November 15th, 2010

The Week That Was 11.14.10

Grocery stores scare the ever-living ish out of me. I’m not really sure what causes all the anxiety. It’s not like I’m a political exile from Iran who is not used to seeing such foodstuff in abundance. Every time I walk into the rows of cereal, cherry tomatoes, paper towels and frozen dinners my heart starts pounding in my chest and I can feel my hair start to fall out. It’s the strangest thing.

Somehow on Sunday night, I found myself wandering through towers of coffee beans and peanut butter trying to stock a pantry that has been long neglected. Looking down at my cart, I realized the only think I bought fit for my refrigerator was a stack of ham and turkey for sandwiches. Though the boxes of graham crackers and bags of Doritos will surely serve me down the line, I truly have a bit of work to do if I’m to learn how to grocery shop effectively.


Purple Haze All in My Brain
I showed up to Jackson’s Watering Hole to hang out on the periphery of a birthday party already in progress. The spot on Richmond took over the old, mellow, gay bar, Decades recently. They’ve dressed it up a bit from the worn-down pool hall that it once was. The most notable thing about Jackson’s is the gravitation toward Louisiana dive. With various Abita brews on tap, I decided to start in on a pint of Purple Haze. Served in a glass frosted purple near the base, I realized after the first one that the fruity rendition by Abita isn’t my favorite and turned to the Amber Ale after the last sip. Then the karaoke machine was set up… The next beer became my last beer as I escaped under the cover of darkness before someone could convince me to take the mic.

Blondes vs. Brunettes vs. Free Beer – Who ya got?
It’s pretty obvious what the answer to that question is. Brewskis win out every time. The Blondes vs. Brunettes had one of their semi-annual fundraisers on Thursday night at Vintage Lounge. With our kickball game being rained out (I’m not really sure I agree with a preemptive rain out being called by the umps, but whatever), I had my night’s plan made for me. Plastic pint after plastic pint of the good stuff – Shiner Cheer – led to some interesting moves on Thursday. “She who will remain nameless, but is definitely the fiance of a friend of mine” found her groove as midnight approached. All it took was the opening beat from Bootylicious and we lost her to the rhythm forever. She went so far as to grab a crutch to use it as a stripper pole. None of us were judging. Nope. Not by a long shot. Who am I kidding? That’s all I know how to do. Kelly, I can’t handle this.


Mini-Hunt Leads to Mega-Questions
“What does it mean,” Richard asks me. I really have no idea how to answer that question which is exactly why I’m so looking forward to the  Stick ‘Em Up documentary. “Give Up” seems to mean many different things to many different people, which is why, I think, we can classify it as “art” and not as “urban depravity”.  With the ladies on a run to the Nutcracker Market, Richard and I set off to go watch some college football, but not before taking a brief detour to hunt down a piece that I had heard about (seen in the header image and later today in Houston Street Art: The Wild Styles). We ended up coming across one of the newest pieces by Coolidge as well, a raccoon on what is turning out to be a street art magnet in the Heights. Late on Sunday night I spied a My Little Pony by Coolidge. The first person to photograph it and put it in our Street Art Group on Flickr gets a prize. Not sure what that prize will be, but still…


A Legend is Born
After watching the Cougars dig themselves a hole unable to be climbed out of (again), I took my talents to Cecil’s Pub to throw down some Saint Arnold Christmas Ale. It’s hard to say that a legend was born that night. Legends are never really born, are they. They’re discovered by. They’re feats documented. They’re strengths worshiped. And so, Dustin Lacquer was remembered and revered during a full night of revelry while listening to the British bombast of Arctic Monkeys. I did learn one thing (besides being inspired by many a Dustin Lacquer tale) on Saturday night. My comedic chops are no match for those of Richard and Tea Jones. As I tried to recall my first encounter with The DL, I couldn’t quite bring the fervor of laughter up to the level at which Richard had me trying to hold in my bursts of laughing resulting in tears at the table. Maybe one day. And maybe Dustin Lacquer will be the one to teach me how.


We Wants It. We Needs It.
After church on Sunday (yes, church), I made my way down to Hobbit Cafe to meet up with the culprits from the night before. They were already finished with their brunch, but Richard, Tea Jones and their better halves stuck around to watch me eat a plate full of Eggs and Chorizo. They watched quietly as I poured a spoonful of syrup into my coffee thinking that it was honey. We call it “Cafe con Canada”. If you haven’t tried it, it’s a must… If only to help save me from the embarrassment of doing it. Please, add some syrup to your fresh cup the next time you have the opportunity. Perhaps it’s a trend that can have its roots in The Loop Scoop. Please. Or just think of me the next time you’re a bit hungover, not thinking clearly and pondering what kind of sugary solution rests in front of you. (Photo above is from Subspace’s photo stream on Flickr and was the meal of choice for Jones’ lady.)

— Paul


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