We went to The Pool Hall tonight. I love The Pool Hall. *So* much, in fact, I must capitalize inappropriately.

The place is tiny, dimly lit, reeks of cigarette smoke and attics. The pool tables are too close together so you are constantly assualting others w/your cue stick and most of the tables are warped. Drinks are a dollar, the owner *really* abides by the sign hanging over the bar: Prices Vary According to Attitude, and the shitty speakers in the corner are always playing some kind of classic rock like Queen or the Kinks. Well, except Saturdays when it's 80s night but we'll get into that later.

The owner is native to the town and enjoys bitching about the tourists. He doesn't care that I never have enough money to tip. In fact, I've never paid more than a dollar an hour even on the busiest nights. He looks like a cross between John Waters and Steve Buscemi. He'll ignore a line of customers at the bar to give out pool tips to a couple girls hexing the cue ball i.e. us. I think he was once one of the Top 10 Best Pool Players in the Whole World. Seriously. #3 in 1970something frequents the place and they always seem to be conspiring on something.

The Pool Hall is on the outskirts of a rather rough part of town. Lots of times, there will be cops busting up some kind of fight, drug deal, riot just down the street but in the many years I have been going to The Pool Hall, I've never seen anything crazy go down. It's like there's some sort of unwritten Pool Hall Code that everyone abides by. If they don't, the owner charges them $20 an hour and they never come back. Most people are scared of the place, come to think of it.

There's a group of regulars that we always see when we go play. Sometimes we'll see one of them outside The Pool Hall at like, Wal-Mart or something, and we'll be greeted like old friends. Even if that's the first exchange of words ever. The bonds you develop over the sounds of clacking cue balls and Bohemian Rhapsody. I am holding tight to the belief that I will one day meet my cosmic match at The Pool Hall. He will challenge me to a game, I will kick his ass, and he will love me. Feasible, no?

Tonight was a strange night at The Pool Hall. Here are 5 reasons why:

1)I played unbelievably well. I mean, I'm *good* but tonight I was opening up cans of whup-ass all over the damn place.

2)80s Night. You, 80s Night DJ, you know who you are. In what universe is it OK to turn AC/DC 'Shook Me All Night Long' and Bon Jovi 'Shot Through the Heart' into a *dance* mix? Dude, and fucking Guns n Roses. NO. WRONG. There will be a flaming bag of dog poo on your doorstep in the morning. Hearing this totally fucked-up my mojo. Heh, I have a mojo.

3)Romance Novel Man. Romance Novel Man is this foxy Mexican boy in his early twenties w/longish curly hair he keeps in a non-sleazy ponytail. He always wears black jeans and tight red muscle tees. He looks like he belongs on the cover of a romance novel, hence the name. We admire him from afar but one time my friend saw him peeing. He was there tonight after a three month hiatus and, my heart breaks just typing this, now has a glorified mullet. I tried to say it was a confused pompadour but finally had to admit that yes, it was indeed a mullet. A glorified fucking mullet.

4)A cute skater boy was checking out my ass. *No one* checks out my ass. Ever. I don't even think I have an ass to check out. The feeling of flattery lasted about five minutes then I jabbed him in the shins w/my stick.

5)This group of 12 year old kids at the center table. Jesus fucking Christ on a donkey...and I thought *my* generation grew up too fast. I dunno. If I talk about this I fear I'm going to morph into an old man. I already have too much to explain to my parents.

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