Everything I Like Causes Cancer

It's no big secret that I love my city. I do. It's the biggest small town in America and I like it. But today? Well, today I fell a little more in love with it. See, a couple months ago the City opened a new park/art exhibit/playground called Citygarden and I went there today. Holy smokes, is it fantastic. I was amazed by the size of it, how beautiful it was, that there were actually people congregated somewhere downtown on a Saturday, and by the amount of fun everyone was having. Projects like this are supposed to bring communities closer together and this one certainly does.

I drug H out of her sickbed on Sunday and took her to see the Sugar and Art Guild's Sugared, Spiced and Everything Iced show at the Botannical Gardens.  I'm pretty sure she hates me now and is scheming a payback.  You see, the "show" consisted of six large folding tables set up in a square to display about 30 cakes and a handful of cookies we couldn't even eat.

Because we're so young and spry we had enough energy left to go shopping after THE BIG SHOW and headed down to Gringo Jones where it seems they're having a sale of sorts.

There was more shopping that I won't bore you with but do you remember when I wished for a comfortable, full-body blanket and y'all told me to get a Snuggie?  Well, there's a reason it ends in "ugg(L)ie", if you know what I mean.  It is certainly functional and I love that you cared enough to offer assistance, but once one of you funny bastards likened it to a wizard cape I knew I could do better.  Judge for yourself:

The Vapors

Now this?  This keeps me warm, makes me feel all elegant and shit, and won't show Pizza Roll stains or Dorito crumbs.  I can't wait to stand in my front yard in it, shaking an upraised fist in rage, yelling at kids to stay off my lawn.

This morning I took my car to a shop a couple blocks away for its bi-annual inspections and an oil change.  As I was walking home I decided to finally stop at the Bosnian bakery near my house.  I had zero expectation since I know nothing about Bosnian food despite the fact that I have lived in this predominantly Bosnian neighborhood five years.  Shame on me.

Well, we got another couple inches of snow after I went to bed last night and now I really can't get out.  There is about six inches of snow in the alley and my low-riding Spyder is just not built for trekking through that kind of snow.  I called the office about 7 am and took a vacation day.

I'm still giggling over that last post.  I don't know what came over me but it felt good to let the mouthy whore who lives in my brain write that one.  Hee.

(The grocery list does not end in "porn" lemonade. It's "pom" lemonade, like pomegranate, you dirty monkeys.)

As you can see, I was out and about in the world running errands, picking up two pounds of hashbrowns, fish sticks, tater tots, and cheez whiz, a diet which just may explain the need for a new toilet paper holder. I remember rounding the corner into the parking lot of Lowe's and seeing a gal (?) standing by the entrance doors, enjoying a cigarette. Her body shape was so odd it screamed, "Look at me!" Imagine a ball with arms and legs. My oddball radar started sounding the alarm, giving me the lights AND the bells.

I parked my car and walked toward the store, watching her every move. She was facing the parking lot and yelling in a rough, gravelly voice at someone I couldn't see. As I got closer I could see that she was missing a bra and an alarming number of teeth.

But the best part? Printed across her severely faded and stretched-out-of-shape t-shirt was the word "TRAINER." I shit you not, "TRAINER." I was twitching trying to contain myself, but I simply couldn't get the shot without being a complete asshole.

See? Manners.

* I cleaned out every cabinet and shelf in it. I threw out, recycled and shredded so much old junk that I was able to make room for my yearbooks, photo albums and scrapbooks. What does this mean for you, monkeys? More old, and likely humiliating, pictures of me! Yay!

So yeah, Peabody came over yesterday and we summered in The Hamptons. All of your comments were hilarious, BTW. We’d have moved over for any one of you. Girlfriend kicked off the ridiculous for the day when she pulled six airline bottles of liquor out of her goody bag.

She kept the ridiculous flowing when she insisted on swimming laps. Keep in mind it’s a ten-foot pool. I haven’t actually gone back to the record books but I’m pretty sure she broke all previous Daydream Olympics time trial records. She earned it; she worked hard.

My yard inclines incline slightly so the pool ends up having a very definite deep end. Remind me to pick up some water wings.

Taking a four-hour bath in the backyard with your friends isn’t for everyone but she and I sure had a kick. She loved it so much that a telephone call this morning found her at Target searching for a pool of her very own. She’s going to class it up a bit, though, and set it up on her driveway. Her fancy neighbors are going to love that. Mmm-hmmm.

Shortly after Peabody left, I got a call from LM who was checking to see if I was ready to go see the naked people. There was a buzz in town all week last week about the World Naked Bike Ride. From what I read it seemed like the STLPD just wanted to be sure that the organizers and participants were very clear on what is and what is not acceptable under the local public nudity codes. It also sounded like there was the potential for some skirmishing. She and I are both insatiably curious so you know we made a quick plan to go see what the fuss was about.

Sadly, there was a lot less nudity than we were expecting. We saw maybe five gals with bare but painted breasts and one naked guy. One. One naked guy. And we didn’t even actually see him, LM just happened to get a picture of him. It’s funny to see his wiener just hanging out there on his bike seat.

Anyway, I took video of almost the entire procession. It was dark so you can’t see much in some parts of the video but occasionally the obnoxious guy next to me would take a picture (make sure you catch his brilliant color commentary at the beginning) and his flash illuminates enough that you can get a sense of what it was like. It was pretty funny and there were a couple characters in the group. Almost immediately (about 0:05) watch for the guy who's wearing a naked girl suit. At around 1:40 you hear this one little gal yelling, "Yay for the polar bears and the unicorns and sea turtles!" I love how she gets all hysterical at the end. And at about 1:54 you see a bike outfitted to look like a camel.

Overall we thought it was fun and different and cool and we were glad we went, but we were disappointed by the number of people who were fully clothed. I sort of wish we had made it to the park to watch the participants prepare for the ride; I think there might’ve been more freaky frolicking to witness. We talked about it at length last night when it was over and there are a couple of us who want to ride in it if they do it again next year.

Yes, I am included in that group and no, I won’t ride entirely nude. Too bad for you!

Maybe I'll ride back up to the shop today and buy a basket.

1:30 pm - 2:30 pm: I browsed up and down every aisle in Big Lots. I like to do this occasionally just to see what they have in the store because you never know what treasure is around the corner, marked $1. I found some really nice planters for next to nothing - a nested set of 3 for $12 and an urn for $20. They also had reed diffusers for $5 so I picked up a couple.

Last year's batch.

3 pm to 3:30 pm: I finally make it to Blues City. This place makes the best sandwich in town. Period. No argument. The owner is a drummer who I met years and years ago when he played in my very favorite STL blues band, so it's also one of those places where everyone knows my name. My personal connection does not bias my judgment of the sandwiches, though. Seriously, look at it. This one is The Vino: fresh locally baked bread, roast beef, bacon, lettuce, tomato, pickle, and a sweet red pepper sauce so tasty it'll make you wanna slap yo momma, which is why I never go there with her.

I sat there, ignoring my book because the people watching was so awesome, eating my sandwich, enjoying the view, and listening to the musical talents of Jim "Ribtip" McClaren. It felt good to be alive.

3:30 pm to 4:30 pm: Again, up and down every aisle, but this time at Target. I had a list but I also had time so I browsed and browsed. I also spent double what I was expecting and had budgeted, but I had fun and got some great stuff.

4:45 pm to 6:30 pm: Carrying in bags, putting away goods and lounging on the couch.

6:30 pm to 11 pm: Hung out at Heathybear's new apartment. We intended to continue unpacking her stuff but when I got there she had popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate her new place so we sat on her couch drinking mimosas and watching Arrested Development until I couldn't keep my eyes open any more.

Well, I'm off to take my shower and then make sure we have all the ingredients we need to make pickles. If I already had that basket, I'd ride my bike to the store. Maybe I will anyway and take my backpack.

UPDATED TO ADD, 12:20 PM: I'm so glad I didn't take the bike. The bike shop was closed and the first grocery I went to didn't have fresh dill. The second one had everything I needed, but after having scanned my items in the self-checkout lane I realized I hadn't brought my wallet and had to go back home to get it. Add in that it's hotter than the underside of Satan's balls out there today, and you've got one me who never runs errands on her bike again. Crisis averted by laziness.

I interrupt our regularly scheduled question and answer session to memorialize the passing of a St. Louis institution, Chuy Arzola's, an authentic Tex-Mex restaurant that closed it's doors permanently last night. In business since 1989, it was my good friend Brian's most beloved of all restaurants. I was skeptical of going on the last night, wondering if they'd have any food, drink, or places to sit, but Brian was so forlorn that I relented and met him there around 4:30. He and I sat at the bar until 9 drinking margaritas, eating what he dubbed The Last Supper, reliving past drunken dinners and commiserating with other loyal patrons.

Chuy's was an interesting place. I was never crazy about the food. It was good but it didn't rock my palette. Brian, on the other hand, loved the Austin. I'm not sure he ever ordered anything else.

Brian's last Austin.

For me, it was about the atmosphere and the margaritas. One reviewer summed it up nicely, "The scene is ultra-casual. You could dine here in pink plastic flip-flops with your hair still wet after a soak in your hot tub, and no one would look at you twice. In fact, the menu demands that diners "maintain a happy and relaxed attitude to conform to our atmosphere." In keeping with Chuy's laid-back character, the servers are dressed down, but don't let their casual appearance fool you. They're pros who know how to keep their customers happy."

Speaking of the service, there was a chip basket full of pens and note cards on the bar last night so that heartbroken patrons could write final messages to the management and staff. A photo album filled with these cards told stories of first dates, proposals, parties, and family gatherings, stories of children who would only behave and/or eat there, and tales of drunkenness, but the most common sentiment was love for the staff: Angel, Santos, Eddie, Chuy, Vanessa, and many others whose names I can't remember after my 5 margaritas. Noticeably absent, in my mind, was any mention of the host of many years who left a while back to open his own Mexican restaurant. Whoops.





I suspect that the rest of you were also out given that today is a national holiday. Hope you had a good time. I'll be back later with some more answered questions. In the meantime, enjoy the someecards.com card I'd have sent you if I wasn't too lazy to cut and paste all your email addys.

Yesterday I read an article in the local paper about a St. Louis character, a man known as "The Rose Man." The Rose Man made his living selling roses at bars and concerts and clubs. Sadly, at 3:00 am Monday morning he was collateral damage in a drive-by shooting at a nightclub in an area of town unfamiliar to me.

Thinking about The Rose Man reminded me of one of the funnier exchanges The Gregger and I have ever had. I think we were all out for my birthday at Broadway Oyster Bar. It was pretty late. I was sitting next to The Gregger at the outside bar, talking, when a similar rose peddler approached us. I know it wasn't The Rose Man because I'd remember if this guy was wearing a red suit and hat.

The man extended a rose to The Gregger, the unspoken sales tactic. Without missing a beat I turned to TG and said, "If you loved me, you'd buy me a rose." Keep in mind The Gregger and I are not a couple, but I was acting like we were. I think I might have even grabbed his hand and made mooney eyes at him.

The Gregger paused, then looked me right in the eye and replied, "Well, this is really awkward, and probably bad timing, but I don't love you."

At this point we were really in character and playing it off so I slapped him. I thought that poor rose seller was going to have a heart attack. His eyes got huge.

The cherry on the top of this story is that another friend, Jimmy, was on the other side of the rose seller, was oblivious to our exchange, and in the same moment I smacked TG he handed me a rose bought from the vendor and said, "Happy birthday!". That poor rose man had no idea what to make of us and we almost died from the laughing.

Rest in peace, Rose Man.

This is the new baby giraffe that was born at the St. Louis Zoo on Saturday afternoon. He doesn't have a name yet. I'm suggesting Sugar Lips.

"I'm ready for the show now!"

I think the sober Sunday afternoon drove him to it. Future hosts should know he has a one-drink-per-day minimum and that without it he gets restless.

Shortly after this, Dave and Jodi showed up. As they approached the table I was trying to get a picture of Fernando all drinky and Jodi immediately suggested we crush his head. She and I are now BFF.

"I crush you, you drunk pig! I crush your head!"

Jodi was crushing everything.

The show is fantastically hilarious. There are several times where it's appropriate for them to mention the particular town in which they are currently playing and every time an emotionless voice comes over the PA system and says the town name. For example, when they first came out on stage they apologized for starting late, something about there still being weed in the bong, and then said how happy they were to be in "ST. LOUIS." Hilarity.

It was everything you would expect from them. There were two skits from the TV show. The first was the one where Gavin meets some Jehovas witnesses which ends, if I remember correctly, with a comparison of religion to lottery tickets. In the end it's proposed that a "Scratch and Win Bible" would be a great product. "It's kind of the same thing anyway."

The second one was the one where the Chicken Lady has phone sex. "Gotta get laid!" The sketch ended with feathers and eggs flying out of her nether regions.

If you look closely you can see her creepy chicken feet.

There was ingenious word play, I'm still trying to think of a way to work "absinthe-minded" into a professional conversation.

There was cross dressing and partial nudity.

Look closely. Scott is wearing his "street clothes" a.k.a. no pants.

Buddy Cole does a monologue where he proposes Jesus was a homosexual. Dave and Kevin fought over an imaginary girlfriend, Camille. There were several fabulous time machine sketches. In one Dave uses the time machine to defeat last call at a bar. In another he uses it to continuously get his annual birthday blow job from his wife, played by Bruce. The best, however, has Dave going back in time to kill Hitler but ends up sharing a beer with him and inspiring his hatred of Jews.

Good time, people. Good times.

The encore brought Mr. Tyzik, the headcrusher, on stage with a camera which he used to film himself crushing the heads of audience members.

Little did he know I was simultaneously crushing his head.


The other Kids eventually came out and, one by one, he imitated them while crushing their heads until they fell down dead.


Not one to go down without a fight, Kevin sucked on his finger. Mr. Tyzik eventually won.

The show was great. Because Jeff was officially on vacation we opted to have one more drink "for the ditch" in the Halo Bar, the watering hole attached to the venue. While casually enjoying our drinks Dave Foley came out of nowhere and approached us. I was so star-struck and excited that I don't remember much of our exchange with him. I attribute 100% of this chance meeting to our being in the company of a true Canuck, Jodi. I think there's a magnetic force field, shaped like a maple leaf, that draws them together.

The only part I do remember with clarity is asking him if I could get a picture with "my" pig. He was very gracious about it considering Fernando was pretty drunk and kept slurring, "Kick assth! The lastth cthelebrity I met wasth Lorraine Bracco."

As soon as he walked away we all slapped our foreheads . . . we should've offered to buy him a Molson! D'oh!

It's funny, he didn't seem to stop and talk to anyone else. It was as if he walked in, came straight to us, visited, and then walked right back out the other door. That right there is the definition of kismet.

I had to pack up Fernando Wednesday morning and let me tell you, it was a tough thing to do. I really enjoyed his company. For the most part, he was a considerate and fun houseguest. It was hard to say goodbye.

I miss you, little buddy!