Close Call

Last night I almost had what one would call a moment of weakness. I came home from work and realized I had not eaten since noon, and it was now like 10 p.m. I did not want fast food, nor did I want to go to some restaurant and have to sit there alone. That really only leaves one kind of place…a bar.

So, I trekked up to Noblestown Road and looked around, and saw a place called the Ugly Dog Saloon, and underneath the sign it said bar and grille. I went in and it seemed okay, not very busy. I grabbed a seat at the bar and asked for a menu and a glass of water. I ordered a chicken quesadilla and watched the Cardinals/Braves game while waiting for my food.

As I waited, I started to have an urge to order a Miller Lite draft. It looked good coming out of the tap. My mind started to debate what to do, and naturally the first thing I thought (as if the little devil on my shoulder was whispering to me) was, what would it hurt? Just one beer, no one would know. It’s not like you’d get drunk off it. Then the other side spoke, unfortunately this was no angel, just another little devil, and said “seriously man, it would taste really good right now, and the rest of the people would stop looking at you like some kind of weirdo for drinking water.” At that point I had not thought people were staring at me, but now I was becoming paranoid.

After a few minutes of listening to these arguments, I decided to ask the big guy for some help. No, not God, this big, fat guy sitting near me. I told him my dilemma and he thought on it for a moment and gave me this answer: “One beer never really hurt anyone, I come here all the time and drink a beer, and I am doing just fine.” My mind was made up, have a beer. Then he fell out of his stool and a bouncer came over and hit him with a taser and dragged him out of the bar. I found out that he’d been there since noon, enjoying his one beer, which was really 38 beers. I then decided to finish my food and get the hell out of there.

Crisis averted, still no alcohol since April 30th. Oh, and some of the events in this story are made up, not telling which, but I am sure you can guess (no, the quesadilla was real and very tasty).

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10 thoughts on “Close Call

  1. Sounds like you did good. Can’t be easy.

    I do feel the need to rib you for your use of the word “drug” though. The past tense of drag is dragged. My coworker uses drug like that all the time and it drives me insane. INSANE I TELL YOU.

  2. Haha, ya know what, as I wrote it, i knew it was completely wrong, but I left it anyways. Mainly to show my central PA heritage (or stupidity, whichever).

  3. Proud of you hon, you definitely showed some will power and self control, something I need to find more of so I can get this weight off. Love you

  4. No way, man, you should be ashamed of yourself. That 38 beer guy sounds wicked cool. You should definitely aspire to be like him. In fact, I’m goin to the bar right now to try and find him. I haven’t been tasered in months…

    and for the record, im guessing that you were actually watching an infomercial on cutlery, not a cardinals/braves game.

    p.p.s. – that really only leaves one kind of place…a bar
    no it doesn’t. its called hamburger f’ing helper.

  5. Thank you everyone for being supportive…

    Gideon…you have lost points in my book for saying “wicked.” You are from Brooklyn, why would you lower yourself to using terminology from your Masshole neighbors?

    I didn’t have any hamburger helper (I actually prefer Tuna Helper, I think we made that a couple of times back at 224D)…

  6. yeah, gideon….don’t say wicked. ever. not even if you’re referring to the hit broadway musical, Wicked, based on the bestselling novel…..which I hope you’re never referring to either.

    Congrats on the no beer, husband! although I fear that your “addiction” may have transitioned over to quesadillas.

  7. yeah, i guess i have been pretty lax with my adverb selection lately. the sad part is that whole entry was free written; meaning i didnt put that in there purposely, trying to elicit some sort of response. I pity myself sometimes.

    and creamy broccoli tuna helper, for the win…

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