23 September 2006

 

About Town With Hank "Jumbo" Syrah

Dateline: Dirty drunkard Sunday

In a most frightful Irish establishment at a six way intersection. Bartender nice guy, about to go to a party celebrating his sister's acceptance into the police academy. Large girls drink tall beers. A most motley assortment wearing football jerseys yells at a standup table.

A guy walks in, says he just beat up his friend. He has a bloody hand to prove it. He is most offputting, as are all those who have recently scuffled. He shakes and quivers and text messages insults to his friend. Then he eats a shepard's pie and calms down. This place is quite frisky this wet afternoon.

A lurking lurcher sits nearby, guy in a cap. He wastes no time but rather flings himself upon the large girls. He goes from "how are you" to "yeah right there" faster than seemingly humanly possible. More people in football uniforms arrive and are soaked. A drenched Michigan apple comes over for a chat. She cannot stay alas because she is "chafing."

Bluejeans, no underwear and getting drenched can result in painful itching and burning.

Dateline: Rib shack next to movie theater.

Beef briscuit sandwiches and a well built bloody mary go together like a cock and a comb. The secret is a good sauce on the briscuit and brined vegetables in the bloody. Remember when good hearted waitresses made you think just maybe "everything's going to be alright?" The waitress here makes one feel nourished spiritually as well as calorically with the massive cow sandwich she delivers to our faces.

"Talladega Nights" is the movie. It is no "Ron Burgundy" but provides mild divertisement on $5 ghetto Tuesdays which yes, include movie, small popcorn and parking for five dollah to make you hollah. Is America at the "cusp of heretofore unknown glory" or falling into a "puddle of its own sick?" "Talladega Nights" seems to offer evidence for both scenarios.

Dateline: Backyard barbecue with artists.

Skinny types insert encased meat into lubricated mouths. There are two grills, so sickly vegans do not have to touch meat. Strange characters introduce themselves near the ravaged homemade "margarita bar." Critically requiring: a quality shaker, homemade ice cubes and kosher salt. Artists are always a dizzying assortment of pouting and conspiring but occasionally they pull out the good stuff late at night – like an old handwritten young magician's notebook. Obsession it is said is the mark of a future great magician. And this drawing filled notebook displays it in spades.

One strange character turns out later to have an art show with lots of white teddy bears that weeks later still has the power to frighten just by thinking about those god forsaken bears piled face down in the middle of the floor.

Dateline: TV sodden sports bar

Always bring a gay guy to a sports bar – something to shake away the clodden dumbassery eating chicken wings and staring at screens. This bar though is different in that a magician comes up to us. A big guy but smooth, he asks us politely to do some tricks and turns out to be real good. Cards, coins, even a little chemical explosion in his palm. Magic goes by many names - sometimes even "John for Events and Parties."

How much do you tip your tableside magician? Our table overtips. The magician moves on. Our group leaves the barrage of TVs and walks into a quiet treelit night.

To fight, fornicate or get enlightened we know not whither or whether we stagger.

Comments:
Seriously, I tried leaving you a comment on the post previous to this one (a while ago), but the blogger went buggy, so I threw a fit and yelled at the screen for a while.

Meat is good! Why do animals have to be so delicious?? Vegans eat plants, which are also lifeforms, ironic is it not??

Where is my FedEx package of naked attractive women at?! I want a full refund!
 
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