdness. It makes me think we need to stay out a wee bit later. Even a werewolf has to lose his pants now and then.