After getting back to our room after souvenir shopping, Alienwhere and I not only realized our emergency ration kit whiskey was dangerously running low, but that the club we were playing that night (which we’ve played before) only served beer.
[Panic].
For those of you who don’t know, Alienwhere is a whiskey drinker, and my drink of choice is vodka.
While at the front desk getting a toothbrush to clean his shoes, Alienwhere inquired where the nearest liquor store was. THANK GOODNESS there was one not to far from the hotel so he and I grabbed the van keys and went off on our liquor run.
A: heh. It was called “Frugal McDoogal’s Liquor Warehouse”. You can only imagine how awesome that trip was…
Showing posts with label nashville. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nashville. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Souvenirs
A: One of the things we all like about being on the road in new places is trying to find the most insane souvenirs to bring back, usually basing our criteria on some level of humor and/or inappropriateness, but this can also be a kind of trophy, as Marconi’s most prized take-home was a hat actually worn by a real Waffle House waitress. He believed, and rightly so, that a hat bought from a store, or online isn’t as meaningful as one that saw battle action in the trenches of the heart attack factory that is Waffle House. I usually make an attempt to find either the most whacked-out t-shirt or shot glass or whatever. Well, one of the great things about being in the South is that there is NO shortage of insane crap, with wildly inappropriate things printed on them. Here are some faves from yesterday.
“I Pledge Allegiance To The Flags” - And that would be the flags that signal the end of a Nascar race, and a flag the represents the very best ideals our country used to embrace in certain parts - slave ownership, incest, and secession. Wearing this hat actually makes you dumber.
“Ditch The Bitch – Let’s Go Drinkin’” – Ah, what a robust and well-intentioned statement about one’s priorities. We’ve all been there. The double-wide has a leak that you don’t feel like fixin’, the kids are screaming, you’re fresh out of beer, and that goddamned old lady is harpin’ on you to get off your shiftless ass and do something. Is there anything else that needs be said at this point? Ditch the bitch, let’s go drinkin’.
Just after you’ve ditched the bitch, and before you head out for a big night/afternoon/morning of drinking, you may want to throw on this prize. Clearly articulating your intentions in being out and about, and leaving no room for misinterpretation, this little number saves countless minutes of explanation when you go out behind the dumpster for some face time with the toothless skank who you met by the cigarette machine. Yes, “I Fuck On The First Date” tells the world that you’re a man of distinction, with refined tastes and a sense of propriety that nobody’s taking away from you.
Not a t-shirt this time, but COMPLETELY racist and horribly inappropriate. The last time we were here, I brought home a variety of these for my close friends and was welcomed with hugs and tears of joy. We actually saw these in two places, one of which was a shop that was staffed by a burly black man, and I just could not for the life of me imagine how hard he would hit me if I brought one up to the counter to purchase it. Utter hilarity.
L: Fans and Readers, You can’t imagine the look on my face when Alienwhere and I first laid eyes on this display.
And the winner, at least for me, is this. “Whiskey Makes Me Frisky”. I walked past this at least twice, before I came to my senses and realized that I HAD to buy it. I imagine one day, I’ll find that special lady, who is willing to throw this thing on, and I will laugh and laugh. And then ask her to marry me. Marconi remarked that it’s a bit like Cindarella’s slipper, which I think is right on the money. Many may try it, but only one will be able to wear it… here’s hoping.
L: I think Alienwhere should wear this wifebeater himself.
“I Pledge Allegiance To The Flags” - And that would be the flags that signal the end of a Nascar race, and a flag the represents the very best ideals our country used to embrace in certain parts - slave ownership, incest, and secession. Wearing this hat actually makes you dumber.
“Ditch The Bitch – Let’s Go Drinkin’” – Ah, what a robust and well-intentioned statement about one’s priorities. We’ve all been there. The double-wide has a leak that you don’t feel like fixin’, the kids are screaming, you’re fresh out of beer, and that goddamned old lady is harpin’ on you to get off your shiftless ass and do something. Is there anything else that needs be said at this point? Ditch the bitch, let’s go drinkin’.
Just after you’ve ditched the bitch, and before you head out for a big night/afternoon/morning of drinking, you may want to throw on this prize. Clearly articulating your intentions in being out and about, and leaving no room for misinterpretation, this little number saves countless minutes of explanation when you go out behind the dumpster for some face time with the toothless skank who you met by the cigarette machine. Yes, “I Fuck On The First Date” tells the world that you’re a man of distinction, with refined tastes and a sense of propriety that nobody’s taking away from you.
Not a t-shirt this time, but COMPLETELY racist and horribly inappropriate. The last time we were here, I brought home a variety of these for my close friends and was welcomed with hugs and tears of joy. We actually saw these in two places, one of which was a shop that was staffed by a burly black man, and I just could not for the life of me imagine how hard he would hit me if I brought one up to the counter to purchase it. Utter hilarity.
L: Fans and Readers, You can’t imagine the look on my face when Alienwhere and I first laid eyes on this display.
And the winner, at least for me, is this. “Whiskey Makes Me Frisky”. I walked past this at least twice, before I came to my senses and realized that I HAD to buy it. I imagine one day, I’ll find that special lady, who is willing to throw this thing on, and I will laugh and laugh. And then ask her to marry me. Marconi remarked that it’s a bit like Cindarella’s slipper, which I think is right on the money. Many may try it, but only one will be able to wear it… here’s hoping.
L: I think Alienwhere should wear this wifebeater himself.
Viva El Rey!
L: One of our favorite haunts in Nashville is a little Mexican place by the name of El Rey. YUM!!! Elle insists on eating there at least once while we’re in town. We invited our friend Dutch to meet us there for lunch.
We drive downtown and walk around a bit, as we had some time to kill before meeting up with Dutch at Gruhn Guitars on Broadway. We kinda window shopped mostly before making our way down to Gruhn.
Inside Gruhn the members of Sister Kisser looked at/tried out various types of stringed instruments. Probably the most unusual? Marconi test drove a TWELVE string bass. TWELVE.
Our friend arrived shortly after and we headed over to El Rey for lunch, which was only a few blocks away. As we walked, Elle took the lead and couldn’t wait to get there, she’d been anticipating this lunch for weeks now. She really does Love, Love, Love this place.
We walk in the crowded Monday afternoon lunch hour and grab a table for five. A waiter comes to our table and brings us some chips and delicious spicy salsa and proceeds to take our drink order. We all studied our menus drooling over the possibilities of what to get.
As I said, the restaurant was EXTREMELY crowded and the wait staff was INCREDIBLY busy. So as we’re sitting and chatting about this and that, we’re making observations about the restaurant, making snarky comments and just joking around in general. At one point Marconi, with his back to the kitchen, didn’t see our busy waiter just about to pass our table and [jokingly, but quite audibly] exclaimed “Where the hell’s our goddamned waiter?” You couldn’t have asked for better comedic timing.
The waiter, who was carrying another customers food, totally heard the comment JUST as he passed our table and turned and just shot Marconi a WTF? glance. While we all thought this was pretty funny, and ONLY this could happen to him, we’re pretty sure our waiter made us wait a little longer before he came back to take our food order.
Oh.
And none of the rest of us ordered the same thing as Marconi.
Just to be safe.
A: I laughed a lot about this. And picturing the things that might end up in Marconi’s food.
We drive downtown and walk around a bit, as we had some time to kill before meeting up with Dutch at Gruhn Guitars on Broadway. We kinda window shopped mostly before making our way down to Gruhn.
Inside Gruhn the members of Sister Kisser looked at/tried out various types of stringed instruments. Probably the most unusual? Marconi test drove a TWELVE string bass. TWELVE.
Our friend arrived shortly after and we headed over to El Rey for lunch, which was only a few blocks away. As we walked, Elle took the lead and couldn’t wait to get there, she’d been anticipating this lunch for weeks now. She really does Love, Love, Love this place.
We walk in the crowded Monday afternoon lunch hour and grab a table for five. A waiter comes to our table and brings us some chips and delicious spicy salsa and proceeds to take our drink order. We all studied our menus drooling over the possibilities of what to get.
As I said, the restaurant was EXTREMELY crowded and the wait staff was INCREDIBLY busy. So as we’re sitting and chatting about this and that, we’re making observations about the restaurant, making snarky comments and just joking around in general. At one point Marconi, with his back to the kitchen, didn’t see our busy waiter just about to pass our table and [jokingly, but quite audibly] exclaimed “Where the hell’s our goddamned waiter?” You couldn’t have asked for better comedic timing.
The waiter, who was carrying another customers food, totally heard the comment JUST as he passed our table and turned and just shot Marconi a WTF? glance. While we all thought this was pretty funny, and ONLY this could happen to him, we’re pretty sure our waiter made us wait a little longer before he came back to take our food order.
Oh.
And none of the rest of us ordered the same thing as Marconi.
Just to be safe.
A: I laughed a lot about this. And picturing the things that might end up in Marconi’s food.
The Rude Woman
L: One of the clubs we hit on Music Row was a place called The Stage. We had gone in pretty late in the night and already bar hopped a few places prior so we already had a pretty good buzz on already. The place itself was pretty empty with a few stragglers besides ourselves.
The band playing was okay, they were playing all covers. When the singer asked if anone wanted to hear anything, Elle (always one to appreciate original material) called out “Play something you wrote, honey!”
The singer kinda mumbled something and they broke into yet another cover. And then another. The last song of their set.
“Thank you folks, Now I’m going to go and have a few words with the rude woman at the bar.”
[?]
Elle: “What? What do you mean rude?”
Singer(still on stage and speaking through the microphone): “You asked me to play something I KNOW.” (Obviously implying that she was insulting him by saying he couldn’t even play a cover tune).
E: “NOooo. I asked you to play something you WROTE. I wanted to hear some of your original music!”
S: “Oh. Now I’m going to go and apologize to the woman at the bar.”
Elle ended up buying him a drink and we all laughed at the misunderstanding.
A: Yeah, those guys were pretty cool. At this same bar, we noticed a copy of Bartending for Dummies right next to the register. I had to ask, so I politely inquired of the nice girl behind the bar how often that tome came out. She said she’d only used it once. I asked her what kinds of drinks other than beer and whiskey she usually served, and she said she once served a cosmo. Once.
Nashville really isn’t the pinnacle of liquor diversity one might assume it is. Fine with me, I drink whiskey. And they have plenty of that sweet, sweet nectar.
The band playing was okay, they were playing all covers. When the singer asked if anone wanted to hear anything, Elle (always one to appreciate original material) called out “Play something you wrote, honey!”
The singer kinda mumbled something and they broke into yet another cover. And then another. The last song of their set.
“Thank you folks, Now I’m going to go and have a few words with the rude woman at the bar.”
[?]
Elle: “What? What do you mean rude?”
Singer(still on stage and speaking through the microphone): “You asked me to play something I KNOW.” (Obviously implying that she was insulting him by saying he couldn’t even play a cover tune).
E: “NOooo. I asked you to play something you WROTE. I wanted to hear some of your original music!”
S: “Oh. Now I’m going to go and apologize to the woman at the bar.”
Elle ended up buying him a drink and we all laughed at the misunderstanding.
A: Yeah, those guys were pretty cool. At this same bar, we noticed a copy of Bartending for Dummies right next to the register. I had to ask, so I politely inquired of the nice girl behind the bar how often that tome came out. She said she’d only used it once. I asked her what kinds of drinks other than beer and whiskey she usually served, and she said she once served a cosmo. Once.
Nashville really isn’t the pinnacle of liquor diversity one might assume it is. Fine with me, I drink whiskey. And they have plenty of that sweet, sweet nectar.
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