Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Draft #140
Nate Filzen: A Gentleman's Gentleman or Reckless Killer?
This past Friday I met up with Nate for an evening of, you guessed it, alcohol consumption. The night in question started out at the Trysting Place where there was a gathering of some of Nate's co-workers. As far as the Trysting Place is regarded as a place to go for fun and eye candy, I'd rank it somewhere between visiting the city dump and the Menonomee Falls tourist brochere center. The bar itself isn't that bad, it has potential, but unfortunately for those in the male population looking to chase skirts, this place usually lacks a wide variety of female clientele.
But this evening wasn't about chasing skirts. Nate's group of work colleagues made for a good time and many drinks were drunken. At one point we even sang happy birthday to one of Nate's colleagues who would be leaving their place of employment soon (and who was the reason for celebration) even though it wasn't her birthday. And the best part of it all was that two or three other random groups of people joined in to sing, bringing the decibel level to impressive heights. I've been to many a church service where hymns weren't belted out with nearly as much gusto as this fraudulent version of the birthday song. I felt like I was in an Irish bar singing about the trials and tribulations of potato famine or voluntary whiskey poisoning.
At this point you are probably wondering what this all has to do with the title of the entry? And this is when things get real juicy, well kind of juicy, ok actually more like mildly interesting. If you are ever looking to improve your current situation, make things more fun for yourself, you know, turn things up a notch on a Friday night, then all you have to do is get up and leave.............the Trysting Place. Good times will then be just around the corner, even if your next stop is the historical mustard museum. So Nate, Phil Benson (aka- Ben Filzen) and I decide it's time to head over to the Barley Pop for some karaoke. As we were approaching our destination, Nate suddenly slammed the brakes (not to a complete stop) and I, sitting in the back seat, didn't think much of it. We were on a street with a 25 mph speed limit so it wasn't that dramatic. The sudden stop n' go happened right in front of a group of 15 or so people who were gathered on the nearby sidewalk. I remember the looks on a couple of their faces and they were all wearing the expression of someone who had just tasted soured applesauce, they all kind of cringed simultaneously. And again I didn't think much of it for some reason until Nate said, "Yeah, I definitely hit it." It turns out Nate slammed the brakes momentarily because a black cat had crossed our path. And between you and me, I don't think that cat is doing much more these days than rotting in a gutter or adjacent field somewhere.
Now what's the protocol for a situation like this? If a black cat crosses your path that is bad luck, at least according to what I've been told. But what happens when a black cat crosses your path and you mercilessly run it over with your car? Is that considered good luck or really really extra crispy bad luck? I guess if Nate's hair suddenly self combusts and in an effort to put out the flame, he is captured and raped by a three headed unicorn, then we'll know. The only thing that is certain for now is that you should be extra careful when in the presence of Nate, the guy nearly ripped out one of my front teeth with a beer bottle towards the end of that evening. The guy is on some sort of death wish it appears and we should all be on our toes.
The next day I was barbecuing at Troy's house in Horicon and he tells me that he was also out in Germantown that evening, the evening of the pussy cat massacre. He and some friends/family were dining at Jerry's Old Town Inn which is an establishment located on the same street as the Barley Pop and is very close to where the scene of the accident was. Did I say accident? I meant ruthless homocide. His evening at Jerry's ended around 8pm and our arrival to the Barley Pop was around 9:30pm, just for reference. After telling Troy the story of the dead cat, he asked me, "Was the cat black?" I told him that the cat was indeed black and he mentioned to me that he and his party saw a black cat running around in front of Jerry's that evening. He even recalled a cute little girl with pigtails about the age of six or so that was petting and befriending the black cat on the sidewalk. Apparently everybody loved this cat, and now, now it's dead. Thanks a lot Nate Filzen, thanks a focking lot.
*Hucklebuck Enterprises and those in association with Hucklebuck Enterprises would like to take this moment to remind you that cats suck and that cats are good for nothing........I mean unless that cat's name is Mort, in which case cats are a delight. In the end, Nate probably did that hideous thing a favor.
# posted by hucklebuck @ 7:47 AM 
Comments:
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I believe the league starts September 23rd. And the last time I checked, we were still deciding on whether Stenny's (a ragingly gay biker bar) or Fitzgibbon's (our greatest sponsor ever) would be our sponsor.
Obviously, you know where my vote lies.
Obviously, you know where my vote lies.
I think it means that I will have super duper good luck, but everyone around me will have bad luck. That is my take on the situation.
So y'all better beware
So y'all better beware
Whoa, whoa. When did I ask for a girl's number? And which girl are we talking about (without being too obvious)?
Cat killing would be the least of my problems, it's my perpetual nose bleeds I get around woman that I'm worried about the most. Nothing kills the moment quite like a river of blood running down your chin during dinner.
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