November 7th, 2006


The Story of Steve & The Hookers Who Love His Money

Provocative title, no? Yeah, I thought so too.

So, first of all, the Seahawks had their first of two appearances on Monday Night Football tonight (I'll have a report on what I thought of the game tomorrow). I wasn't originally intending on going out to see it, because it was the Raiders and plus the Seahawks had burned me the last two weeks now. But, a few hours from game time, I got the itch to get out of the apartment. The Black Sheep was calling for me.

The Black Sheep is my bar of choice for watching Seahawks games, on 3rd Ave and 38th Street. So, I got there about 15 minutes before gametime and, what a surprise! I found I seat (and plenty more) at the bar. Apparently, the Raiders at the Junior Varsity Seahawks isn't quite the draw over here in NYC as it is ... oh, who am I kidding, that thing probably wasn't even a draw for family members of the Seahawks!

Anyway, I got there, and I started ordering my beer of choice at the Black Sheep, Yuengling Ale, and I was having a good time as the 'Hawks scored 10 points in the first half and held the most hated Raiders to 0 thanks to recording 7 first half sacks. That's where I stood at halftime, when I made and received the bulk of my phone calls.

I'd nearly filled the entire halftime with calls to and from three different people, when I was bumped into by a lady who needed assistance from the bartender. She excused herself, then saw that I was on the phone, so she returned to her table. A few minutes later, when I was off the phone, she "accidentally" bumped into me again.

She said she noticed that I was on the phone quite a bit and I mentioned I was talking to people from Seattle, as that's where I'm from. An exchange followed, she introduced herself as Julie, and we talked a bit more. This led to her inviting me back to her table where they were playing "Truth or Dare." As fascinating as that sounded - Truth or Dare in a bar setting where I know no one - I told her I'd think about it. And I actually DID think about going over there, until I heard her boisterously drunken rambling to a guy on a stool next to me, when she said, "I charge $40 an hour."

Let's see, friendly hot chick, talking to losers alone at a bar, charges $40 an hour ... I'm assuming she's not offering legal counsil on a Monday night. That's when I took a look over at the table she was referring to. As chance would have it, I was sitting about six feet from it. Two guys, two girls, nobody appearing to know each other, and yet, the ladies are awfully friendly ...

Suffice it to say, I stayed at the bar, had no further interactions with this Julie character (probably because one of our first lines of dialogue consisted of the fact that I'm unemployed and living in Brooklyn), and watched my Seahawks thump the Raiders 16-0.

Even through the many beers I'd had tonight, I managed to keep my head on straight. I even managed to write the following, once I realized what I was in for:

You know when you're so drunk you think the hot woman hitting ON YOU is doing so because of your inherent wit and sex-a-bility and NOT because you're a loser sitting at a bar by yourself watching a Monday Night Football game no one in their right mind would care about?

That's when I hear her talking to the guy on the stool next to me, "I charge $40 an hour"

I couldn't help but wonder, "What do you charge by the minute?"

It's good to know that the hookers here are considerably cheaper than those working the casinos in Vegas. If only I had forty bucks ...
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