We’ve decided to create a mega-über-ultimabracket for the H-Town Showdown. Gone are the days of random, one-on-one matchups. Here are the days of organized chaos imparted by simply drawing lines, connecting them, and calling it a “tournament”.
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Happy Monday to all. Hopefully the weekend treated you well, whether you went out to the Mutt Strut, First Saturday Arts Market or even the opening of The Orange Show. We’ll have a full scoop on the last one of those for you later this week. For now, let’s break down some of the notables of last week. A new bar graces our list this week and we revisit some old friends as well. You gotta remember your roots, right?
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By far, this was one of our busiest weeks yet. Several places/events had to be left off the this week’s edition of TWTW just because of sheer amount of stuff we took part in. It will come as no surprise that the week was initiated with a trip to Anvil. Of course, there was also the Rodeo Cookoff. But, with two obvious bookends, where did the rest of the week lead? Hint, one saves you money, another celebrates Dia De Los Muertos every day, a third is a proud proponent of taxidermy, and we even threw in a high school musical for good measure.
In 5 Words: List, Exclusive, Red, Mash-Up, Masquerade
“I’m having a party and you’re going to be there,” is much less a request for an RSVP than it is a demand. Considering the source, it should even be taken as a threat. Being the social recluse that I pretend to be, I can still put up a deferential fight. The joy of appearing aloof 84.7% of the time is that I can usually appear to agree with something without ever committing to the affirmative.
“What kind of party are you having?” is my first of a long line of questions meant to confuse and distract Afrodet, who is extending the invitation/demand.
“It’s a masquerade party. You are dressing up. It will be at Red Room.”
And that was that. In fewer than twenty words, I had been forced into a situation in which I never dreamed I would take part. Now, dressed in a suit, a mask concealed in the jacket pocket, and less than a full magazine of confidence, I’m turning left on Virginia St. from Westheimer hoping I don’t like this place too much.
