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sunlore wrote:I was working at a friend's bookshop for a few days before christmas and one day a white dude came in wearing bandana with a feather stuck in it and this non-descript shit-brown garb. Total fucking hippie, right? He came right to the counter and ordered something antropological about (yes!) native Americans, like some Carlos Castaneda book, so I took an order form and asked for his name and he said (I'll translate this): "Robert Olde Beaver Creek."

I literally sank to the floor laughing. It was embarrasing. I later went through the phonebook and actually found the name in there.

Robert Olde Beaver Creek. Carlos Castaneda. So good.

If I had to guess, this guy was at least part American Indian, based on the name.

On New Year's Eve, Ben and I were walking back from watching the fireworks and gunfire on both sides of the Bay. Alameda is a strange city and is often described as "the land that time forgot." Basically, all of the buildings are pre-1960 structure, Victorian houses, small independently owned shops, and other from a few small mall areas, the island looks like Ann Arbour, MI with an occasional out of place palm tree.

So, we're walking back to our house and approach the bowling alley, which is an old school alley where you know that the patrons inside will definitely respect the rule of the "bowler to the right." It's clearly not a place where hipsters go to be ironic. It looks like an actual, midwestern bowling alley.

The waves are gently lapping at the shore behind us, the scent of smoke from fireplaces or stoves is faint in the air, the holiday lights on the houses and trees are lit, and the youth of Alameda are engaging in wholesome fun inside the bowling alley. It's like a scene out of a Rockwell painting, when suddenly, the illusion of Americana is broken by:

"I WANT MY FUCKIN' 1500 DOLLARS, THAT'S WHAT!!!!"

As we approach the bowling alley, we realize that the screaming is coming from a well-dressed black man using the payphone near the bowling alley main entrance. He is screaming to the point that most of what he says becomes incomprehensible. I haven't heard anyone scream with this amount of fervor in years. The party on the other end of the line seemed to owe him quite a hefty chunk of money, some of which he needed for the following morning, with which he was to buy "chicken for church."

I cannot fathom what stream of events culminated prior to this phone call (drugs? gambling? a failed business venture? midgets?), nor can I understand why the call was being placed on a pay phone outside a bowling alley in Alameda, roughly 10 minutes after 2008 was heralded in, but the ridiculousness of the situation was pretty much the funniest thing I've witnessed in ages.

Irate Man Blinded With New Year's Eve Rage, I hope you found the cash to buy your chicken for church. Salut!

Mark Hansen wrote:

sunlore wrote:I was working at a friend's bookshop for a few days before christmas and one day a white dude came in wearing bandana with a feather stuck in it and this non-descript shit-brown garb. Total fucking hippie, right? He came right to the counter and ordered something antropological about (yes!) native Americans, like some Carlos Castaneda book, so I took an order form and asked for his name and he said (I'll translate this): "Robert Olde Beaver Creek."

I literally sank to the floor laughing. It was embarrasing. I later went through the phonebook and actually found the name in there.

Robert Olde Beaver Creek. Carlos Castaneda. So good.

If I had to guess, this guy was at least part American Indian, based on the name.

Yeah, but it just could be a Dutch name. I've a good friend who's name is (in translation) "Small Bean Field." The guy was full-on Dutch, I could tell.

Somehow a female friend and I found this clip on Youtube last night.

A bunch of people smoked a lot of weed, bought a Timmy the Tooth tape on VHS, and muted the sound, and watching it for the first time just overdubbed some voices. Its completely unscripted.

The part with the octopus just KILLS me; the first few minutes of this is extremely funny. I actually started crying I was laughing so hard.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EC-UAQNMZhc

Mandroid2.0 wrote: The party on the other end of the line seemed to owe him quite a hefty chunk of money, some of which he needed for the following morning, with which he was to buy "chicken for church."

Maybe "chicken for church" is a code word/euphemism for something very sinister like "profits from pimping your sister".

chet wrote:I actually started crying I was laughing so hard.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EC-UAQNMZhc

Were you high when you watched it?

sunlore wrote:

Mark Hansen wrote:

sunlore wrote:I was working at a friend's bookshop for a few days before christmas and one day a white dude came in wearing bandana with a feather stuck in it and this non-descript shit-brown garb. Total fucking hippie, right? He came right to the counter and ordered something antropological about (yes!) native Americans, like some Carlos Castaneda book, so I took an order form and asked for his name and he said (I'll translate this): "Robert Olde Beaver Creek."

I literally sank to the floor laughing. It was embarrasing. I later went through the phonebook and actually found the name in there.

Robert Olde Beaver Creek. Carlos Castaneda. So good.

If I had to guess, this guy was at least part American Indian, based on the name.

Yeah, but it just could be a Dutch name. I've a good friend who's name is (in translation) "Small Bean Field." The guy was full-on Dutch, I could tell.

Sorry, I didn't pick up that it was in Dutch, not English. That is funny.

So what is "Robert Olde Beaver Creek" in Dutch, anyway?

Tonight at dinner.

Colonel Panic wrote:So what is "Robert Olde Beaver Creek" in Dutch, anyway?

"Robert Oude Bever Kreek"