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thewestenddavenportiowa · 6 years

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CBD oil is a thing that people are using to treat things naturally. I’ve heard a few things about it. It seems neat.

I actually applied for a marketing/branding job at one of the up and coming CBD oil companies recently.

Super the Most Surprising News Flash Like Ever:

I was turned down.

I have had a number of people tell me that it’s helped them for whatever reason and on more than one occasion people have shared with me some of the things that it can do, in general.

I even Googled it for a few minutes before getting bored because I don’t actually care that much.

I’ve been a bit apprehensive about CBD oil, because marijuana and I have a bit of a history. A history where people have given it to me and I smoked it at varying levels of intensity dependent on the situation, people, and circumstances surrounding those specific instances and then also?

Pretty. Hilarious.

For everyone.

Maybe me just a little less.

My Pot Timeline:

High School: Pretty fun

College: Uh, this is starting to get a little intense, I kinda prefer alcohol poisoning actually

More Recently: After that last time I’m tapping out

I will tell you what, in no way do I want to be a facilitator of any kind in anyone’s process, however, if you can’t figure out how to do whatever drug it is you wanna do responsibly, you should probably quit completely or go ahead and take a lethal dose.

That’s my stance.

Is that compassionate? Not in the traditional sense.

Do I care? Not in the traditional sense.

I’m pro-drug not quite to the extent the advertising executives who came up with McGruff the Crime Dog were, however I am very much about the weed-out although I want no part of facilitating any of that unless someone’s truly hiring for a drug dealer.

However... as many drug jokes as I have made previously, I would actually be a terrible drug dealer because I would probably make sure my clients’ first orders were also thier last each time because no one wants to hang out with thier drug dealer and I actually, generally, don’t want to have to deal with degenerate pieces of shit.

Oh no you fucking did not just say that.

Oh but I did.

Also, then it would be this whole thing where I’d have to be super overly-nice and annoying so the loser buying my drugs felt better about themselves for just a split second having that real human connection so they would then purchase the drug and then I could leave and then they are faced with thier bleak existence again so they do the drug and then call you back and there’s this whole cycle that can get truly emotionally exhausting I would imagine.

And then at that point it’s like, well, honestly, just go get a fucking corporate job then if you’re going to have to manipulate shitty peoples’ emotions.

Although I guess the unreportable cash would be the only benefit but again since I would have no client retention then we’re going back to my sales funnel and then, fucking, whatever.

Also how big of an asshole is the distributor, like what can I get away with as far as ripping this dick bag off because I absolutely would go to extreme and extended lengths to fuck over the distributor just because that is very funny to me. I think the culture is to fear the distributor but I am pretty sure I would somehow either fuck up the whole thing or snatch the entire operation out of his cold, dead hand if given even a slight opportunity.

And this is why I must stay out of the drug game actually.

Anyway, I cannot figure out marijuana, specifically, because you can’t overdose but you most absofuckinglutely can slip directly into the 75th dimension sometimes.

Maybe it wasn’t just pot?

Well, whatever. That’s their loss of product and wasted investment because there’s no fucking way I’d do that again.

It seems like a lot of the culture of CBD oil is to provide relief. Pain management. Anxiety reduction. Other stuff.

What do I need relief from?

Occasional migraines. Anxiety. They have an oil for that.

The urge to murder difficult people with the use of simply my own two bare hands. That’s heading back into degenerate territory.

So those are my needs, however what I want is the question:

“Excuse me, you got any uppers and appetite suppressant oil?”

All in all the woman who helped me actually knew what the hell she was talking about and was extremely knowledgeable and I can’t imagine having to explain CBD Oil to the ex-pharmaceutical Hunter S. Thompson but she did and if I am being completely honest with you it actually does wonders for anxiety, it’s a little amazing.

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thewestenddavenportiowa · 6 years

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This seems fucked up ⬇️

I get some interesting stuff in my Facebook feed, let me tell you what. I am in no way passing judgements (I definitely am) and maybe it’s just the geneticist in me (that’s a common sense joke) but I am personally, usually, attracted to people that don’t look exactly like me because inbreeding can cause things like, well, it starts with the letter ‘R’...

“Republicanism!”

Hahahaha that is a very funny joke however I am leaning towards a different, less-appropriate word to describe certain mental and/or physical concerns but I will spare you the medical ramblings.

Also, love is wonderful! There’s this thing called plutonic love that involves respecting others’ space and privacy yet still caring deeply for them nonsexually in a way that you wish no ill will come their way. That’s a very appropriate feeling to have towards a sibling or a parent or a child. If at any point you’re possibly feeling differently I am a little concerned that you even need to be told any of this I guess go watch Vice, that network’s for you.

I understand the idea behind loving and accepting everyone but I am just suggesting maybe consider some things better ideas than others? America is already hilarious enough we don’t need to turn it into the Special Olympics version of the Island of Dr. Moreau.

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thewestenddavenportiowa · 6 years

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The Most Racist Restaurant In America

Those people are wearing ‘dunce caps’ not the signature pointed hats of the Ku Klux Clansmen. Although, in this story, (and life in general) those hats are interchangeable.

Also, important to note: This is just another creative writing blog and any likeness to any actual restaurants in current or previous existence is purely coincidental. It’s on my ‘The West End of Davenport Iowa’ blog simply because I didn’t really know what category in which to post this. In fact, if a restaurant like this were to actually exist, it would most likely be on the eastside, not necessarily Bettendorf, but you can think whatever you want. Let your mind’s eye wander!

INT. BAR

The scene opens on the owners and management snorting lines of preworkout with just a hint of cocaine mixed in.

Doucheloser Owner #1: Hahahhaah let’s make miniature hot dogs on a bed of cabbage and call them ‘Indonesian Doggo Salad Sliders’

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Hahahhahahaahahaha

Douchloser Owner #2: Let’s make a shot of everclear mixed with Red Bull, serve them in flights of three, and call them ‘Bus Is Running Late Better Run Waters’

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Hahahaahhaahahahahahahahaha

Borderline Retarded Manager #2: This seems kinda racist, also are we sticking with a drug theme or switching to racial slurs for the menu because we should consider maybe a little continuity in our market...

Douchloser Owner #3: Fuck, I’m horny as hell! Wanna give me a hand job in the bathroom upstairs? (Looking longingly at Borderline Retarded Manager #1)

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Hahahahahahahahahhaha, uhhhhh, yup

As the two head upstairs the others continue their weekly meeting.

Douchloser Manager #1: We need to hire more black people, but make sure they have the shifts that are slow because we all know they are useless anyway

(from upstairs)

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Hahahahahhahahaahahahhahaahahahahhahahah

Borderline Retarded Manager #2: I met a potential investor at the last BBQ BeatOff, we just have to hire his severely autistic son to bartend

Doucheloser Owner #2: That’s fine, how hard is bartending anyway?

Douchloser Owner #1: That’s pretty valid that you’d ask that considering you literally do nothing around here but make drinks under the guise of Instagramming them and then...

Doucheloser Owner #2: AT LEAST I’M NOT EATING THE FOOD, OK?!

(awkward silence)

Borderline Retarded Manager #1 and Doucheloser Owner #3 come back down to the meeting.

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Hey if we stick with the drug theme on the menu for right now I totally have a great idea on how we can transition safely to a racial slur one in the fall

Doucheloser Owner #2: Oh, I am ALL ears!

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Ok, so the bar around the corner has like a police theme or some bullshit to it. I’m going to frame them for being racist because that’s funny because of the drugs in our menu or whatever and also like the whole ‘yo! fuck ‘da poh-leece!’ thing and then when everyone is focusing on that we can change our menu to the racial slurs thing as like satire for the whole situation

Doucheloser Owner #1: I honestly don’t follow nor do I see how that would be even remotely possible

Doucheloser Owner #2: Oh. Mi. God. That’s brilliant

Doucheloser Owner #1: Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what he is talking about. You can barely follow a recipe

(awkward silence)

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: It will be a breeze. My friend is throwing a festival in this neighborhood next month. I’ll have him shut the cop bar around the corner out of the festival, the owner is a hot-headed drunk who I already know will have a public meltdown, we make sure that is highlighted, we’re covered

Doucheloser Owner #1: Alright we’ll do whatever you guys want

Borderline Retarded Manager #2: ok, moving on. What about this new potential hire for server? Rumor has it she might be Jewish, but no one knows, I don’t think she actually even knows, probably put her up at the lunch counter selling lentil soup?

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: And have her work directly with the evangelical preacher’s 27 year old son who just left the peace corps who is only here looking for a submissive wife? Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Borderline Retarded Manager #2: It’s fine. No way is she going to catch on to the rampant and unrelenting anti-semetism coming from literally every single one of us at any given moment as it doesn’t really matter or count because the bottom line is that no one, including her, knows if she is actually Jewish or not

Doucheloser Owner #2: I wish she was black

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Jewish people aren’t black, they just have a lot of black hair

Doucheloser Owner #1: We have a black girl up there already, it will be good to throw in the Jew

Doucheloser Owner #2: HOW DO YOU KNOW THERE’S A BLACK GIRL UP THERE, ARE YOU FUCKING HER?! Also that Jew seems very stupid, we should be able to very easily trick her with our idiotic parlor games usually used on the teenage hostesses

Doucheloser Owner #3: Fuck, I am seriously really fucking horny today...

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Hahahahahahhahahahahahahahaah

Borderline Retarded Manager #2: It’s my turn

Borderline Retarded Manager #2 and Doucheloser Owner #3 head upstairs for a blowjob.

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: What about the back of the house? Are you still doing the thing with the timed bells and using old military code on the printed tickets to keep the extremely mentally and emotionally disturbed head chef from snapping and murdering anyone?

Doucheloser Owner #1: Oh definitely. We actually had him convince his staff that they were all members of the Illuminati so everyone is just kind of working as a cohesive unit and he doesn’t even have to be there all that often.

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Oh thank god

Doucheloser Owner #2: Ok, I need to go, I have to get my 13 miles in today

Doucheloser Owner #1: Where are you running and how long will it take you I need you back at the hou...

Doucheloser Owner #2: Why do you always do this?!

Doucheloser Owners #1 and #2 disappear into the kitchen towards the back door. Borderline Retarded Manager #2 and Doucheloser Owner #3 come back downstairs.

Doucheloser Owner #3: Alright, well, I’m outta here. See you guys on the flipside! I’m headed to Austria for a month but I’ll swing through in a few weeks.

Doucheloser Owner #3 goes back upstairs and leaves through the main entrance. Borderline Managers #1 and #2 stand in the empty and silent bar.

Borderline Retarded Manager #1: Wanna get drunk?

Borderline Retarded Manager #2: Hell yes!!

FIN

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thewestenddavenportiowa · 6 years

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Eastside versus Westide! What WHAAT?!

Oh heeeeeeelllll no!

Yo!

Dis da Snoop Dogg of the Village of East Davenport.

Or is it the Kanye West?

Naw, imma go with the looks of Nototious B.I.G. with the quiet sensibilities yet thoughtful logic of Mos Def startin’ some open mic warz for no reason type ‘a shit chiming in.

You heard?!

It’s Iowa. It’s late August. There’s a severe thunderstorm warning with a tornado spotted touching down in I can’t remember exactly where, the news was comin’ in real spotty due to satellites not functioning *the best* in the weather that naturally occurs in Eastern Iowa in late August.

There were two choices tonight for comedic (and others very much encouraged) stage time. One was in an actual basement built to ensure the safety of its contents (I am referring to people) with a menu that cannot be beat (Sharknado Tacos are a thing and they are goddamn delicious), a bartender that will quietly and politely put up with just about anything and serve you a selection of beer that can’t be beat in an atmosphere that pleasant, and a collective Tasmanian Devil of kitchen staff that you would not want to meet in an alley but ABSOLUTELY deserve to trust with creating a delicious array of culinary delights named so hilariously that just coming in and reading the menu alone is enough to put you in metaphorical stitches.

The second? A pizza shop attached to a pretty cool bar with a secluded back room. I guess, technically, if god unleashed a rotating vortex of fury you’d also be safely tucked away in.

Which one had the balls to still attempt a show tonight?

*cough* EASTSIIIIIIDE! *cough*

Yo. I’m not saying throw all caution to the literal wind when it comes to the safety and security of your family and friends but if you were looking for an open mic and stage time the ballsy yet classy female host of the self-proclaimed albeit newer yet much better and more inclusive EASTSIDE open mic. had yo back tonight. Did she learn a lesson to maybe chill out and wait a few minutes because starting an open mic on actual time is not the preferred regional norm? Yes. I hope you’ll make the right choice next week.

GAME. ON! 🤘

🍕🥪👎

🌮🎂🍻🍔👍

*all in good fun we all just tryin’ ta entertain ya ‘an make sure you ‘eatin’ well, winter’s right ‘round the corner ya’ll

❤️

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thewestenddavenportiowa · 6 years

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Oh fuck. It’s Mississippi Valley Fair Week, ya’ll!!!

Oh hell naw.

I Googled ‘Mississippi Valley Fair history’ and all that really came up was this shitty article from the Davenport Public Library with such a promising title yet such disappointing content.

Here. Let me rewrite it.

Mississippi Valley Fair apparel then:

Mississippi Valley Fair apparel now:

Anyway, the collage pictured at the start of this post was found by doing a Google search for ‘white trash’ which are the first two words that come to mind when I think of the Mississippi Valley Fair held at the Mississippi Valley Fairgrounds on Locust Street, deep in the West End every summer.

I’m sorry not sorry that is what comes to mind first.

The second thing that comes to mind is a couple of years ago when I was pushing 400 bills and I skipped work to take my mom to the fair for a day of fair food and “fun”. By “fun” I of course mean “heartburn and the further perpetuation of type 2 diabetes” and then also a near death experience.

No. My near death experience was not a mild heart attack from the deep fried hamburger cake with funnel cakes for buns. It was from riding a ride that I absolutely should not have been allowed on both for weight limit and height reasons. It was a fucking kiddie ride.

The most horrifying kiddie ride in existence.

What was this beast called? ‘The Hurricane’.

By ‘Hurricane’ they are directly referencing both the flood of urine of which you will expel in uncontrollable terror as you take a spin on this whirling nightmare and then also the tears and vomit of which you’ll violently expel should you survive to make it off this metal death trap alive.

I know it totally seems like I am overreacting in recounting this experience to you right now but I swear to fucking christ almighty that I am For. Real.

Here’s the deal. Let’s start with an EXTREMELY brief and simplistic physics lesson in which I will define three basic terms:

Inertia - A property of matter in which it exists in its existing state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line, unless that state is changed by an external force.

Torque - A twisting force that tends to cause rotation.

Centrifugal Force - Blah, blah, blah, Newtonian Mechanics this and that, basically this is the force that causes shit spinning around an axis to be forced away from that centered axis.

When you are pushing 400 pounds and measuring in at over 6 feet tall and you are a *bit* top-heavy, DO. NOT. RIDE. A. QUICKLY-SPINNING (FROM A GREAT HEIGHT) EXTREMELY SHALLOW BUCKET SEATED. CARNIVAL. RIDE. IN. WHICH. YOU. AREN’T. PROPERLY. SECURED. VIA. SAFETY. HARNESS.

I’ve never held onto anything tighter than I held on to the metal safety harness bar that didn’t quite fit securely due to waist circumference in my life. I held on to that fucking ride that day harder than I held on to the delusion that I was going to medical school during the first semester of my freshman year at Iowa when I failed every single class but one because I got water and Hawkeye Vodka confused. Like every night.

Quick words to the carnie that let me ride that ride: Don’t be so lax! The median weight for fair attendees is probably somewhere around 375 pounds. Life is a numbers game and if you keep letting folks into rides without strapping them in fully it’s going to be a bloodbath.

Anyway, long story short, I survived college and The Hurricane and got a great story out of it to share with all of you.

So yeah. That was my most memorable Mississippi Valley Fair experience. Hope to see you there again this year!

FULL DISCLOSURE: I am absolutely going to try to get a job as a carnie at the fair next year, only if they’ll let me run that ride. I’m not strapping ANYONE in and I plan to play Zhu’s Stay Closer on repeat as loud as they’ll let me.

#minorkeymajorthrillsMVF2019

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thewestenddavenportiowa · 6 years

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The Meat Hill: A Sandwich You Can Get At The Meat Market (the bar) On Washington Street, 1 Block South Of The Taco Bell/Locust Street Intersection

I usually do the open mic at the Meat Market on Tuesday nights (9pm!) and do my best to give a mini “comedic” history lesson on something significant about the West End but this week I am just really feeling like a lazy and unmotivated piece of shit (truthfully, I only have so much motivation and it’s currently being used in a few other areas, this week and next being especially in need of all my available motivation powers) so I’m phoning it in the hardest ever and doing it remotely via blog:

So, I didn’t have a ton of time to research this week’s West End history lesson because I started filming a webseries, I’m publishing both a newspaper and book next month, and I’ve really been busy refocusing on my health after being a complete fucking slob for a little over a week just to see if I could commit to it.

You know what though? Those are just excuses. And if this week’s lesson was that important to me, I would absolutely make time for it.

Well, you people are in luck, because it’s that important to me. Not important enough to physically show up in-person, but important enough to write it.

And by ‘important to me’ I mean it makes me laugh to actually stand up here rambling about stuff that you all may or may not care about. And I think we can agree that you’re all collectively leaning pretty far to the ‘not care about’ end of things. Luckily, I’ve already made peace with that.

Honestly, I think one of the reasons I even get up here and do this is so that when I severely fuck up some other aspect of my real, actual life I can look back in fondness and realize that hey, Myself, you’re being a real boner right now with this huge and devastating mistake you’ve just made but at least it’s not as bad as when you are just wasting precious moments of both yourself and others’ lives by verbal diahreeahing (sp?) into a microphone to a room of silence (actually, this open mic is extremely supportive and fun). I’m sure everything will be just fine.

Speaking of boners, I wasn’t really sure what to get up here and ramble about today so I took a look at the new menu to look for a writing prompt. I really admire the creativity and historical accuracy of the different sandwich selections available however I would be lying to your faces if I didn’t admit that I was IMMEDIATELY drawn to ‘The Meat Hill’.

The sandwich is named in honor of Washington Street, literally right out there, and its assortment of meat markets that have apparently been a staple of this area both past and present.

It is not named after a sex act called ‘The Meat Hill’ because the absolute split second after I saw that was the name of one of the available sandwich options I instantly looked up ‘The Meat Hill’ in Urban Dictionary to get the “real definition”.

Devastatingly, it isn’t even an option on that site.

‘Meat Curtains’ is something that exists on Urban Dictionary as a defined word though, and ‘The Meat Hill’ does come piled with mounds of roast beef, however, I’m still very immature and very much needing to have ‘The Meat Hill’ be properly defined to me.

Is it a group of 13-15 dudes all piled on top of one another, intertwined and securely connected via dick and ass?

Is it a metaphorical hill referencing all the dicks you’ve let enter you only to wind up with an incurable disease or unwanted child? First of all, I feel like incurable disease and unwanted child are completely interchangeable and then also great job climbing that “hill”, dummy. If you want to put your body at risk why don’t you just go try CrossFit? At least the cons of that are less likely to lead to a major and unwanted lifelong responsibility.

Is ‘The Meat Hill’ when you go on a group double black diamond hike and then when everyone reaches the summit you all just collectively fuck to congratulate each other for the accomplishment you just achieved?

Well, unfortunately I can’t answer any of those questions because I just don’t know. What I do know is that I’m going to go home tonight and put those three as definitions for ‘The Meat Hill’ in Urban Dictionary so be sure to check in a few days.

Oh shit, I didn’t even say anything about the West End and its history. Fuck. Ok, um...

You know down at the very end of Washington Street, as you head towards the river, you know that cool lookout point down there on that bluff?

Are you sure the sandwich wasn’t named after that because I guarantee there is a meat hill extravaganza there like every night after dark with the number of parked cars and silhouettes I see when I pass by on my way home after this open mic every Tuesday.

Anyway, that’s all I got. Stay in school!

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