Faithful goat.
1.4.2kX
***Note*** Reprint of past Venue Announcement.
(Prizes for correct "Spot the Reference" answers will not be given.)
Hello teenage America.
Anyone sick? Seems everyone around me at work is getting the flu and I ain't happy about that cuz them viruses can migrate. My normal anti-viral defense of boozin' it up is takin' a breather (went a bit too far last Sunday when Da Bears won the NFC Championship game). So what's a guy to do to keep the yeasty-beasties at bay? Drink coffee! That's right, my folk-medicine approach to stayin' healthy is drowning the bugs in hot coffee. Heat kills. Acid kills. So ya had too much and yr jittery? Ride a bike! So ya had too much and you get the runs? There go them baddies out the tailpipe! I tell ya, I've been drinking loads of coffee and so far, so good. If yr a puss like me and don't like shots (unless the nurse is a hottie), fuel up and top off with Juan Valdez's favorite treat: COFFEE
Tonight - The Homestead.
Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Throwback
1.3.2kX
So... since it's been raining for what seems like weeks on-end, TNSC management has decided to embrace this inclement weather with a trip to The Orbit Room. One can't beat 15-foot high floor to ceiling windows with a view of a damp and bustling Market Street passing one by. One can't not admire the Vespas and the Vespa lads and lasses. One can't not hope for a weather-related wreck to unfold in the strange intersection splayed out before them. One can't not want to nick the ancient airline bags adorning the west wall. One can't not hope to see Vile Richard and wag a finger at him. One can't bum a ride there off Susanna or Jimi or Colleen - or as some of you know her - "ColTrans."
One can't not try every cocktail on the menu, and eventually settle on the "Poker Face."
One can't not fuck with the bartender's art.
Tonight - The Orbit Room.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
So... since it's been raining for what seems like weeks on-end, TNSC management has decided to embrace this inclement weather with a trip to The Orbit Room. One can't beat 15-foot high floor to ceiling windows with a view of a damp and bustling Market Street passing one by. One can't not admire the Vespas and the Vespa lads and lasses. One can't not hope for a weather-related wreck to unfold in the strange intersection splayed out before them. One can't not want to nick the ancient airline bags adorning the west wall. One can't not hope to see Vile Richard and wag a finger at him. One can't bum a ride there off Susanna or Jimi or Colleen - or as some of you know her - "ColTrans."
One can't not try every cocktail on the menu, and eventually settle on the "Poker Face."
One can't not fuck with the bartender's art.
Tonight - The Orbit Room.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Blow wheels!
1.2.2kX
Meeeee oh my. Some of you might have a car or truck that sports a little keypad on the outside of the driver's-side door. Key or pad in the code and the door clicks open. I think that's a mighty cool thing. My mother-in-law's Ford Exploder has one, and when we borrowed it to drive to Seattle last summer, I made her dig up the code for the thing, JIC I locked the keys in the thing. I didn't, but I always used the keypad to open the door, even though the key fob-clicker would do it for me. I'm just that kinda guy.
So I pull into the Albertson's car park the other day and some yutz is pullin' in who's driving a Ford Exploder that sports the same little keypad pulls in near me. We're walking through the lot together so I ask him if he minded me askin' him a question. It's fun to do this to people, esp. in LA, because everyone here's SOOOOO important and hates to be bothered. I love bothering. He says, "sure," so I say, "yr little door keypad, you use it?" "Sometimes," he says. "You leave a car key hidden in yr car to be on the safe side? You lose yr keys or some such, you know you can key or pad in and retrieve yr hidden key. I had one of them keypads, I'd sure leave a key hidden in the Jeep."
He said, "no." I repeated that I sure would. He said, "somebody could break in and drive away." I thought about that for a second. "Hmmm," I said, and left it at that. I didn't see the need to remind him that the key would be hidden and known only to him. They broke in, they'd drive the fucker away the old-fashioned way: Hotwire. I doubt they'd break in, say to themselves, "dudes drivin' theses rigs with keypads usually leave a carkey hidden within: Let's find it and joyride!" No.
Tonight - Argus Lounge.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Meeeee oh my. Some of you might have a car or truck that sports a little keypad on the outside of the driver's-side door. Key or pad in the code and the door clicks open. I think that's a mighty cool thing. My mother-in-law's Ford Exploder has one, and when we borrowed it to drive to Seattle last summer, I made her dig up the code for the thing, JIC I locked the keys in the thing. I didn't, but I always used the keypad to open the door, even though the key fob-clicker would do it for me. I'm just that kinda guy.
So I pull into the Albertson's car park the other day and some yutz is pullin' in who's driving a Ford Exploder that sports the same little keypad pulls in near me. We're walking through the lot together so I ask him if he minded me askin' him a question. It's fun to do this to people, esp. in LA, because everyone here's SOOOOO important and hates to be bothered. I love bothering. He says, "sure," so I say, "yr little door keypad, you use it?" "Sometimes," he says. "You leave a car key hidden in yr car to be on the safe side? You lose yr keys or some such, you know you can key or pad in and retrieve yr hidden key. I had one of them keypads, I'd sure leave a key hidden in the Jeep."
He said, "no." I repeated that I sure would. He said, "somebody could break in and drive away." I thought about that for a second. "Hmmm," I said, and left it at that. I didn't see the need to remind him that the key would be hidden and known only to him. They broke in, they'd drive the fucker away the old-fashioned way: Hotwire. I doubt they'd break in, say to themselves, "dudes drivin' theses rigs with keypads usually leave a carkey hidden within: Let's find it and joyride!" No.
Tonight - Argus Lounge.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 07, 2010
The air was alive.
1.1.2kX
Heard it all before, a thousand times: "The overhead bin space is for larger carry-on luggage, smaller items should be placed in the space beneath the seat in front of you." And, "In the event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device." And, "The captain has not turned off the fasten seatbelts sign, so please return to your seats." But not, "Our in-flight beverage service will consist of complimentary coffee, juice or soft drinks, beer, wine and margaritas are available for five dollars." Margaritas? I love margs, sure, I just wasn't expecting a major airline to take a stand and offer margaritas over the dozens of other cocktail choices available. Why not bloodys? Why not gimlets? Why not sake-bombs? Why not Jaeger shots? No, the lovely Miss Margarita won the contract.
And I didn't expect the flight attendants to offer cocktails at the god-awful early dust-off time of 5:50 am, but they did. I was half zombiefied and didn't trust that I heard them correctly, but my connecting flight in Houston some time later said the same thing. bla bla bla for free and beer, wine and MARGARITAS for five bucks. I had to investigate.
I shoulda guessed that it was a pre-mixed job and I winced a little, knowing that most mixes are sweet as Texas tea, but I found this to be a nice sweet-salty mix. And I was happy that I could get two nice drinks out of the wee bottle if I had an airline cup full of ice. My sister joined me in this experiment and she enjoyed the marg too, so when our flight attendant came by asking if we wanted another, we said hell yeah. Then the gal seated in front of us asked how they were and we said, "surprisingly, they aren't bad." She asked for a marg too.
So now the FA had three margs to retrieve. She got the gals one each and said, "I'll have to go to the forward galley to get yours," to me. She came back and hardly slowed down when she handed me mine. My little wife, seated next to me, said, "I think that one's been opened." Sure enough, the seal was broken and the little bottle wasn't full. "Good eye," I said, then flagged down the FA. "I hate to be a pest," I said, "but this marg's been opened." She took the bottle and said, "I think she opened it." I didn't know who "she" was and why she would have opened it. "I'll get you another, " she then said. "Take yr time," I said, " I'm finishing this one." She said she'd be right back and she was. "This one's unopened, but sticky," she said, "something spilled on it. Another margarita, I think. I'll get you a wet-nap." I said don't bother. "I have a napkin." She left and came back with a wet-nap AND a tiny bottle of Grand Mariner! "Float some of this on top, hon," she said. "Why you have just Cadillaced our margaritas!" I said. "Thanks!"
I then shared with both my sister and the gal in front of me. Twas the Season of Giving, after all.
Tonight - Bloodhound.
They got hooks under the bar for yr coats. You'll need'm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Heard it all before, a thousand times: "The overhead bin space is for larger carry-on luggage, smaller items should be placed in the space beneath the seat in front of you." And, "In the event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device." And, "The captain has not turned off the fasten seatbelts sign, so please return to your seats." But not, "Our in-flight beverage service will consist of complimentary coffee, juice or soft drinks, beer, wine and margaritas are available for five dollars." Margaritas? I love margs, sure, I just wasn't expecting a major airline to take a stand and offer margaritas over the dozens of other cocktail choices available. Why not bloodys? Why not gimlets? Why not sake-bombs? Why not Jaeger shots? No, the lovely Miss Margarita won the contract.
And I didn't expect the flight attendants to offer cocktails at the god-awful early dust-off time of 5:50 am, but they did. I was half zombiefied and didn't trust that I heard them correctly, but my connecting flight in Houston some time later said the same thing. bla bla bla for free and beer, wine and MARGARITAS for five bucks. I had to investigate.
I shoulda guessed that it was a pre-mixed job and I winced a little, knowing that most mixes are sweet as Texas tea, but I found this to be a nice sweet-salty mix. And I was happy that I could get two nice drinks out of the wee bottle if I had an airline cup full of ice. My sister joined me in this experiment and she enjoyed the marg too, so when our flight attendant came by asking if we wanted another, we said hell yeah. Then the gal seated in front of us asked how they were and we said, "surprisingly, they aren't bad." She asked for a marg too.
So now the FA had three margs to retrieve. She got the gals one each and said, "I'll have to go to the forward galley to get yours," to me. She came back and hardly slowed down when she handed me mine. My little wife, seated next to me, said, "I think that one's been opened." Sure enough, the seal was broken and the little bottle wasn't full. "Good eye," I said, then flagged down the FA. "I hate to be a pest," I said, "but this marg's been opened." She took the bottle and said, "I think she opened it." I didn't know who "she" was and why she would have opened it. "I'll get you another, " she then said. "Take yr time," I said, " I'm finishing this one." She said she'd be right back and she was. "This one's unopened, but sticky," she said, "something spilled on it. Another margarita, I think. I'll get you a wet-nap." I said don't bother. "I have a napkin." She left and came back with a wet-nap AND a tiny bottle of Grand Mariner! "Float some of this on top, hon," she said. "Why you have just Cadillaced our margaritas!" I said. "Thanks!"
I then shared with both my sister and the gal in front of me. Twas the Season of Giving, after all.
Tonight - Bloodhound.
They got hooks under the bar for yr coats. You'll need'm.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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