chelsadilla and I were out and about today. We were specifically going to go grocery shopping and to look at some mattresses for me for when I move and get a new bed. Since a lot of the places we were going to go were on the West Side, we stopped and had lunch at the Atlanta Bread on University.

After we ate, we walked down the sidewalk to Penzey's Spices. We had been there when we visited the Spurgh, and I was really excited to discover that we have one in Madison. So we walked around for a bit and everything smelled really fucking awesome. I didn't buy anything on this visit, though.

Then we walked a little bit further down the sidewalk to Vom Fass. My friend gave me delicious chili oil from there for my birthday last year, but I hadn't had the opportunity to check it out for myself. I'm sorry that it took me so long to go; this place is basically amazing.

The premise is two-fold. First, the place sells stuff that comes from casks: fancy infused olive oils, various vinegars, and myriad other cooking liquids. But other things come in casks, too, like liquor and wine. So they have vodka, gin, liqueurs, and a whole wall for whiskeys (although the whiskey situation is in customs limbo, apparently). Second, you can sample anything in the place, including the booze. If you find something you like, you can buy it in any quantity and you can put it in any container. You can buy reusable glassware of various shapes and sizes there, too. Basically, the place fucking rocks.

So, I had been planning on making pork tenderloin for dinner even before we went to Vom Fass. While I was there, I noticed that they had avocado oil. I looked at the little explanation and it noted that avocado oil is great for marinating meat and that, since it has a very high smoke point, it's awesome for searing meat, too. I was planning on both marinating and searing my pork, so this was a no-brainer. I picked up 100ml of the stuff for about $5, and I paid another $5 for a classy bottle to put it in.

I got it home and mixed the avocado oil with salt, pepper, garlic, and lemon juice. Then I stuck the pork in that bad boy and stuck it back in the fridge. I chopped up some celery, carrots, and onions--a classic mirepoix while I preheated the oven and my roasting pan. When it was all ready, I threw some more avocado oil in the pan and then seared the pork on all sides. It smelled amazing. Then I threw the vegetables in there, added a few bay leaves, and stuck the whole mess in the oven.

When it was almost done, I whipped up a salad--because apparently I eat salads now. Chelsadilla really wanted to do something with some feta cheese she had, so here's what I did: I chopped up two avocados, some whole tomatoes, and half a red onion, threw them in a bowl, crumbled the feta over it, dusted it with salt and pepper, and then dressed the whole thing with more avocado oil before tossing it with my bare hands. It looked fucking amazing.

When the pork was done, I pulled it off the rack to rest for a bit while I added some white wine and red-wine vinegar to the pan. I also threw some flour in to thicken it up. The resulting sauce was a little sweet with some really good background flavors. And it went really well with the pork. I put the pork, the salad, and some rosemary potatoes on some plates and the whole thing was ready.

And it was delicious. Fucking delicious.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 9:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

I've always loved musicals. It's true. I really do love them. My favorite is probablyChitty Chitty Bang Bang, but I really like but Mary Poppins and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory are awesome, too, obviously. I've also really enjoyed every single musical stage production I've seen immensely.

I think that life would be awesome if it was more like a musical. Think about it. Instead of fighting, we'd dance and sing and have stylized, choreographed pseudo-conflicts. You'd have an orchestra and a chorus line to back you up when you're feeling down. And if there's a better way to express sheer joy than jazz hands, I'm not aware of it.

But the thing that really gets me about the musicals is the music. Some of it is just fucking gorgeous. The interplay between all the different parts and whatnot. I love it.

Why am I telling you about this? Because chelsadilla pointed me in the direction of an awesome scene from a musical that highlights another thing I love about musicals: the dancing. Specifically, this scene features Gene Kelly tap dancing on rollerskates. There's no CGI, no fancy wirework, just a talented motherfucker doing an really difficult-looking dance routine while, as RPM pointed out, wearing enough make-up to hide the bruises on this face.

Check it out:

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Reviews , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

In English, it is often difficult to decide how to indicate that a noun is plural. Sometimes you have to add an S to the word, sometimes you have to drop a Y and add an "-ies," sometimes you have to change the word completely, and sometimes you just have to leave it alone. And that's not even all the options.

So, yeah, the whole thing is pretty easy to mess up--if you're an idiot.

See, the one thing we always know is that we only ever have to apply one transformation to a singular noun to arrive at a plural noun. "Child" becomes "children," not "childrens." So imagine my indignant outrage when I saw this sign on a restroom door:

What the fuck kind of bullshit is that? "Men" is already plural; why did someone add an S to the word? Was it perhaps an entirely abortive attempt to indicate that this was the "men's room"? But then where's the apostrophe?

This is another situation where a large group of people looked at this sign and thought "Yes, this is correct. This is what I want the door on this convenience-store door to say for ever and ever and ever. This is how I want to be remembered."

Grammar isn't the most important thing in the world, but it's also not the most difficult to master. And this instance doesn't even involve dangling modifiers or fucked-up participles. This is one word that's either spelled incorrectly or missing an apostrophe. Tens of people could have fixed the problem in one of two ways. And yet no one did.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Grammar for Idiots , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

May 21, 1999 is, as nearly as I can remember, the ten-year anniversary of my graduation from high school.

High school is a rough time for everyone, I think. I always feel bad for people that say that high school was the best time of their lives. If you have the best time of your life between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, something's seriously wrong.

High school was not the best time of my life. I was angry and depressed, as all teenagers are. Many of my teachers, not to mention the administration at my high school, made me feel inferior and invaluable. The people I spent most of my time with were, well, terrible.

I was not a good person. I was self-centered, extremely obnoxious, and loud. I was a stupid teenager, but perhaps to a greater degree than some of my classmates. Still, I wasn't evil. I wasn't malicious. And I always wanted to be a genuinely good person. But everywhere I looked I saw seemingly undeserving people get great things. People who would behave perfectly only so long as there was an adult within earshot would be praised for their poise and maturity. People who were completely without intellectual curiosity and who cared about learning only so that they could score well on a test were rewarded with academic-achievement prizes. Bad people were held out as role models. Even then, I was not about projecting one thing but being another. I did not fit in.

In the years after high school, I struggled to resolve the fact that I thought I had numerous good qualities with the impression that had been hammered into me by my classmates and authority figures. Somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I always returned to the thought that, even if I thought I was worthwhile, the fact that so many others thought I wasn't must mean something. Then, one day, I realized that this was bullshit. Maybe it was while I was on Myspace looking around at profiles of different people I went to high school, but at some point I realized that the system that had selected against me was broken. It was wrong. The criteria it cared about were wrong. The things that this system decided I was lacking--wealth, status, athleticism, whatever--are largely unimportant.

I looked at the lives these people lead and I realized something. Some of them have made terrible decisions and have made complete messes of their lives. I won't deny taking perverse pleasure in seeing people who'd been handed things they never deserve suddenly have to face reality. But for the most part, it's not about seeing where these people are and feeling that I'm better than them. Rather, it's that I'm happier where I am now than I would ever be where any of them are. I am constantly surrounded by amazing friends. I have a beautiful girlfriend that loves me. I own a successful small business. I love every second I spend doing my job. I find my work deeply gratifying. I have always made the very best of what I've had. I can look at my life and I can be proud of it.

Ten years after my graduation from high school, I can look around me and I can say that this, right now, is the best time of my life. And that's a really good feeling.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)| Filed under Existential Nonsense

Chelsadilla and I went on a walk in Maple Bluff today. I discovered my new favorite house in Madison. It was fucking gorgeous. But we had to cut our walk short because about halfway through, we both developed an inescapable need to urinate. There were no public restrooms in sight, so I speed walked over to the Tenney Locks, hoping that their restrooms were still open. No dice. We managed to get to the seXterra and drive to a nearby convenience store before having what were undoubtedly the best excrementory moments ever.

Then we came back to my place and, after eating some creme brulee, did the only logical thing: I started doing laundry and cleaning out my closet. With chelsadilla helping me sort out what to keep and what to throw away, I made it through the three feet or so of clothes, blankets, pillows, and miscellany in my walk-in closet. Here are some things I found:

1. A guitar. I had actually forgotten that this was down there. It's really cheap, but it works, and chelsadilla is sort of obsessed with it now.
2. Various shirts I was sure were lost forever. These include my Superman t-shirt with the Superman Returns logo, my "Death to The Pixies" shirt, and two of my Zero shirts, one of which is still in wearable condition. I also found a really old Smashing Pumpkins shirt from when I was in high school. I swear, that thing must be twelve years old. It is not wearable, but it's fucking cool. I think I'm going to frame it.
3. The trench coat that contributed to my expulsion from high school. Yeah, my two best friends in high school and I each had black leather trench coats that we wore to school in the years after Columbine. People got pissed.
4. A really awesome flask with my last name engraved on it. My friend Paul gave this to me as a gift for being in his wedding party. I thought I'd lost it, but now I found it. And it still had vodka from the last time I filled it four years ago. Yay.
5. Lots of shit to take to Goodwill. I always heard about people donating stuff to Goodwill and I thought "Jesus, who has all that extra clothes?" It turns out, I do. Now I've got two giant bags of shit to give away.

Cleaning felt good. It's time to move on to different areas of the apartment. So that I can move out soon.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Superman , The Smashing Pumpkins , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

Mr. Vice, pH, chelsadilla and I headed down to Chicago this weekend to celebrate EiC's birthday and just generally hang out. It was a fun weekend. I'm completely fucking exhausted, but it was worth it.

Mr. Vice and pH headed down on Friday, and chelsadilla and I joined them on Saturday. Chelsadilla and I were staying at the same hotel everyone had stayed at during our last Chicago extravaganza, so it was convenient to get around.

Our first stop: IKEA. God, I love that place. The Chicago IKEA is, according to one of the employees we talked to, the largest in North America and the second-largest in the world. And it's awesome. Although I only actually bought a few jars and kitchen things, I bought a fuckload more in my head. And thought it would be pointless to buy nice stuff as long as I'm living in my current apartment--it could all get shot at any moment--I'm definitely upgrading once I move. My first purchase will be a king-size bed of the MALM variety. I can't wait. I'm gonna get the matching attached nightstands, too.

Eventually, we tired of the IKEA and headed down to the only place we could possibly meet EiC for her birthday in Chicago: Salud. I had promised chelsadilla that I wouldn't get "pukey drunk," and I kept that promise. But that doesn't mean that I didn't have an amazing time. Also, the staff at Salud must have somehow captured a full herd of unicorns because unicorn tears as a secret ingredient is the only possible way to explain how the mango mojitos were so unbelievably good.

After getting good and buzzed, we left Salud and headed to a quieter divey diner-type place. We ordered two batches of tater tots and were crushed when the waiter came back and told us that the kitchen had just closed so no tots for us. We were devastated, but we ordered High Lifes, anyway. We started talking about lots of things--pH was talking about baseball while EiC and I discussed the pitiful state of American grammar--when two plates of tater tots magically appeared. We all squeeled with glee--apparently the kitchen had taken pityon us or something.

All good things must end, though, and Saturday night (actually, Sunday morning) ended with pH, Mr. Vice, chelsadilla, and I on the Blue Line heading towards O'Hare, where our hotel was. Conversation was good, and plans were made. And, to my complete surprise, those plans went off without a hitch the next morning: we got our shit together and, after picking up Bluebunny and Nnnnnn, headed to the Museum of Science and Industry.

It was overall slightly disappointing, but there were some really, really awesome exhibits. I especially loved the Harry Potter thing, the giant miniature-train setup, and, surprisingly, the amazing doll house. I didn't care for the internet room or the "ToyMaker 3000" area which, contrary to the impression created by the name, is not at all fun.

We topped the whole thing off with a meal at Boston Market, which is no longer available in Madison, and headed back. Now I'm looking through the IKEA webpage for more things to buy for my new apartment. God, I can't wait to move!

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 10:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Fun Shit I've Done , Hanging Out With My Friends , Harry Potter , Reviews , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To , Wisconsin Law Review

Strangely enough, this story involves something that happened at my office, not at my apartment.

Mr. Vice and I have an office in an old three-story building. The ground floor has three offices--ours, our landlord's, and a CPA. The second and third floors are residential apartments. The building has a parking lot in the back, and we rent one of the spaces. The others belong to the landlord, the CPA, and some of the tenants in the apartments.

Mr. Vice and I arrived this morning to find a giant white van parked in our space. But here's the thing: it wasn't just parked in our space. No, it was parked horizontally across three spaces. This asshole took up three spaces with one car. And he did it directly in front of a sign that said "Private Property. Tenant Parking Only." Fucking unbelievable.

I was immediately on the warpath. I wanted Mr. Vice to park parallel to the van across those three spaces. The other cars in the parking lot and a building wall would have prevented the van from leaving. My plan was to leave a note saying that if this person wanted to leave, they should come see me. At least that way I'd get to confront this asshole.

But Mr. Vice did the sensible thing and parked in a spot that's usually empty. Damn him and his rationality.

Anyway, after some discussions, my landlord decided to call the police. I eventually got to work. A little later, I went and checked with our landlord to see what had happened. The window in his office opens out onto the parking lot, and I saw that the van was still there. Our landlord told me that the police had come and given the van a $5 ticket. The fine seemed somehow unsatisfactory given that I had already decided that several years hard labor would be the appropriate punishment. The fact that the van had Pennsylvania license plates, rendering the fine completely unenforceable, only made me angrier.

And then something glorious happened.

Just as we were sitting there talking about what an unbelievably inconsiderate thing this van had done, we saw that someone was opening the van as if to get something out of the back. I sprang into action.

I headed out and noticed that one of the residential tenants was on the scene now. One of the three spots the van had taken was hers. I confronted the guy who was getting stuff out of the van.

"Hi," I said.

"Hello," he responded.

"You know you're parked in my spot, right?"

"We're performers. We're performing next door," he said, as if that somehow made the whole thing ok.

"Yeah. You're actually taking up three different spaces. Spaces that clearly aren't yours."

The guy got pissed. He didn't apologize or acknowledge that he his unbelievably rude parking decision had now inconvenienced an entire office building. No, instead, he got pissed at me. Yeah, the guy that illegally parked his giant fucking van across three clearly marked private parking spots got pissed at me, the guy who, in a relatively polite manner, given the circumstances, had asked him to move his van.

"Move your van out of the private parking it's in."

The guy locked up the door and started walking away. He ignored me when I repeated my command that he move. I screamed at him to turn around and move his car. He said that he couldn't drive the van because he wasn't authorized on the insurance and scurried out of sight. Surprisingly enough, I didn't threaten him or curse.

The woman who lived in the building asked what I would do next. I said I had to go back into my office but told her that she should come get me if the guy came back. She said that she would because she wanted to see me scream at him some more.

A few minutes later, she came into our office and said the guy was back and that he was being an asshole and cursing at her for making him move the van. I ran outside and saw that he was in the van and trying to maneuver it out of the position it was in despite being surrounded by cars on three sides and a building on the fourth. The neighbor woman moved her car and let the van get out and I, in a display of remarkable restraint, just let him drive off down the alley. I didn't chase him down, even though I wanted to rip his head off his body and then pee in the socket.

Seriously, people: who comes into a small parking lot that is clearly marked private and positions his car so as to take up the maximum possible number of spaces? And then, when confronted by the rightful owners of those spots, what kind of person reacts incredulously, as if he is the hapless victim?

Some people are completely without worth. Fortunately, those people are easy to spot.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 12:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Rants , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry

I have railed against Madison's smoking ban since the beginning, and I am saddened to see that it will most likely go statewide. I'm not a smoker, and I never have been. Nor do I plan on ever becoming one. And I do agree that it's "nice" to go out and not come home smelling like smoke. But here's the thing: none of that undoes the fact that the smoking ban needlessly infringes on the rights of business owners to run their businesses as they see fit. As a small-business owner myself, I cringe at the thought of the government regulating my business down to the point of telling me what otherwise legal things my clients can and cannot do while they are in my office. As a citizen, I'm wary of the precedent this sets.

Several of my fellow bloggers have gone on record in support of the smoking ban. Chris Walker, a contributor at Dane101, calls the ban "justifiable," saying that

[I]f . . . patrons are seeking to have a pleasant experience, who are we to say that tavern owners have a "right" to essentially poison them? Sure, one can argue that the patrons don't necessarily have to enter such an environment; if they wanted to, they could go to a bar whose owner decided, on their own, to make it smoke-free. But what if a restaurant, instead of allowing smoking, placed a few drops of arsenic in customers' drinks? Do they have a "right" to do that?

There are two flaws with Mr. Walker's statement here. First, it's not that bar owners have a right to poison their customers, it's that they have a right to determine how their establishments run. A business like a bar or restaurant is privately owned. In my opinion, if you own something, that means you get to decide what to do with it. If you own a business, you get to decide what goes and what doesn't. Removing that right is the same thing as removing the right to self-determination as far as the bar or restaurant is concerned. And that's not ok.

Second, Mr. Walker's attempt to analogize allowing smoking to putting poison in the food isn't very persuasive, in part because it's not a very close analogy. People know that smoking is bad for you, and it's pretty clear when you're in an environment that allows smoking. Going into a bar or a restaurant with a smoking section constitutes notice that you're in a situation where smoking happens. If you choose to stay, then, you've made that choice with full knowledge of the consequences. That's entirely different from a restaurant owner putting arsenic in your food without your knowledge. In the former situation, you know the danger and choose to stay; in the latter, you had no idea that you were in danger to begin with.

A closer analogy would be a situation where the waitress tells you that all entrees come with arsenic, a deadly poison that results in death in most cases and then tells you that if you eat any of the food, you will most certainly die. If a rational, competent person, under those circumstances, actually ate the food and died, then it wouldn't be right to say that it was the proprietor's fault, I don't think. You're free to make choices, even if you choose stupidly.

Emily Mills also supports the ban:

I firmly believe in the freedom and liberty of people--which stops once it begins to infringe upon the freedom and liberty of others, like my right not to inhale your smoke when I'm trying to enjoy some live music or have a meal.

But with all due respect to Ms. Mills, she doesn't have a right to listen to music or eat a meal without inhaling someone else's smoke. When you step into public, you run the risk of encountering things you don't like or find disgusting. That's just part of living in a free society. If I'm walking down the street, I understand that people might show me pictures of aborted fetuses, shout insults at me, or subject me to the smell of their dog's feces. It might be inconsiderate of people to subject me to these things, but that doesn't mean that I have the absolute moral right to be free from them. Similarly, no one has the absolute moral right to be free from smoke when they're in public or in a private establishment. If people did have that right, then smoking should be banned altogether.

On the other hand, bar owners do have moral rights here: they have the right to set the rules for their establishments. The smoking ban strips them of that right and puts them at the mercy of public preference. This is, frankly, unacceptable and un-American. I'm honestly sad to live in a state where this is going on.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Legal Rants , Philosophical Rants , Political Rants , Rants About Things That Make Me Irrationally Angry , Rants on the News

A friend once remarked that, judging by the blog, my relationship with chelsadilla consists almost entirely of me cooking ridiculous meals for her and us eating them. I told him that wasn't exactly true. Today, I realized that I hadn't blogged about any cooking exploits for a while, so I figured I'd revive that trend.

Given that I have absolutely no court scheduled today for the first time in recent memory, I decided to cook up a little bit of an amazing breakfast. While chelsadilla was still asleep, I started frying some D&G bacon (from the farmers' market), slicing potatoes and tomatoes (also from the farmers' market), and boiling some water (not from the farmers' market--that fancy organic water is expensive).

My idea was to do a slightly different eggs Benedict. I whipped up some hollandaise (I'm pretty sure I'm spelling that correctly, but my spellchecker doesn't seem to recognize it), cooked up the bacon, and threw the potatoes (along with some olive oil and rosemary-infused sea salt) into a frying pan. When the bacon was done, I drained off most of the grease, sprinkled some of the sea salt onto thick slices of tomato, and put them, salt side down, in the grease. I started poaching some eggs and toasting the muffins, too.

Then I built up the dish: muffin, bacon, tomato, egg, and gobs of hollandaise. The potatoes were a side dish, but I added some hollandaise to them, too. That shit is tasty.

Then I fucking set the table and put a can of Coke Zero near one of the place settings. Then I woke up chelsadilla, and she seemed pleased with my work. Now she's doing the dishes.

I like how that works.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 8:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

Dee pointed me to Overrated List, a blog consisting of readers' lists of the top four most overrated things in life. Dee also asked me to write my own. So here goes, in no particular order.

1. Summer. Yeah, I have to admit that I was pretty excited when the average temperature started being above freezing this year. Yeah, I like not having to put on four layers just to take my garbage out. Yeah, I like being able to go for walks and stuff. And I love the farmers' market. And the Terrace. I love all of those things. But, fuck, I hate mosquitoes. A lot. Later in the summer, I'm literally going to be afraid to go outside. The Arboretum is beautiful, but all I could think about when I was there a few days ago was the fact that there were literally billions of mosquitoes gestating all around me. And the humidity! I'll take sub-zero temperatures over 90 percent humidity any day. So yeah, summer's awesome. But it also sort of sucks.


2. The piano. The piano can add some really interesting texture and range to a piece of music but, on its own or as a featured instrument, it's just sort of boring. The amount of articulations is greatly limited: you can't slide, bend, or hammer-on notes. Forget about vibrato or tremolo. To me, everything involving a piano just starts to sound the same after a while. It's a crucial, important instrument, but it's just not as awesome as some people seem to think.


3. Sonic. I've now sampled a large portion of their menu, and I just don't get it. Sonic just isn't that good. Yeah, it's kitschy and throwbacky. The burger's ok. And the serve corn dogs. And chili-cheese dogs. But the fries suck, the tater tots are exactly the same ones you can buy at the store, and I haven't really liked any of the drinks. It's decent for fast food. I prefer it to McDonald's or Hardee's, for example. But it's just not worth waiting in line for. Not that anyone's doing that anymore.


4. Diversity. It's not that I think that we should actively exclude anyone, it's just that I don't understand what diversity is supposed to be. And if it's supposed to be something other than having the "correct" ratio of minority to non-minority people around, then why do people get fixated on race? I agree that diversity of background, race, religion, socioeconomic status, and sexual orientation is the result of a just society, but I don't think that you create a just society by valuing that desired outcome over a fair system. No one should get fucked over for something they can't control, but a fair system is one where people who work hard get what they deserve.

What about you guys?

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Music Reviews , Philosophical Rants , Political Rants , Restaurant and Bar Reviews

So, Dane101 is apparently four years old. To celebrate, they threw a party at my favorite Madison venue, the High Noon Saloon. So RPM and I, along with some others, went down there. It was a good time, and I got to talk to Jesse, who I have a bit of a heterosexual man-crush on (his favorite band is The Pixies! I love The Pixies!). The music, though, was a little, um, let's say "eclectic."

The first band up was Little Red Wolf. This was apparently their first show, but I wouldn't have known that had I not been told. They sounded really good. Some of their songs were really ambitious, especially in the vocal department, and they pulled it off beautifully. One of them played the xylophone, the guitar, the bass, and what I believe was a viola (not all at the same time, though, but it was still awesome).

Next up was a band I was significantly less into, The New Kites. Most of this band's music was derivative and poorly executed. They ripped off everyone from Louis Armstrong to the Big Bopper to Jethro Tull to Rancid. And to the extent that they were original, they were unlistenable. My group literally got up and went outside. It may have been just an unpolished live performance, but I was very turned off.

Then came the band I'd been looking forward to all night: Butt Funnel. I knew absolutely nothing about the band other than their name. Then I discovered that they're German--fake German. Things proceeded from there. They paraded out in ridiculous costumes and started playing completely wacky music that was somewhere between punk, metal, disco, and electronica. Sort of like Electric Six but less . . . good. Also like Electric Six, Butt Funnel's songs were about completely ridiculous things. They sang about how there should be fewer abortions, pudding, and, well, I don't know. But they did do a cover of Len's "Steal My Sunshine," which sorta blew me away because, honestly, who covers that song? It was awesome, though. Or terrible. By the time I left, I had a smile on my face, but I wasn't so much laughing with them as at them. Or maybe not, I don't know. Maybe that's the point.

But no matter what the point of Butt Funnel was--and I'm sure there isn't one--my point is that Dane101 kicks ass and I'm glad they're around.

Also, I will decapitate you and put your face right in a butt funnel . . . if you steal my sunshine.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Fun Shit I've Done , Music Reviews , Restaurant and Bar Reviews , Things I'm Irrationally Attached To

Yes, during our third day in the Spurgh, chelsadilla and I had some roadside meat. We went to lunch at this fucking amazing BBQ stand that was in a parking lot somewhere. It was all really, really good, although chelsadilla's pulled pork was way better than my brisket. The sides were great and the cornbread was out of this world.

But the funniest thing about the stop was something on a flyer. The BBQ place was apparently hosting the second annual chili cook-off. The rules were very clear that the meat in the chili had to be beef. It listed a whole lot of things competitors could not use. Raccoon, possum, deer, and roadkill were all on the list. Who the fuck is out there making Raccoon chili?

I'm guessing there were some shenanigans at the first annual cook-off.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Funny Shit , Restaurant and Bar Reviews

Frankly, after Friday and Saturday, I was pretty fucking tired. So I was happy to have a pretty relaxing Sunday morning. And it actually ended up being one of my favorite parts of the whole trip.

Chelsadilla had been telling me for a long time about how she had driven a Miata in college and how that Miata had ended up in the Spurgh with her brother. Well, sure enough, there it was: a red convertible Miata. Now, I had appropriately made fun of chelsadilla for holding the Miata in such high regards, especially after the incident in law school when I saw a goofy classmate driving a white Miata with the top down while wearing a teal polo shirt and a bright red beret.

Anyway, I was somewhat excited to drive the Miata, so chelsadilla and I put the top down and drove around the hilly countryside of Western Pennsylvania. It was fucking awesome. We drove around to a bunch of the different little towns that are right around Pittsburgh. It's strange. All of these places are about fifteen minutes from downtown, but they feel like small, rural, quaint little towns. Very charming. Or at least that's the feeling I get--it's hard to tell since most of it whizzed by at fifty miles an hour.

We went and visited chelsadilla's childhood home in a town called something like Rivendell. Pretty cool.

Eventually, we went back to chelsadilla's brother's place, hung out for a bit, and then headed out to Sarris Candies, which claims to have the world's best chocolate. I don't know if that's true, but their chocolate is damned good. Their store is also, um, unique. Chelsadilla's sister-in-law explained that when they decorate it for Christmas, it looks like Santa Claus threw up in the place. I thought this was a strange thing to say because I couldn't imagine a place looking more like Santa Claus threw up in it than this place already did. But the hot-fudge sundae was spectacular, so I didn't mind the gaudy decor too much.

Eventually, chelsadilla's parents came over and the sister-in-law made another amazing dinner consisting of marinated chicken thighs and breasts along with some other stuff. It was good.

But, yeah, driving the Miata was my favorite part of the trip.

Posted by Ismael Tapia II at 11:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)| Filed under Existential Nonsense , Fun Shit I've Done , Restaurant and Bar Reviews , Reviews