December 20th, 2010
The Week That Was 12.19.10
“Spontaneity is the spice of life and I’ve indulged quite a bit,” or so says Cee Lo. I’m not too high on calendars or schedules or evites or whatever fancy gadgets you kids are using these days. Champion is the night unplanned. This weekend was full of those kinds of opportunities for things both good and bad to pop up. Luckily for us they all turned up roses.
Song of the Week – “Scatman (Ski Ba Bop Ba Dop Bop)” by Scatman John
What is this nonsense? Even after a weekend full of talking about music – mostly the best albums of the 90’s – the fact that I’m writing this watching Nothing to Lose (one of maybe one and a half funny Martin Lawrence movies) takes precedence in the song of my choosing. So, taking the song from the sequence involving Tim Robbins freaking out over a spider is exactly what has to happen… Back in college this was one of those songs that we would end up playing after everyone got drunk because thought we were just sooooo funny and ironic. Yeah, well, we were. Deal with it. Anyway, enjoy… Maybe.
Quote of the Week – Of Stirring Apparatuses
“Woah, woah, woah! Don’t get the joint wet!”
“Well, I’m so sorry I’ve never stirred coffee with a goddamn hunting knife before!!
Cutting a Rug
If you’re going to live your life spontaneously you have to be prepared to deal with some lows. Eating alone is one of those lows. I’ve grown to appreciate the act. It’s been a long time since I’ve wandered into Ruggles Cafe Bakery in Rice Village. Once upon a time it was a regular joint to drop in order a burger and Reese’s cookie and be on my way. Friday night, I decided to drop in, grab a seat at the counter and grab one of their roast pork loin sandwiches on a jalapeno bun. The fryers were down, so I wasn’t able to add the delicious sweet potato fries to my order, but fresh fruit turned out to be a better replacement.
PJ at Your Service
Forget the fact that you feel like the floor may at any point break away under your feet once you climb the stairs of the bar, I’d rather witness and participate in karaoke at PJ’s Sports Bar than just about any other place in town. The creaky floors, the ripped up bathrooms, the shortage of drink selections; they all play a role in attracting just the right kind of amateur singer to the stage. Friday night felt like I was crashing a birthday party or class reunion of some kind, but, as I explained to my friends this weekend, for some reason I feel more comfortable when I’m on the outside looking in. Friday night’s performers were the perfect mix of good and terrible. You might think you want every singer to blow you away when you walk in, but we all know that the terrible performances are even more entertaining than the good ones. Now, if someone could please explain to me why the DJ didn’t have “Jenny Says” in his library of songs I would be happy.
With a trip to Anvil already under our belt, Richard and I decided that we needed to take our friend from out of town to Liberty Station for a burger from the Hubcap Grill food truck. Well, imagine our dismay when we pulled into the tiny parking lot to find a yellow vendor parked in the spot that the fire engine red burger truck usually calls home. What do these Zilla Street Eats fools think they’re doing standing between me and my Cheetos burger? When I approached the truck to see what the Zilla team had to offer and then asked for the best thing on the menu—I was told the Dirty Burger. Shit. Just. Got. Real. Could I trade my craving for another? Let’s just say when I was served a burger piled high with mac ‘n cheese, fries and the regular stuff, a tear was shed. Then the sarache cheese steak; then mac ‘n cheese loaded with pulled pork; then fried Nutter Butters… it was a night of heavenly food truck fare.
Gentleman’s Four Loko
Running out of room in our bellies for more beer, our group celebrating what came to be known as “Mansmas” left the friendly grounds of Liberty Station to find a spot at the bar of Kenneally’s for Bushmill’s Single Malt. The short glasses of Scotch were quickly substituted for hot mugs of Irish Coffee. After a quick debate, we were convinced that this is how Four Loko should be. In fact, it’s nothing but the Gentleman’s Four Loko. Top hats, monocles and stomping the divots be damned. After that was established we made our way through more important matters like the Best Albums of the 90s and, even paramount to that, the best pieces of ass of our formative decade. Such is “Mansmas” a metaphor for life… or something like that.