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Even though our gig last weekend at Houlihan's in Garland was cut short by the rain, it was still one of the best gigs we've had in a long time. Right from the start, everyone on the staff of this establishment was friendly and helpful. It's like they just couldn't do enough for us, and trust me, we ain't used to that. Of course I would never single anyone out, but suffice it to say that not all club owners exhibit this kind of attitude toward the bands in their employ. It would be easy to mistake the typical club owner for a saboteur sent by a rival club, because they seem hell-bent on creating unnecessary difficulty and making decisions that cost them money. In contrast, Houlihan's seems to have a talent for creating win-win-win situations.
As I was lugging my crap onto the patio with a scowl on my face, the manager came up and introduced himself. It kind of floored me because as the drummer, I'm used to being ignored. I can tell you from experience that social skills and articulateness are not prerequisites for running establishments that hire bands, yet he had both. The whole staff seemed to genuinely enjoy creating the best experience they could for their customers, and what was even weirder was that they actually seemed to like working together... Houlihan's is like the Southwest Airlines of DFW restaurants (if you replaced the flamboyant flight attendants manufacturing contrived perkiness with more genuine human beings).
The experience was so good that I wasn't even thrown by the male stripper that showed up after we had to call the game because of rain. Ya see, the whole reason we were playing at Houlihan's is that a friend of Kyle the Guitar Player's was celebrating her birthday there. The woman orchestrating this surprise party had requested that Afterlife play there and she also had the presence of mind to engage the services of a stripper. She had expressly chosen this tall muscular Italian stud. Unfortunately, he must have gotten busy plucking his unibrow, because this little Filipino fella showed up instead. He took the novel approach of pretending to be a cop arresting the birthday girl on a noise complaint. But see he was actually a STRIPPER, not a cop (he even had the tear-away pants)! I've never seen that one before... Anyway, if I had known that love handles didn't preclude a career as a stripper, I could have been moonlighting to make extra money ever since I turned 40. It really didn't help that he was buttless, either. That poor little thong had nothing but a pancake ass to cling to. The advantage is that I'm sure no one kicked his ass in grade school because they couldn't find it. At any rate, the performance quickly degenerated into a hostage situation, with Filipino Fred posing the birthday girl in all sorts of contrived positions so that he could foist his suggestive moves on her. The woman who hired the stripper vowed to get her money back, because let's face it, you can't send a Filipino to do an Italian's work.
Have I mentioned that there's a stripper pole at Monkey's, the site of our gig this Saturday? Yes, that's the closest I could come to a segue. I'd just like to point out that I have an excellent view of the stripper pole, and I'd really rather not see anyone afflicted with pancake ass or difficulties associated with having a Y chromosome (or both) on that pole on Saturday. See you at:
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