August 23rd, 2010
The Week That Was 8.22.10
I have never been good at being fake. My fake smile has cracks that show through to my contempt. My fake laugh is at the very least unsettling. Just pretending to be nice to people that I don’t really feel the need to pander to is a difficulty. So, when I tell you that I had a bit of a complex about my high school self, and this self had to come face to face with his peers at his ten year reunion, you might understand that it bred a bit of anxiety.
Saturday, I walked into the party room at the Cadillac Bar on Shepherd near I-10 expecting the worse. Ten years is a long time. A lot of change happens. A lot of growing up occurs. Maturity and the inescapable fact that you are now “grown up” takes hold. That doesn’t stop the pimple-ridden, awkward, skinny, swimmer nerd from poking his head up and screaming, “you don’t know me. You never talked to me in high school. Tell me my name without looking at the tag on my shirt.”
Luckily, I was able to surpress the urge to exact my revenge on the jocks and popular girls. Honestly, I had a good time despite myself. Sure, the popular girls are still popular and the jocks are still jocky, but it’s comforting to see that some things don’t change that much. Those friendships that you were jealous of in the locker-lined halls for four years have survived the test of time. In a quiet way it is something of which to be proud.
Saturday night I might not have been the social butterfly that I came to be during college, but at least I didn’t sit in a corner by myself waiting for someone to notice me. And, trust me, when I first arrived I thought that was exactly what would happen. Consider my complex about being an invisible teenager demolished… well, to be honest, being unofficially voted “most improved since high school,” doesn’t hurt the healing process. Finally. Acceptance.
Vacationing at Brasil
These days its difficult to just pick up and get away from it all. Things like money and vacation time are hard to come by. On a frustrating day at the office on Tuesday I really needed to get out and away from the world. Sinking into a bottle of Balvenie seemed like a good choice, but I convinced myself that going on a safari would be more productive. Sure, this safari was only around the Montrose and Midtown area doing my best to capture more of the wildlife (see: Houston Street Art) and my cabin happened to be the back patio at Cafe Brasil, but it did the trick and I emerged from my moments of self-loathing with a bit of perspective and tad of production. Brasil is definitely one of the places in Houston to be an escapist.
A Pie from Pink’s
Moving to the Heights has been a boon to my level of comfort and a plight on my wallet. I may not be closer to the original Pink’s Pizza on 14th than I was to the Montrose location less than a year ago, but it feels like it and that’s what counts. After shelving my addiction to McDonald’s I’ve had a hard to figuring out what exactly to eat on a nightly basis. It turns out that ordering a large pizza for myself and eating the leftovers the next two nights is the perfect substitute. Don’t judge me. The pizza usually has things on it like vegetables and fruits. It’s almost a well-rounded meal. Actually, I won’t hear otherwise. This is the healthiest I’ve eaten since I was twenty years old.
Returning to the Stomping Grounds
If I’m going to be going to Anvil, I will be doing it at an hour earlier than ten. This is a rule that I had to set for myself since frustration started setting in due to not being able to push my way to the bar on any given weekend. This Friday I exercised my new rule and found success. There are few bad things that I could say about one of my favorite bars in Houston, but being too popular seems like a pretty petty thing to point out. Damn you, Anvil. Why can’t you be the connoisseurs cocktail oasis of old? I miss my nights sitting at the bar having a non-conversation with a busy bartender.
Reunion with an Irish Pub
After all the happenings at the ten-year reunion, I was feeling a bit out of place. The afterparty ended up being at Vintage, a place that I had sworn off a long time ago. One of the best things about Vintage is that it is relatively close to Kenneally’s which allowed for a stealthy exit for a more private drink less than a mile away. My teenage self left the party thankful, but the current edition of Paul was itching to find a place to sit and enjoy a pint instead of watching all the young, yuppies in waiting parade in wearing button-down Ralph Lauren shirts, khaki shorts, boat shoes and a barrage of “brochacho” comments. I ended my night in the far-from-crowded confines of the Irish pub, Kenneally’s with just enough time to reflect on an evening of missed meetings and reconnections.
Bonus Note of the Week
We don’t necessarily like pointing out the “competition.” Let’s face it, The Loop Scoop doesn’t have the money or following that a site like CultureMap garners. That doesn’t mean that we aren’t a little proud when we outperform the behemoth. Take our article on the new additions to the Oxford English Dictionary. I had fun writing it and never really dreamed than anyone else would want to “cover” the same off-beat news. Lo and behold, Culturemap published one of their own articles on the destruction of the English language on Sunday. So, I ask you, Loopsters… Am I flattered that we beat them to the punch with a better – from what readers so far have said – take on the issue? Or do I raise a ruckus? I vote for ruckus, but that’s just me.
Bonus Note #2: Everybody knows your Name (Marc)
After getting all dolled up for the House of Blues Pajama Party at the Foundation Room, our group needed to find a place for a night cap. We settled on Cheerz, the new bar and grill that’s just opened in Midtown. While they might not know your name, Tim makes sure you know his as he greets you at the door with a handshake. That was probably the highlight of the night as the bar was outrageously hot and the service was horrible. I’m willing to give it another chance as it only opened a few weeks ago, but right now, Cheerz is just another nameless midtown bar without much going for it.