p.o.s. car

Another funny story---
in October 1999, one of my good friends from high school, Danie, was having a Halloween party down in Mankato, where she went to college. Already, you should be thinking to yourself, "Yuck!" because Mankato is quite skanky. Nevertheless, I told her that I would be there with bells on. I invited our mutual friend Matt to come along, since he had nothing better to do (which implies I had nothing better to do!). The plan was that I'd pick him up at the MOA, where he was working at Old Navy--his career goal at the time, since he had been kicked out of the U--and I would drive us down to the land of milk and honey that is Mankato. SO...it's about 8p and I pick up the dude at MOA and we hit the road.

We're driving along, making small talk, etc. etc., and he becomes quieter throughout the trip, pretty much falling silent once we hit LeSeuer. I think nothing of it--I'm not one to make conversation for the sake of making conversation, plus it was late at night and he had been working all day, so I figured he was all tuckered out. A short time after that, we arrive in Mankato (my first time there!) and I pulled into the parking lot at the Happy Chef, take Matt's cell phone, and call Danie so she can come meet us and direct us to her apartment in the sticks. Matt went inside to use the little boy's room.

While I'm on the phone and doing my hair (I went as Mary from "There's Something About Mary"--I was spraying my bangs straight up), I said to Danie, "This town smells like shit!" I had the window open this whole time, since I was using enough hairspray to drown a small dog. We chat a little longer, and finally hang up and I roll up the window. Still no sign of Matt. I then started to think to myself, It sort of smells in here, too! I ran all the logical situations through my brain--maybe I stepped in dog poop, so I checked the bottoms of my shoes, the carpeting in the driver and passenger seat, the floors of the back seats--nothing. The smell of manure doesn't permeate to that extent, so now I'm worried. I then have a look over at the passenger seat, and what do I see? Why, there's a dark, wet-looking blob on my upholstery! With a quizzical look on my face, I lean over to investigate [read: smell] and immediately sit upright and start coughing. I couldn't believe it--Matthew had pooped his pants in my car!!!!!! There have been few times in my life where I have been completely speechless, and this was one of them. He finally came out the car a few minutes later...with his sweatshirt tied around his waist. Now, the dipshit (no pun intended), didn't pack an overnight bag, so he was wearing these stinky drawers all night long. I didn't know what to say to him, I was so gobsmacked.

We get to the party and I ran over to another mutual friend, Jenny, and I sort of half-laugh, half-cry at her, "I think Matt pooped in my car!!!" She gets this important look on her face and says, "I'll go find out!" A couple of minutes later, she comes back with the verdict: "Yep, he smells like shit!" Matt spent the first couple of hours at the party in the bathroom, emerging for a couple of minutes at a time when someone else needed to use the toilet, or when he needed a refill. But after a while, he was drunk and stopped caring about having stinky drawers and started caring about making awkward passes at the guys there (Matt was closet gay at the time). Throughout the night, Jenny and I tried to rationalize how this happened:

Erica: maybe it just leaked right out his a-hole!
Jenny: maybe he had some of those potato chips that go right through you!
Erica: why wouldn't he just say something like, "I've gotta puke," or, "I'm gonna be sick!" and make me pull over? He didn't have to say, "I've gotta shit!"
Jenny: why wouldn't he bring something to change in to?
Erica: isn't there a 24-hr Walmart or something like that in this urine soaked hell hole of a town?

Needless to say, our questions were never answered. We all fell asleep, with Matt sleeping i the corner, still in his poopy pants, wearing a silver glittery wig that he stole from someone, and everyone else crowded on the other side of the room.

The next morning, we wake up and head home. Unfortunately for us, it was Daylight Savings Time the night before, which meant that the sun had been baking this brown batter into my car seat for an extra hour. I didn't think to crack a window the night before, so when I opened up my door, I was hit by a wave of poo-poo fumes. Matthew, either being really dumb or really stupid (a little from column A, a little from column B), said nothing. We drove in silence to Subway and had subs for breakfast. I opted for the meatball sub, and the only reason I remember this is because Matt said to me, "That smells like shit." I was still in my mute stage from being totally apalled at him laying one down in my passenger seat that I didn't say anything back to him. Now that I am older and more mature [read: quicker with the insults], I would have had something to say back. We drive home in silence, because the silent shitter has fallen asleep in my passenger seat, bringing everything full circle: sleeping in his poopy pants in the poopy seat that he created.

After I dropped him off, I went to the gym, and on my way to leave, my car battery died. Maybe it just gave up due to the carbon monoxide poisoning that I'm sure was occuring in my car, but it was probably just a dead battery. So I had to have some guy give me a jump and drive Hershel (my Dodge Neon) home. I decided that making a dent on the poo-poo clean up was more important than dealing with the car battery, so I took every chemical I could find in my parents' garage and dumped it on the front seat and started scrubbing. I made pretty good progress--I'm sure the chemicals did something to the seat frame, but I was not going to be branded as having a stinky, shitty car!--when the 'rents came home from wherever they were, visiting grandma or something. My mom didn't say anything, but my dad was over talking to the neighbor and said, "What happened, did someone puke?" I looked up and said, "I wish. Matt took a crap in my car!" I don't think dad was expecting to hear that, because he fell silent.

Matt didn't call me to hang out after that day until about 2 years later. I certainly wasn't going to call him, because I was still in shock! In December of that year, I ran into a former classmate of ours who knows everyone involved in the story while I was at Rainbow buying stuff to make Christmas cookies, and he comes up to me and says, "So I heard about shitty britches." It took me about 30 seconds to register what he said, then I looked up at him and exclaimed, "Oh, you've heard about that, too???" Good stories are hard to keep down in the AV town, no doubt.

Book Review #2

Seeing as how the Barnes and Noble giftcard was the #1 gift given to yours truly for Christmas this year, I have a new stack of books to read and tell all of you (well, all 10 of you) about. The first such book is The Secret Fruit of Peter Paddington, by Brian Francis. Oh. My. God. This book was so funny. I got a side pain from laughing so hard. This book is basically what a fiction story from David Sedaris would sound like if he were writing from the perspective of a fat, gay Canadian kid. Seriously, as if it weren't hard enough being a gay teenager: he has to be fat and Canadian, too! This kid, Peter Paddington, talks about how he wants to make a boy friend (not boyfriend, but friend who is a boy), but he's very self-conscious because he's a bit on the fat side, and his nipples stick out like cherries and say evil things to him. So, what does he do? He tapes the puppies down: first with bandages, then masking tape (nearly buying out the entire supply at the drug store--for masking tape sculptures, as he tells the shop owner), and finally with an Ace bandage. His best friend, Daniela, a hard-talking Italian with split ends who lives across the street, the only person he talks to...well, besides the vision of the Virgin Mary that he sees in his closet door ("Ave Maria," he said when he first saw it, then crossed himself--but in the wrong order, since he's Methodist and doesn't know how to cross himself like Catholics do). His mother sounded like she'd be just like Stewart's mother on Mad-TV, with the high-pitched scream/whisper type talking. And his sisters are on grapefruit diets all the time. Peter tests himself to see if he's gotten fatter by doing the knuckle-test: he sticks his finger in his belly button, and depending on if his finger goes in further than before, then he knows if he's gotten any bigger. I can't even begin to do this book justice. I think some people would probably be put off by knowing this kid is a closet-gay who is just so awkward that he doesn't know what to do with himself, but look beyond that: this is a very funny book about an awkward kid in Canada. Comic gold!

Bob's your uncle!

Well, well, well...so, our latest edition of Ladies' Night took place on 1/19 at Benchwarmer Bob's in Burnsville. O3 was kind enough to send us a review of the place prior to the event, but we didn't heed it any warning...that was a mistake on our part! The night seemed promising enough--Deb and I got there before happy hour ended, so our first drinks were cheap; the nachos looked very appetizing when they arrived; the waitstaff seemed to be okay with our overall obnoxious attitudes. Then, things went downhill:

• Deb found a hair in the nachos (which we weren't charged for)
• the waitress turned out to be an idiot and tried to blame her inattentiveness on having to be in school at 8AM
• the waitress also forgot to bring us beers when we requested (read: demanded) them, so we had to reminder her at least twice each time we needed a refill!

Not good. We were all talking about how we were in need of a signature restaurant to hold Ladies' Night at...needless to say, it won't be Bob's! Next night of fun is at Chili's--can't wait!

I heart hockey!

This one is for Sarah aka O3 aka Ozone...

1. When the opposing team gets a penalty, the crowd says:
Hey buddy! You're outta here, you hack! You suck! You worthless piece of [bleep].
2. At the start of each period, the crowd sings to the opposing team's goalie, to the tune of Camptown Races...
first, they taunt him: [goalie's last name], [goalie's last name] , [goalie's last name] SUCKS! Then they sing:
[goalie's last name] is a great big sieve! Doo-dah, doo-dah! [goalie] is a great big sieve, let's the puck go by (you suck!!*)!! Let's the puck go by (you suck!!)!! Let's the puck go by (you suck!!)!! [goalie] is a great big sieve, let's the puck go by (you suck!!)!! All...night...long!
**If the Gophers are in the lead, instead of saying (you suck!!), they'll sing (2 times!!) or whatever number of goals he's let in.

Let me know if this helps you out, you fry loving weinie.

Book Review #1--memories...

At the request of some loyal readers...well, actually, it was Clark...I am going to include book reviews on my blog so you too might read what I read! Think of it as the yin to Deb's yang (food reviews). I have read hundreds of books over the years, whether it is for school or for my own entertainment, so I'll give you a quick list of some of my favorite books. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Running With Scissors, Dry, and Magical Thinking, by Augusten Burroughs: these books are extremely funny, but very sad...until you think of it in the perspective of the author---it's the only life he's ever known, so how is it wrong to him when that's how he was raised? Hmmm...food for thought. His fiction book is good too: Sellevision.
2. Me Talk Pretty One Day, Naked, Dress Your Family in corduroy and Denim, by David Sedaris: three words--he is funny. This is one of those books about stories from one person's life/family/job/etc. that will have you laughing out loud. Be prepared for some stares if you read this in a quite place, i.e. the library or a coffee-shop.
3. Any of the books by Bill Bryson: he's from Iowa, lived in England for 20+ years, then came back to the States, and now is back in the U.K. His humor is quietly witty--much like a stoic farmer from the Midwest, or a stoic farmer from Yorkshire. Some of his books are about trips he's taken, some are collections of essays, some are educational. All are excellent!
4. The Namesake, by J. Lahiri (I think)...excellent novel if you like books that address any sort of Indian themes (dot, not feather).
5. White Teeth, by Zadie Smith: set in London, this book is a long read (almost 700 pages!) about cross-cultural issues. Excellent read, but takes a while to get through.

Those are all that I can remember off of the top of my head. Be sure to check back in the future for further book reviews!

Office Slang

My comments are in red! Deb, Betsi: please see "Seagull Manager"
=====================================
From the website www.officeslang.com


New Office Slang
=====================================
404 - Someone who is clueless. From the Web error message, “404 Not Found,” which means the document requested couldn’t be located. “Don’t bother asking John. He’s 404.” Kind of like having ho's in different area codes.

Adminisphere - The rarified organizational layers above the rank and file that makes decisions that are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant. you lost me there, tex. uh, come again?

Alpha Geek - The most knowledgeable, technically proficient person in an office or work group. “I dunno, ask Rick. He’s our alpha geek.” This would be yours truly.

Assmosis - The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss rather than working hard. I thought this was going to refer to the process of someone's ass growing from sitting at a desk for many years...but that'd probably be "assmorph" instead of "assmosis."

Batmobiling - putting up emotional shields. Refers to the retracting armor that covers the Batmobile as in “she started talking marriage and he started batmobiling” easier than talking

Beepilepsy - The brief siezure people sometimes suffer when their beepers go off, especially in vibrator mode. Characterized by physical spasms, goofy facial expressions, and stopping speech in mid-sentence. How true! Debbers--you're so guilty of this.

Betamaxed - When a technology is overtaken in the market by inferior but better marketed competition as in “Microsoft betamaxed Apple right out of the market” sounds like something a breakdancer would do.

Blamestorming - A group discussion of why a deadline was missed or a project failed and who was responsible. Pass that buck.

Blowing Your Buffer - Losing one’s train of thought. Occurs when the person you are speaking with won’t let you get a word in edgewise or has just said something so astonishing that your train gets derailed. “Damn, I just blew my buffer!” (Synonym: “Head Crash”) Sounds a lot better than brainfart.

Body Nazis - Hard-core exercise and weight-lifting fanatics who look down on anyone who doesn’t work out obsessively. Not a problem in my office...we're more like Drink Nazis, looking down on those who don't partake in a cocktail or 6 from time to time.

Bookmark - To take note of a person for future reference. “After seeing his cool demo at Siggraph, I bookmarked him.” I'm not a fan of this one.

Brain Fart - A byproduct of a bloated mind producing information effortlessly; a burst of useful information. “I know you’re busy on the Microsoft story, but can you give us a brain fart on the Mitnik bust?” Variation of old hacker slang that had more negative connotations. I always thought a brainfart was when you totally forgot information. Guess you learn something new every day!

CGI Joe - A hard-core CGI script programmer with all the social skills and charisma of a plastic action figure. If only I knew what CGI meant.

Chainsaw Consultant - An outside expert brought in to reduce the employee head count, leaving the top brass with clean hands. I've got a meeting with "the Bobs."

Chip Jewelry - Old computers destined to be scrapped or turned into decoration. “I paid three grand for that Mac and now it’s nothing but chip jewelry.” I'm using chip jewelry right now to type this baby.

Chips and Salsa - Chips = hardware, salsa = software. “First we gotta figure out if the problem’s in your chips or your salsa.” MMMMM...chips and salsa.

CLM (Career Limiting Move)- Used by microserfs to describe an ill-advised activity. “Trashing your boss while he or she is within earshot is a serious CLM.” OMG.

Cobweb - A WWW site that never changes. Like www.ericaking.blogspot.com

Crapplet - A badly written or profoundly useless Java applet. “I just wasted 30 minutes downloading that crapplet!” Craptacular.

CROP DUSTING - Surreptitiously farting while passing thru a cube farm, then enjoying the sounds of dismay and disgust; leads to PRAIRIE DOGGING..... I finally know what to yell at my dad when he does this at home.

Cube Farm - An office filled with cubicles. Are they free-range cubes?

Dead Tree Edition - The paper version of a publication available in both paper and electronic forms. Bummer

Dilberted - To be exploited and oppressed by your boss, as is Dilbert, the comic strip character. “Damn, I’ve been dilberted again! The old man revised the specs for the fourth time this week.” Seriously, who reads that comic? LAME!

Dorito Syndrome - The feeling of emptiness and dissatisfaction triggered by addictive substances that lack nutritional content. “I just spent six hours surfing the Web, and now I’ve got a bad case of Dorito Syndrome.” not to be confused with "the munchies."

Egosurfing - Scanning the Net, databases, etc., for one’s own name. guilty as charged!

Elvis Year - The peak year of popularity as in “1993 was Barney the dinosaur’s Elvis year” Long live the King.

Flight Risk - Used to describe employees who are suspected of planning to leave a company or department soon. I prefer AWOL.

Generica - Fast food joints, strip malls, sub-divisions as in “we were so lost in generica that I couldn’t remember what city it was” Silly me, I thought this was a girl's name. Dope!

Glazing - Corporate-speak for sleeping with your eyes open; a popular pastime at conferences and early-morning meetings. “Didn’t he notice that by the second session half the room was glazing?” Again, guilty as charged.

Going Postal - Totally stressed out and losing it like postal employees who went on shooting rampages. "Going Postal" had its Elvis Year in, like, 1996, for sure.

GOOD job - A "Get-Out-Of-Debt" job. A well-paying job people take in order to pay off their debts, one that they will quit as soon as they are solvent again. Isn't that basically what a career is?

Gray Matter - Older, experienced business people hired by young entrepreneurial firms trying to appear more professional and established. ...or someone who watches "Grey's Anatomy."

Graybar Land - The place you go while you’re staring at a computer that’s processing something very slowly (while you watch the gray bar creep across the screen). “That CAD rendering put me in graybar land for like an hour.” I call that my 8a-5p daily schedule.

High Dome - Egghead, scientist, PhD Erica

Idea Hamsters - People whose idea generators are always running. not just for gay men anymore

Irritainment - Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying, but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The O.J. trials were a prime example. I feel that way about FOX's NFL coverage.

It’s a Feature - From the old adage, “It’s not a bug, it’s a feature.” Used sarcastically to describe an unpleasant problem you wish to gloss over. It's not my job, it's a feature. Does that work?

Keyboard Plaque - The disgusting buildup of dirt and crud found on some people’s computer keyboards. aka Toaster Shakings/Toaster Leavings (the debate continues)

Link Rot - The process by which web page’s links become obsolete as the sites they’re connected to change or die. how sad...tear!

Meatspace - The physical world (as opposed to the virtual) also “carbon community” “facetime” “F2F” “RL” sounds like something Comic Book Guy would say

Mouse Potato - The online generation’s answer to the couch potato. see my previous comment.

Ohnosecond - That minuscule fraction of time during which you realize you’ve just made a terrible error. I have nothing clever to say--is that kind of like an ohnosecond?

Open-Collar Workers - People who work at home or telecommute. I call these people lucky bastards.

Percussive Maintenance - The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again. just give it a tap-a-roo

Perot - To quit unexpectedly. “My cellular phone just perot’ed.” I prefer to say "Daunte'ed" these days, but it only really applies if sheer force causes something to stop working.

Plug-and-Play - A new hire who doesn’t require training. “That new guy is totally plug-and-play.” see "Idea Hampster" for my comment

Prairie Dogging - When something loud happens in a cube farm, causing heads to pop up over the walls trying to see what’s going on. no, Prairie Dogging was described in the movie "Rat Race" as when...well, you'll just have to watch the movie. TOTALLY different meaning.

Ribs ‘N’ Dick - A budget with no fat as in “we’ve got ribs ‘n’ dick and we’re supposed to find 20K for memory upgrades” sounds like something you'd find at Famous Dave's...if it were in Loring Park

Salmon Day - The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed in the end. “God, today was a total salmon day!” I call these days "weekdays"

Seagull Manager - A manager who flies in, makes a lot of noise, shits over everything and then leaves. sounds like Shimo!

Siliwood - The coming convergence of movies, interactive TV and computers; also “Hollywired” aka my parents' computer/tv/vcr setup in the family room

SITCOMs - What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids. “Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage” do yuppies still exist?

Square-Headed Spouse - Computer "To start, press any key. Where's the anykey?"--Homer Simpson, in the episode where he becomes clinically obese so he can work from home. Gotta love that muu-muu!

Squirt the Bird - To transmit a signal up to a satellite. “Crew and talent are ready...what time do we squirt the bird?” I thought of something totally different when I saw this

Starter Marriage - A short-lived first marriage that ends in divorce with no kids, no property and no regrets. ...or any marriage in Hollywood

Stress Puppy - A person who thrives on being stressed-out and whiny. I like "evil puppy" on Conan better.

Swiped Out - An ATM or credit card that has been used so much its magnetic strip is worn away. Ain't that about a bitch?

Tourists - Those who take training classes just to take a vacation from their jobs. “There were only three serious students in the class; the rest were just tourists.” That's a good idea

Treeware - Hacker slang for documentation or other printed material. pretty lame

Umfriend - One with whom one has a sexual relationship; as in, “this is Dale, my...um...friend.” well, it's better than "friends w/ benefits"--I hate that term

Under Mouse Arrest - Getting busted for violating an online service’s rule of conduct. “Sorry I couldn’t get back to you. AOL put me under mouse arrest.” you're naughty

Uninstalled - Euphemism for being fired. Also: decruitment. or "vacation"

Vulcan Nerve Pinch - The taxing hand position required to reach all the appropriate keys for certain commands. For instance, the warm re-boot for a Mac II computer involves simultaneously pressing the Control key, the Command key, the Return key and the Power On key. it's like "Twister" for your fingers

WOOFYS - Well Off Older Folks. is that, like, people in, like, their 40's? Oh my gosh!

World Wide Wait - The real meaning of WWW. whoa, zing!! that was a low blow...

Xerox Subsidy - Euphemism for swiping free photocopies from one’s workplace. how else are you supposed to use up all the paper in the supply room? photocopy work things? ewww

Yuppie Food Coupons - Twenty dollar bills from an ATM. or TYME machine--that one is for you, pumpy

Farm life

In my posting about the dirty dirty ATL, I mentioned my favorite story of all time. Well, loyal readers, I will now entertain you with a story you will soon not forget.
Picture it: Minneapolis, September 2001. It was a week or so after the Sept. 11th attacks, and my party posse and I were tired of being cooped up at our homes and decided to hit the town running. For those of you who don't know, my party posse consists of:

• Carrot Juice
• Sassy McDammit
• Pumpy (known back then as Ditty)
• Q (known back then as Queesh or Lynnequisha--she got her name after this story)
• Sony (known back then as So-So Def or Short Stuff)
• D-Cal
• and any other people who dared hang with us when we were at our prime

The night started off with Q picking up Sony, C.J, Sassy, and yours truly up at Argyle for what would turn out to be a memorable evening in downtown MPLS. We sunk into her Montero and drove off to the City Center parking ramp, Q's fave. After making our way out the front doors facing Hennepin, we walked north towards our final destinations: Brothers and Rosen's (I didn't say we were smart back then). Now, if you've never parked in City Center, when you exit out of those doors, you are walking out into a bus stop. So there were quite a few winners hanging out there. One decided we were a group of sassy ladies he wanted to hit up for spare change. "You got fitty cent for a brotha? You got fitty cent for a brotha?" Naturally, being the feisty bitches we are, we said no and kept walking. Well, he followed, and as we were crossing 6th St., he stopped in the middle of the intersection and yelled out, "WHAT'S A MOTHERFUCKER LIKE ME GOTS TO DO TO GET WIT A FARMER'S DAUGHTER LIKE YOU?" Seeing as how none of us grew up on a farm, we all thought that this was:

1. the stupidest thing we'd ever heard
2. the funniest thing we'd ever heard

Needless to say, when we met up with Ty-bone and Aut at Rosen's, they had no idea what we were yelling at each other every 5 seconds because we were too hysterical with laughter at that point to explain.
A few days later, I was out with C.J. and Pumpy at Riverdance, when my phone rings, and on the other end is Lil' John, a co-worker from E.B., asking for Lynnequisha. Needless to say, I knew immediately that it was him, and not some dude on the street looking for a farmer's daughter to get wit. And Lynnequisha/Queesh/Q was born!
So...now you know the greatest story ever! Booya!

Dirty south

Well, as I was searching through all of my fabulous pics, I realized I didn't write about visiting Q in the ATL! For shame! I must slap my wrist for that one...ouch!
So, my visit started with a little driving tour of downtown Atlanta. I was in Hotlanta at the end of Sept., and there were lots of displaced New Orleans residents throughout the city, due to Hurricane Katrina. Whilst taking in the sights, we saw the infamous crane from earlier in 2005, where some dude climbed to the top and camped out for a couple of days, after he had stabbed his girlfriend, or something like that:

Then we saw an even more somber site: an elderly pimp daddy! He was smooth with the ladies:

It reminded me of one of my favorite stories of all time...I will write about that later.
The weekend was spent hanging out with Q, her brother Brian, and his wife Leah. We had many laughs while dodging traffic in Mother Theresa's Mini-Cooper--who knew that baby cornered like it was on rails? We all saw our lives flash before our eyes when some redneck chick in a red pickup truck nearly squashed us on our way to some quaint little part of town on Saturday afternoon...I forget what part it was though. Brian was filled with road rage at this point, so he gave her the bird, only to get it back! I don't care what people say: Southerns are crazy!
By the time we made it to our destination, it was about 2:30p and we were starving. So we headed into this little restaurant, which Q said would be like Chammps or something similar, only to be told that they only serve brunch on Saturdays until dinner starts at 6p! Q and I were in no mood for eggs and pancakes and that crap, so we left the lovebirds and headed over to a tapas bar across the road and had a lovely spread of calamari, empañadas, chips and salsa, and such. We sat on a lovely little balcony...overlooking the garbage cans. But still, lovely.
That night consisted of taking a short nap once we returned home, then we all decided we were too tired to do anything but grab some dinner at Taco Mac--very similar to BW3, for my confused readers--and then go home and veg in front of the telly. The next AM, I had to pack up and head back to lovely MN...such a short trip!

Git-r-done

Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make: I know where all the hicks go now that Rodeo is no longer around. They are going to Prime Time in Burnsville.
It all began on Thursday night, January 5, for a ladies night out with Betsi, Lisa, Nicole, Kelly, Charity, and myself---Debbie D. didn't show. We met at Champps in Burnsville because of the central location and dinner menu. All was going smoothly--the bouncer came over at one point and asked which of us was shipping off to Iraq the next AM (apparently some gal was doing so but it wasn't any of us!). We had some cocktails and good conversation...up until the point when the live music started. I think I went back in time to 1997 or so--the band consisted of a man on keyboards who had on a flannel shirt; a stoner guy playing the bongos (yes, bongos), with a sort-of blonde afro and thick, chunky hemp necklace; and lastly, an acid-rock looking guy on guitar. THEY SUCKED! It was so loud and the music was just plain awful. We complained to the waitress, who said she'd ask the manager if they could turn it down, but also said that they were "known for the live music on Thursdays," so the outlook was not so good. Maybe the reason they were known for the live music is because it is so bad--I swear, there were only about 15 people in the entire place, and that number went down to 9 when we left about 20 minutes into their "set." So, not looking to give up quite yet and call it a night, we decided to head over to Prime Time, which was just across the parking lot from Champps--if you know Burnsville, it is in the old "Burlington Coat Factory" location. In the strip mall. Yep.
Now, both Betsi and Lisa mentioned multiple times that night how much their husbands (both big time drinkers) hated that place--in fact, we had first thought of going there for ladies night, but the two hubbies put the kibosh on that. So, not one to listen to advice, we decided to test it out for ourselves. Well, upon entering, the first thing we noticed was the high amount of underage drinkers in the house--they were easily visible due to the amount of shiny fabrics and accessories they were sporting in the bar in the strip mall. Honestly! Who gets dressed up for strip mall bars?
So, after we found a little table to sit at, we turned our attention to the dance floor. There was a live band playing, which was actually decent, but they had some interesting members--one of the guitarists must have been at least 30 years older than the other group members. My theory was that he is someone's dad in the band and really wanted to relive his youth so he asked/demanded to be in the band. The crowd was "smitten" with this band, to say the least--there was a woman in a crushed red velvet suit, at the front of the dance floor, dancing right in front of the lead singer and singing along, dancing by herself, being "that woman." Then there was this middle-aged couple: mama had on a red camisole tucked into her jeans; papa had on a red shirt, acid-wash jeans, and white tennis shoes. They were a toe-tapping monster on the floor. Another set of middle-aged friends--one gal in a pink sweater, the other in a multi-color striped sweater--were sort of dancing back and forth on one another, much like Joan Cusack and that blonde girl in "Sixteen Candles." Those were the highlights of the Solid Gold dancers. At one point I saw someone there who used to be in my bowling league at City Limits, and I knew it was time to go. Lisa left first, but she was too busy ogling all the hot bods in there (you know, the mullets, Ski-Doo jackets, Dale Ernhardt t-shirts, beer guts) that she didn't notice the busboy in the area and knocked his tub out of his hands, sending empty glasses and full ashtrays flying. How embarassing! Needless to say, I don't think we'll be going to Prime Time in the future. It sounds like the next stop will be Benchwarmer Bob's in Burnsville on Jan. 18 or 19--I'll give you a full report after that happens!