Penny's Birthday

July 30th was my wife Penny's birthday.



We decided to get a few friends together and celebrate over mixed drinks at the Beauty Bar. Unfortunately, I am a fucking lazy dufus drooling idiot man child and I left my drivers license... someplace. This has actually happened to me a few times already. And the one thing I have learned is that the only way the bouncer will let you in is if you a) say it's your birthday OR b) are a hot chick. My boyish good looks backfired on me and the door man asks for my ID. As I begin to search through the dozens of other cards I DO have in my wallet I see the smile on Penny's face turn to a scowl of realization that said so much in just a glance. As I am fluent in reading Penny-Face I read 'Oh, no way. Do not tell me that you forgot your ID on my birthday when we have to meet people inside for drinks. Why did I marry you, you massively retarded retard?'

She talked me in and the bouncer asked me what my favorite color was and I said "Green" and with that, he let me in. Bless him, his kindness saved my marriage and perhaps my life. So if you go to the Beauty Bar in LA and a big muscular dude with perfect bone structure and dark spikey hair is at the door, thank him for me. Maybe let him feel your breasts or something. Thanks.

Our next drink stop was right across the street at The Burgundy Room. Cool let's go-- Oh wait, are they gonna let me in sans ID? There's a humongusly tall, bald, black bouncer. So I'm not feeling good about this one. He looked like an aging pro basketball player. He was at least 6ft 11inches. Penny sized up the dude and the situation and jumped on the live grenade like a pro. "Hi, what's your name?" she asked him.

He leans down to address we human-sized folks. "My name is Torrance" he says with his big deep voice.

Penny was smooth. Hi Torrance, it's my birthday and we have a big group with us and we came to celebrate, but my husband doesn't have his Drivers License He's 31! Can you please let him in?"

Torrance looks over at me and then speaks. He asks me, then Penny and then my friend next to us all the same question. "Are you a cop? Cause I aint' looking to lose my job. I'm looking to do you a favor."

We made it clear that we were not cops and he said we could go in. But then he added... "Well, if I were in such a situation and the big man at the door let me in, I would want to give him something to show my appreciation for the favor."

At this point I know that I have 4 dollars in my wallet. Which seems like a weak appeasement to this massive gatekeeper.

I told him "Absolutely, I'll go in get cash from my friend, and return with some pictures of presidents to thank you."

He reluctantly let me in when Penny promised that I'd be right back. Man, he didn't seem like he was happy about having to wait for his "gratuity."

I walk in and immediately turn to my friend Carson in a panic. "Carson, gimme money, now! I have to--" I must have sounded very serious because Carson dug out his wallet and gave me 10 dollars before I could even finish my request. I went back and gave Torrance, the nice scary man, a handshake and slipped him the money.

Had I known that I would spend the next hour standing in a hot, crowded bar, pressed up against a wall, I may have just feigned a seizure so we could all go home.

I have seen a lot of hardcore tattooed lesbian chicks over the years and I think every single one of them was at the bar that very night. These punk bitches were shoving people out of their way like it was a mosh pit. One particularly hefty sow smacked me into the wall. It was like some drugged up Soviet Hockey player body-checked me into the boards. The sheer amount of tattoo ink probably added at least 15 or 20 lbs to this broad's girthy build.

I had the urge to shout, "Don't blame me because spelunkers are the only ones who would dare to enter your vagina." But without a cattle prod she had me seriously overmatched.

As she maurauded up and down the narrow walkspace she pushed all of the guys in my group at least once. We decided that next time she came by we were going to be a solid mass of wall and she'd have to ask politely before we'd let her pass by. I enjoyed a few more drinks and just as I was wondering when Miss. Gorilla Monsoon might be coming back I was violently knocked against some dude wearing a Danzig T-shirt and spiked leather collar. He wasn't happy that I had spilled some of his drink on a shirt he had probably just washed a few months ago.

"It wasn't me man," I explained "It was that bruiser dykeasaurous over there." This amused him and he almost smiled.

I finally looked around and saw tha Penny and her gal friends were relaxed and seated in a spacious area by the DJ. I settled in there and shot nasty looks at the Evil Ogre-lady. My friend Brady had picked up a tall, blonde, drink leech and we all placed bets on how far he would get with her.

"Hey Andy," she said to Brady, "I wanna get a car bomb, can you get me a car bomb?"

I leaned over and asked her what kind of alcohol was in that drink.

"It's not a drink she said, it's Guinness with... It's got a thing in it."

Uh... thanks Bimbo. Brady returned a minute later. He had managed to detach the leech once he closed out his bar tab.

Next time I go out to a little Hollywood dive bar I'm bringing a large flask of cold vodka and two Samoan body guards. Strangely it felt good to have bribed my way in. Oh, and my drivers license. Even if I had brought it with me. It's been expired for about 7 months now. I should probably look for it.