Dr Awesome, La Barra Brava, and Charlie Brown

FRIDAY

A trip to the hospital is fun for no one. I always feel like if I go to the hospital because I’m sick, I’ll then come out twice as bad. Unfortunately, that’s what happened to me on Friday last week (6/12/09). I’d felt all kinds of terrible starting in the middle of the week, culminating in throwing up bloody mucus on Friday morning. I called out of work and promptly drove my ass to the hospital. I don’t think anyone was amused by my pirate pants, which of course made me sad face even harder. So, I got all my paperwork filled out and played the scary waiting game. Open Season was playing on the TV, so I had something to distract me from the fact I was sharing a filthy room full of filthy people, all more sick than I was. I understand that the system doctors use to figure out who’s more in need is only understood by them… but they should find a better, cleaner way to organize a waiting room.

For instance, why not separate people by how disgusting they appear. Put all the people sneezing and coughing in one room. All the people oozing blood or pus in the next room. All the people with broken extremities in another room. Anything worse gets put in the last room which would be labeled “FURNACE”. But that is not how it’s done because I (coughing up bloody mucus and sneezing/coughing a fair share) was in the same room with whiny kids, explosive diarrhea, bleeders, idiots who had too much fun with power tools, rashes, old people, and quite possibly Ebola. Anywho, after three hours of coughing up what I was pretty sure my lung and watching cartoons with far more maligned children; I was invited into the actual hospital. Immediately a medical student requested I remove my clothes and put on the most retarded person’s attempt at a robe, then sit in a bed covered in construction paper. I promptly requested I be bought dinner and a movie first to no laughter. This is a bad sign. I’d prefer to only deal with medical professionals in good moods, and when they lack a funny bone it scares me. I really do want my doctor to be a mix between Patch Adams, Doctor House, and Bones.

After waiting another hour or two, I was seen by a man we shall call “Dr Awesome“. We shall call him such because he looked old enough to have delivered baby Jeebus, there was a cigar in his shirt pocket, and he sucked/chewed on a thermometer (the kind all full of mercury). First, I made sure to ask him if he was actually Josh Brolin. He said no with a knowing smile so I then explained the course of my problems. Dr Awesome muttered something – possibly an incantation – and used his magical powers to immediately guess what it was and “start the fixin.” He handed me a cup of nuclear waste and told me to drink it. Once again, I requested dinner and a movie. This guy laughed, and commented that “you probably saw Open Season playing in the waiting room, now drink the cocktail.” He gets a gold star. I drank the concoction and told Dr Awesome that he should never be a bartender, then abruptly evacuated my stomach’s contents. Apparently, though no one told me, this was supposed to happen. I was confused, as there was no nurse waiting on knees to accept My Body and My Blood all communion style. Dr Awesome then threw his hands up in the air with a mighty “AHA!” and used his super human eagle like vision to spot a bit o’ wood in the wreckage. Then, he left, presumably to solve cancer and kill the medical student who had asked for my pants. I was kept for observation for another hour or so, then discharged. I went home and enjoyed some tea, beer, and some time with the Little Bastard.

FUN RATING: Sad Panda

SATURDAY

I awoke around…. who cares and promptly got to watching TV. I saw a commercial for a church called Harvest Bible Church, and feared for the safety of my soul. Regardless of whether or no I’ve a soul, the concept of putting “harvest” in a church’s name just really scares the hell out of me. Harvest seems like a better name for a really devilish place. For instance, whatever church Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, and Chester the Molester go to. Anywho, my Saturday was spent on the social experiment of watching white people get excited about soccer. I will start by telling anyone reading this that I have not physically met that I am NOT a sports fan. The concept of watching sports is simply foolish to me. Most of the sports that are on TV, I either find immensely boring or I don’t understand. The only sports anyone will see me get exceedingly excited about are Frolf and Top Golf (it’s like a driving range had sex with a dart board, and they feed you booze and bar food). Other than that, I really would prefer a competitive tournament in Schaden Freude. However, I was invited to get wasted with La Barra Brava during the tailgating prior to DC United’s Saturday game. This was something I could get on board with, as it combined many joys of mine. Food, booze, people watching, and morons (avid sports fans).

As I was saying, tailgating was the event of the day for me. I had several beers, a fair helping of tequila, and some jungle juice made by Barra Brava. For anyone who has not been to this before (like me), La Barra Brava is a DC United fan cult. I would say fan club, but this is America and it was a soccer game. Plus, it was explained to me by a friend of mine originally from Brazil that this “foolish, tiny display is nothing in comparison.” Twas definitely more of a cult vibe going on than a club vibe. However, La Barra Brava members have their own jerseys, their own ticket line, and their own Spanish chants/songs. From a people watching, partying, drinking, etc point of view it was a great time. Problem with me going to sports games (this being the first since a Canons game when I was but a wee lad), is that I am not a sports fan. Also, everyone in La Barra Brava definitely fits into the AVID FUCKING SPORTS FAN column, and they were not impressed with my lack of soccer enthusiasm. I did my fair share of jumping and chanting and whatnot, but I was kind of interested in taking a seat and watching the game. It became very clear that was not going to happen, so I drank some more beer. One thing I was not prepared for was being covered in beer. Apparently, when sports fans get excited, they like to simulate ejaculation by throwing their beer in the air. The same cup of beer they just forked over $7 for. Now, I have gladly paid $7 for a beer several times before. However, those were delicious beers full of flavor and happiness. These were Miller Lites, which is a antonym for tasty and happiness. Also, if said sports fans have no beer throw, they took my beer and proceeded to throw it and not buy me another one. If I was remotely sober and not outnumbered by drunken soccer fans, something would have been done about it. As that was not the case, I drank more beer. Somebody won, the day was over, fast forward…..

To me driving home. I stopped off at sleven for a snack, beverage, and not a pack of cigarrettes. Aside from 2 that I had during the game to rid a sports fan induced headache, I have kept good on my promise to myself to quit my pack-a-day habit (since June 10 09). As I was exiting the store some kids which we will label Punkass as they all looked, thought, sounded, and spoke alike asked for me to buy them “some forties”.  This was a new thing for me. I had yet to be asked to buy someone underage booze. Turns out, I’m an adult and apparently resemble one too. Nothing in my hand or bag spoke to my age, so I decided to engage Punkass in a competitive Schaden Freude conversation. So, I says to him, “First, I could be a cop for all you know, the Fairfax County Pig is a crafty little bastard. Second, not only not buy you the forties but as you actually want forties I will remember to never make eye contact with you again, forties are terrible disgusting excuses for refreshment. You can redeem yourself by saying you’ll be making Brass Monkeys…” to which Punkass made a whimpering sound like a cat going thru a woodchipper and drove away. I was confused, but smiling. I then went home and fell to sleep.

FUN RATING: A Blast

SUNDAY

Charlie Brown’s Store is quite an interesting business. Essentially, think of what would happen if some “good ole boys” from West Virginia made a head shop. Never before have I seen bait, hunting equipment, handguns, and rifles all sold in a headshop. They have a fantastic selection of glass, wood, and metal pipes as well as your standard head shop fare. I saw excellent prices on vaporizers and water pipes that I’ve seen for a lot more at other stores. I think the best part of Charlie Brown’s is the beautiful drive out there, and the fact that it isn’t hard to find. Essentially, from the beltway: Take RT 7 towards Berryville. Take RT 9 West/Charles Town WV Exit. Follow about 25 miles. After crossing the Shenandoah River Bridge they are approximately 2 miles up the road on the right. It’s a great store, and I highly recommend the journey.

FUN RATING: BLASTY BLAST

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