I had the entertaining pleasure of listening to the ramblings of a crackhead last night. I was laying in my pajamas @ 10:30 when I got the phone call beckoning me out for a drink. I got a second wind and consolidated my feces (got my shit together). I hadn't ridden my motorcycle in a while, so I decided to fire it up. I don't know if it was the cold weather, or the fact that the bike's been sitting for a week, but I had a hell of a time getting that cold blooded bitch to turn over. The choke, apparently, is very touchy. After I finally got it warmed up, I rode down to my favorite local watering hole. When I got to the bar, my crotch was soaking wet (not in a good way). I forgot to wipe the condensation off of my seat. My roommate, who works there but had the night off, met up with me. This guy walks in and sits down next to us. I had met this gentleman a few times previous to last night's encounter, but he was so out of his friggin' tree that he couldn't remember it's not PC to tell racial jokes in a bar that's in a city full of immigrants, never mind that he had met me 4 or 5 times already. He introduces himself as "Troy." He then starts to soapbox various jokes (blonde, racial, and 1 non-joke). Here's an example of a non-joke:

" little girl walks in on her father in the shower. She says, 'daddy, what's that?' He says, 'that's a penis.' The little girl asks, 'will I ever have one?' He says, 'you will in about 15 minutes after your mother leaves."

I really didn't even hear the non-joke at first because I was watching his face twitch and flinch all over the place. It was like talking to someone with a lazy eye and trying to figure out which eye you should be looking at. Evidently, he must've tripped and fell and his head must've inadverdantly landed in a pile of cocaine bigger than Tony Montana's. I was like a moth to a flame. He was a horrible car accident, and I just couldn't look away. Here's a hint for all the coke heads out there: EVERYONE KNOWS! So then the non-joke sets in and I realize, "um, that wasn't even a friggin' joke...what the hell? That was actually pretty horrible and disgusting!" He immediately gets defensive and tells us all that he's got 2 little girls himself. What the f**k? He then graces us all with the joke about the Puerto Rican firefighter who named his twins Jose and Hose B.

I was pretty much convinced he was an asshole (this process usually only takes me less that 1 minute to determine with most people). Then came the straw that broke the camel's back. I asked Troy if he was Greek. My roommate is Greek and a close friend of mine is too. The Greek population in Lowell is prominent. I thought it was a reasonable question, Troy is a common Greek name. The idiot says no, he's not Greek and asks me why I wanted to know. I told him the above mentioned and he proceeds to tell me that 'Troy' is not a Greek name, but in fact, a BLACK name. My roommate does a double take/say whut look and echoes his answer, "a black name?" He gets a bit confrontational and says, "what, are you prejudice? My mother's black!" I monologue, "...bull honkey." My roommate, of course, says that she's not prejudice: in fact, she prefers black men. His feathers immediately ruffle as he shouts, "are you f**kin' serious?" She replies, "anything to piss you off, sure." With that, she pounds her drink and leaves.

You know, it's tough being a bartender. Truly. It's like being the much older/responsible/sober brother or sister at a raging high school kegger, and you're stuck babysitting a bunch of sloppy retards. Sometimes you can't get away from it, like last night for example. All my roommate and I wanted was to go out for a drink or two and chillax. We're drunk-asshole-crackhead-black Troy-magnets.