As noted, I missed the 2nd pre-season home game against Miami. If you don't have a life, we were victorious 17-3.
The regular season would commence on a really rough note. The night before the game I went to Eric and Amanda's wedding. I proceeded to get relatively trashed at the recpetion. Then, we went to the Alpha and drank til about 2am or so. One of Amanda's friends (Jen) left her car downtown and otped to stay the night. We both passed out.
I awoke the next morning when the sun hit my face. My alarm clock said 8:44am. I started screaming, "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" I could not believe it - I had overslept through both alarms (my cell phone and my alarm clock). I woke up Jen and we flew out the door. I basically drove through several red lights and stop signs and made it to limo land at 9am. I called Killer, apologized, and told him I running about 15 minutes late. He was cool about it and said to just get moving. I dropped Jen at her car and bolted to Killer's place. They were waiting outside on the street corner. Lisa gave me a little flack which was understandable. We then zipped to Stoney and picked up Danny and Rita. Rita came to my defense telling everyone that they were late as well so it was irrelevant.
The rest of the day was much calmer. I snagged a ticket at crunch time for $20.00 off an older gentleman. It was a 200 level suite ticket just a few rows up with a $195.00 face value. Ironically, my best seat for the whole year. I had been very fortunate as it was opening day and there weren't many extras floating around. I hung out with Scottie and Schneid on the 5th tier for a while. Schneid wanted to bet me 5 bucks that Tennessee wouldn't score an offensive touchdown. I declined and minutes later they scored their only touchdown of the game. Then I decided to check out my seat. I sat in the air-conditioned suite for a while and then walked down to check out my real location. I thanked the guy who sold me the ticket a few times. Nice guy - didn't mind that I hadn't showered and probably smelled horrible as it was blistering hot. Everyone was sweating profusely. I sat there until midway through the 3rd period and then left for the pit.
It was a relatively uneventful ride home. Dropped them all off and got home around 7pm. The Steelers got a resounding win but it was a rough way to start the season.
STEELERS 34
TENNESSEE 7
Friday, February 10, 2006
Steelers game #1
In honor of the Steelers winning the Superbowl, I have decided to post my experiences from every game I attended this year. This was the first time I hit all the regular season games. The only game I missed was the 2nd pre-season game against Miami. I think I had a limo gig at Starlake, or something similar. It was a gripping season of football and each game had its own strange vibe.
Danno and I hit the first pre-season game of the year since the Eagles were playing. Some of you might recall that the last time we went to a pre-season Pittsburgh/Philly game, I got rear-ended in the Fort Pitt tunnel by the original Cunting Whore. That's pretty much irrelevant, but it does provide a nice backdrop for what would occur this time. We avoided the overpriced parking and opted for a spot on the street above PNC Park near the Children's Hospital. We packed up a to-go bag and tok it to the streets. On our way to the stadium I was summoned over by a black city cop standing on the curb between gold lots 1 & 2. This would prove to be my initial encounter with him. I walked over and casually said, "Hey, what's up?" He promptly explained that the city of Pittsburgh has an open container law and demanded to see my license. I was in a mild state of shock. I asked him, "When did this new non-tailgating policy go into effect?" He seemed uninterested and directed me over to his female partner who had just finished writing a citation. Still astonished at what was transpiring, I asked her the same question and she rudely threatened to "take me downtown." At this point I just decided to shut the hell up. She issued me the open-container ticket and I mumbled a sarcastic thank you. Meanwhile, Danno was observing the whole incident from a safe distance. Suddenly a large group walked by chanting "Here we go Steelers, here we go." Most of them were hoisting beers in the air. I asked her, "What about them?" but she was totally disinterested. Apparently I was the better target - Jew, isolated, unshaven, and so on. After the ordeal, we walked into the Gold Lot 1 and there was a group of people sitting around moping and disgusted. They too had been caught up in this revenue enhancement sting operation.
Anyway, we had a relatively decent time at the game. We snagged tickets for 10 bucks a piece and sat in the 500 level. There was a strange anti-bandwagon female "fan" who sat in front of us. She was wearing a Philly jersey - I think it was a Donovan McNabb one. Danno and her talked for a little bit. Strangely enough, when the Steelers took an early convincing lead, she removed the McNabb jersey, and much to our mutual chagrin, she was wearing a Steelers shirt underneath. She had literally changed sides in a split second. I'd never seen such a drastic change-up. Some kind of anti-inverted bandwagon approach to fandom. We tried to explain the error of her ways but she didn't want to hear it - A lot like the 2 cops who co-issued me the open container ticket.
Anyway, most of the night I bitched about the fine. I was so pissed off that I decided to write a blurb about it on the wimp. It would later turn into a poll and I would eventually pay the fine, although I did include a rather terse letter to their superior. Not that it would matter, or would it?
STEELERS 38
EAGLES 31
Here is the orgininal post from the wimp. Don't be surpised if the specific details are different. It has been several months.
Something out of the ordinary happened to me last night. I went golfing with Danno in Cannonsburg and hit the Steelers/Eagles game at Heinz Field. Anyway, after soundly defeating Danno, we proceeded up to the stadium. Parking at the Carnegie Science Center lot was a whopping $35.00 and all the main lots were pre-sold. So I ventured beyond PNC and parked on the street for free. As we walked to the stadium we passed a police officer who was writing a citation to a semi-homeless black dude for an open container violation. The cop motioned toward me and told me to "come over here". I complied and walked over. Then he called over to a female cop who immediately asked me for my drivers license. I was kind of surprised but handed it to her. She explained that it was illegal to have an open container on the city streets. Keep in mind, there are people drinking everywhere, all around us - some on the street, some in the lot. I asked her why they singled me out and she said that "things could get much worse if you continue acting belligerent." I explained, while smiling that I was not being belligerent - I just wanted to know when this new selective no-tailgating policy had gone into effect. She wandered off to her police van and started writing the ticket. Then, she handed me back my license and the ticket and said I was free to go.
The reason I'm mentioning this whole incident is because I am going to let my fellow wimpers decide whether or not I will pay this fine. How's that for Democracy? You get to vote. I have 10 days to pay the fine or throw it in the garbage. Keep in mind, I could conceivably get a warrant in Pennsylvania although I'm not entirely sure they can issue a warrant for an open container violation. Here are some other specs on the incident which might help sway your vote.
I was with Danno at the time. Danno also had an open container but they went after me and he escaped underneath the radar. I was carrying a clear Ikea plastic bag with 3 more Miller Lites in addition to the open one. The first cop had me dump the can and then said I could take the bag of beers with me after it was all over.
The female cop never asked me to sign the ticket. She also didn't write down my social security number - never asked for it . She also didn't specify the amount of the fine, although it says "if no fine is specifed, remit a check or m.o. for $50.00." My address listed on the ticket is my old place in North Puke, not my current residence. 34 Eagle Ave instead of 45 Ridgewood.
The drivers license # is correct.
The comment area on the ticket reads "Actor had an open container of Miller Lite on a city street". No other comments were made. Not quite sure why I was referred to as an "actor".
That pretty much sums it up. I encountered a few other people who had also just been given tickets. They were more noticeably distraught than me. Personally, I think I got caught up in some ill-designed revenue enhancement sting outside the stadium. I also think that nothing will happen if I don't pay the fine ($50.00). I think they were just randomly issuing as many tickets as they can and then hope for the best.
The only cool thing about this whole crappy incident is that you guys control my destiny. If you have some old grudge, here's a great opportunity to get back at me - make him pay the fine. Ironically, even more sinister, would be to vote "no way" and secretly hope I get a bench warrant. Anyway, I'll sum it up with "vote or die." It's now in your hands.
and the poll results turned out like this...
Should our brother Saf pay the fine?
Yes. Make the fool Jew part with his money.
41%
[ 5 ]
No. Fuck da police!
25%
[ 3 ]
Who gives a shit about Saf?
16%
[ 2 ]
Fight it in court, preferably Judge Judy
16%
[ 2 ]
Total Votes : 12
Danno and I hit the first pre-season game of the year since the Eagles were playing. Some of you might recall that the last time we went to a pre-season Pittsburgh/Philly game, I got rear-ended in the Fort Pitt tunnel by the original Cunting Whore. That's pretty much irrelevant, but it does provide a nice backdrop for what would occur this time. We avoided the overpriced parking and opted for a spot on the street above PNC Park near the Children's Hospital. We packed up a to-go bag and tok it to the streets. On our way to the stadium I was summoned over by a black city cop standing on the curb between gold lots 1 & 2. This would prove to be my initial encounter with him. I walked over and casually said, "Hey, what's up?" He promptly explained that the city of Pittsburgh has an open container law and demanded to see my license. I was in a mild state of shock. I asked him, "When did this new non-tailgating policy go into effect?" He seemed uninterested and directed me over to his female partner who had just finished writing a citation. Still astonished at what was transpiring, I asked her the same question and she rudely threatened to "take me downtown." At this point I just decided to shut the hell up. She issued me the open-container ticket and I mumbled a sarcastic thank you. Meanwhile, Danno was observing the whole incident from a safe distance. Suddenly a large group walked by chanting "Here we go Steelers, here we go." Most of them were hoisting beers in the air. I asked her, "What about them?" but she was totally disinterested. Apparently I was the better target - Jew, isolated, unshaven, and so on. After the ordeal, we walked into the Gold Lot 1 and there was a group of people sitting around moping and disgusted. They too had been caught up in this revenue enhancement sting operation.
Anyway, we had a relatively decent time at the game. We snagged tickets for 10 bucks a piece and sat in the 500 level. There was a strange anti-bandwagon female "fan" who sat in front of us. She was wearing a Philly jersey - I think it was a Donovan McNabb one. Danno and her talked for a little bit. Strangely enough, when the Steelers took an early convincing lead, she removed the McNabb jersey, and much to our mutual chagrin, she was wearing a Steelers shirt underneath. She had literally changed sides in a split second. I'd never seen such a drastic change-up. Some kind of anti-inverted bandwagon approach to fandom. We tried to explain the error of her ways but she didn't want to hear it - A lot like the 2 cops who co-issued me the open container ticket.
Anyway, most of the night I bitched about the fine. I was so pissed off that I decided to write a blurb about it on the wimp. It would later turn into a poll and I would eventually pay the fine, although I did include a rather terse letter to their superior. Not that it would matter, or would it?
STEELERS 38
EAGLES 31
Here is the orgininal post from the wimp. Don't be surpised if the specific details are different. It has been several months.
Something out of the ordinary happened to me last night. I went golfing with Danno in Cannonsburg and hit the Steelers/Eagles game at Heinz Field. Anyway, after soundly defeating Danno, we proceeded up to the stadium. Parking at the Carnegie Science Center lot was a whopping $35.00 and all the main lots were pre-sold. So I ventured beyond PNC and parked on the street for free. As we walked to the stadium we passed a police officer who was writing a citation to a semi-homeless black dude for an open container violation. The cop motioned toward me and told me to "come over here". I complied and walked over. Then he called over to a female cop who immediately asked me for my drivers license. I was kind of surprised but handed it to her. She explained that it was illegal to have an open container on the city streets. Keep in mind, there are people drinking everywhere, all around us - some on the street, some in the lot. I asked her why they singled me out and she said that "things could get much worse if you continue acting belligerent." I explained, while smiling that I was not being belligerent - I just wanted to know when this new selective no-tailgating policy had gone into effect. She wandered off to her police van and started writing the ticket. Then, she handed me back my license and the ticket and said I was free to go.
The reason I'm mentioning this whole incident is because I am going to let my fellow wimpers decide whether or not I will pay this fine. How's that for Democracy? You get to vote. I have 10 days to pay the fine or throw it in the garbage. Keep in mind, I could conceivably get a warrant in Pennsylvania although I'm not entirely sure they can issue a warrant for an open container violation. Here are some other specs on the incident which might help sway your vote.
I was with Danno at the time. Danno also had an open container but they went after me and he escaped underneath the radar. I was carrying a clear Ikea plastic bag with 3 more Miller Lites in addition to the open one. The first cop had me dump the can and then said I could take the bag of beers with me after it was all over.
The female cop never asked me to sign the ticket. She also didn't write down my social security number - never asked for it . She also didn't specify the amount of the fine, although it says "if no fine is specifed, remit a check or m.o. for $50.00." My address listed on the ticket is my old place in North Puke, not my current residence. 34 Eagle Ave instead of 45 Ridgewood.
The drivers license # is correct.
The comment area on the ticket reads "Actor had an open container of Miller Lite on a city street". No other comments were made. Not quite sure why I was referred to as an "actor".
That pretty much sums it up. I encountered a few other people who had also just been given tickets. They were more noticeably distraught than me. Personally, I think I got caught up in some ill-designed revenue enhancement sting outside the stadium. I also think that nothing will happen if I don't pay the fine ($50.00). I think they were just randomly issuing as many tickets as they can and then hope for the best.
The only cool thing about this whole crappy incident is that you guys control my destiny. If you have some old grudge, here's a great opportunity to get back at me - make him pay the fine. Ironically, even more sinister, would be to vote "no way" and secretly hope I get a bench warrant. Anyway, I'll sum it up with "vote or die." It's now in your hands.
and the poll results turned out like this...
Should our brother Saf pay the fine?
Yes. Make the fool Jew part with his money.
41%
[ 5 ]
No. Fuck da police!
25%
[ 3 ]
Who gives a shit about Saf?
16%
[ 2 ]
Fight it in court, preferably Judge Judy
16%
[ 2 ]
Total Votes : 12
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Met Grill - the saga continues
On Friday, I met up with Heather and surprise lunch guest B Noel, for a return visit to the scene of the crime. Once I again I'll reiterate my thoughts on the Met Grill. The food is great. The question is whether or not they are willing to sell it to you. This is a continuing source of consternation and bewilderment. Anyway, we entered the place about 11:50am. You've got to there before noon if you want any chance of success. Success at this restaurant simply means "getting to eat the food."
Much to my delight it appears that Oaf-Boy is no longer employed there. A friend of mine (J.S.) claims he offered her some heroin a few weeks ago. Hard to believe. You'd think he would have had a prosperous career at this establishment. Anyway, B joins us and we all place our orders with the new waitress (young girl - somewhat pleasant). I ordered the salmon pasta with a side salad. B orders some hamburger nonsense and Heather got the chicken portabella sandwich with a side salad. We waited about 25 minutes and our food arrived. Not bad. My only complaint was that my side salad should have been served first rather than with the meal. Normally, one expects to receive the salad early since it was not a lunch combo, but rather, ordered a la carte. Anyway, I'm just thrilled they got the order correct. We're halfway through our meal and a local atty (J.S. - not the same J.S., the other one is a woman) shows up. He was meeting a client and sat down with us for a while. He was impressed with the level on my keychain. I use it to verify the playability of outside foosball tables. Incidentally, I stole it from Scott T a few years ago. I extracted it from his keychain and put it on mine. He seemed puzzled by my blatant theft but I told him it was for the greater good, whatever that means. He's like, "Saf, you can buy them over a True Value for 79 cents." I'm like, "No, I need this one."
Anyway, the food is decent and I insist on picking up the tab. I think the bill came to something like $26 for the 3 of us. I gave our waitress a $100. She comes back with a slightly exasperated look. "Excuse me, do you have anything smaller. We don't have change for a hundred." Me being a Wheeling bigshot, I respond, "Not really, it's all I've got." This was a true statement. I suppose I could have used a credit card, but to be blunt, there are so many quality control issues with this place, I thought that using my Mastercard would be an error in judgement. Anyway, she looks at me and says, "Well, I'll see what I can do." I thought to myself - maybe I should have offered to go around from table to table and ask if anyone has change. That would have been appropriate at this place because everything truly is a group effort. By the way, I also asked for 3 large to go boxes as I was going to get all the leftovers (salad, salmon/pasta, and half a sandwich with the remnants of some vegetable skewer thing). She manages to find the change for the hundred. They probably had to send someone to the bank. Isn't it odd that a restaurant wouldn't have change for a hundred dollar bill (on a Friday no less)?
She comes back with 4 mini stirofoam boxes. They are out of normal sized to-go boxes. It's cool though. I stack the boxes as if they were a ladder to heaven. Think of it, I'm the one building the ladder to heaven at the Met Grill. Can we achieve a greater level of ironic blasphemy?
Anyway we all say our goodbyes and head out the door. I get to the car and start looking for my keys. I must have left them on the table. Heather keeps a watchful eye on the to-go boxes and I head back inside. I'm looking all over the place. I ask the waitress - did you see my car keys? She says no as they haven't cleared the table yet. I'm a little confused. I ask the trio at the next table if their 3 yeard old might have snagged them. Nope. I'm like what the fuck - B Noel must have snagged them. I call him and he also repsonds in the negative. I'm a little flustered. The only other option is local atty., J.S. He must have snagged them but I don't know his number. Wait a minute, he was meeting a client for lunch there. I scan the restaurant and see them in the back. I go over and say, "Hey, what the hell? Did you take my keys?" He's a little surprised but starts fumbling in his jacket pocket, and lo and behold, pulls out my keys. I ask him, "How the hell do you just snag someone elses keys?" He offers up an apologetic glance and hands them over - "Sorry Saf, I don't know how I ended up with them."
Alright, no problem, I figured it all out. This is how he gets people off DUI's and it's consistent with overall Met Grill policy. When a client somes to the office of J.S. with a DUI, he takes their keys. This way he can look at the client and as a matter of absolute certainty calmly say, "You will never get another DUI." Well duhhhh - How am I supposed to drive without my keys? Kind of an innovative strategy for a young attorney.
Much to my delight it appears that Oaf-Boy is no longer employed there. A friend of mine (J.S.) claims he offered her some heroin a few weeks ago. Hard to believe. You'd think he would have had a prosperous career at this establishment. Anyway, B joins us and we all place our orders with the new waitress (young girl - somewhat pleasant). I ordered the salmon pasta with a side salad. B orders some hamburger nonsense and Heather got the chicken portabella sandwich with a side salad. We waited about 25 minutes and our food arrived. Not bad. My only complaint was that my side salad should have been served first rather than with the meal. Normally, one expects to receive the salad early since it was not a lunch combo, but rather, ordered a la carte. Anyway, I'm just thrilled they got the order correct. We're halfway through our meal and a local atty (J.S. - not the same J.S., the other one is a woman) shows up. He was meeting a client and sat down with us for a while. He was impressed with the level on my keychain. I use it to verify the playability of outside foosball tables. Incidentally, I stole it from Scott T a few years ago. I extracted it from his keychain and put it on mine. He seemed puzzled by my blatant theft but I told him it was for the greater good, whatever that means. He's like, "Saf, you can buy them over a True Value for 79 cents." I'm like, "No, I need this one."
Anyway, the food is decent and I insist on picking up the tab. I think the bill came to something like $26 for the 3 of us. I gave our waitress a $100. She comes back with a slightly exasperated look. "Excuse me, do you have anything smaller. We don't have change for a hundred." Me being a Wheeling bigshot, I respond, "Not really, it's all I've got." This was a true statement. I suppose I could have used a credit card, but to be blunt, there are so many quality control issues with this place, I thought that using my Mastercard would be an error in judgement. Anyway, she looks at me and says, "Well, I'll see what I can do." I thought to myself - maybe I should have offered to go around from table to table and ask if anyone has change. That would have been appropriate at this place because everything truly is a group effort. By the way, I also asked for 3 large to go boxes as I was going to get all the leftovers (salad, salmon/pasta, and half a sandwich with the remnants of some vegetable skewer thing). She manages to find the change for the hundred. They probably had to send someone to the bank. Isn't it odd that a restaurant wouldn't have change for a hundred dollar bill (on a Friday no less)?
She comes back with 4 mini stirofoam boxes. They are out of normal sized to-go boxes. It's cool though. I stack the boxes as if they were a ladder to heaven. Think of it, I'm the one building the ladder to heaven at the Met Grill. Can we achieve a greater level of ironic blasphemy?
Anyway we all say our goodbyes and head out the door. I get to the car and start looking for my keys. I must have left them on the table. Heather keeps a watchful eye on the to-go boxes and I head back inside. I'm looking all over the place. I ask the waitress - did you see my car keys? She says no as they haven't cleared the table yet. I'm a little confused. I ask the trio at the next table if their 3 yeard old might have snagged them. Nope. I'm like what the fuck - B Noel must have snagged them. I call him and he also repsonds in the negative. I'm a little flustered. The only other option is local atty., J.S. He must have snagged them but I don't know his number. Wait a minute, he was meeting a client for lunch there. I scan the restaurant and see them in the back. I go over and say, "Hey, what the hell? Did you take my keys?" He's a little surprised but starts fumbling in his jacket pocket, and lo and behold, pulls out my keys. I ask him, "How the hell do you just snag someone elses keys?" He offers up an apologetic glance and hands them over - "Sorry Saf, I don't know how I ended up with them."
Alright, no problem, I figured it all out. This is how he gets people off DUI's and it's consistent with overall Met Grill policy. When a client somes to the office of J.S. with a DUI, he takes their keys. This way he can look at the client and as a matter of absolute certainty calmly say, "You will never get another DUI." Well duhhhh - How am I supposed to drive without my keys? Kind of an innovative strategy for a young attorney.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
sonofsoup
Well, I suffered my first defeat in the soup milieu. Everything started out fine. Stock, carrots, celery, onion, meatballs, zucchini (Jean Anne thought they were cucumber slices), and various secret seasonings. Then, I decided to get creative. I usually go with a potato base but decided to mix it up and infuse the concoction with an egg noodle ensemble. Absolute disaster. After 20 minutes the soup started to resemble some kind vomitous slime. Metaphorically speaking, it became a Sunni triangle quagmire. AJ had some kind words. "It's the best tasting gruel I've ever had. Mmmmm, just tell people it's chicken'n'dumplings."
Needless to say, I dumped it out this morning. Even the garbage disposal seemed a bit disturbed. To anyone who reads this crap, I make this pledge...
SONOFSOUP WILL RETURN
Needless to say, I dumped it out this morning. Even the garbage disposal seemed a bit disturbed. To anyone who reads this crap, I make this pledge...
SONOFSOUP WILL RETURN
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Phil Lesh & Friends
Several people were on hand last night for the Phil & Friends show at the AJ Palumbo Center (Duquesne's basketball court). The show itself was much better than I anticipated. Not the greatest musicianship but Chris Robinson's vocals on all the songs were a refreshing change of pace considering the only other option was Phil Lesh's atrocious musings. Decent set list - some of the highlights were my all-time favorite Dead opener, Let the Good Times Roll. Strong Not Fade Away ended the first set. My expectations were pretty damn low so I'd say the show definitely over-acheived. I sampled the cuisine as well. I ate a slightly burnt personal pizza, a relatively edible hot dog and then finished it off with a grilled cheese after the show. I bought it from a hippie - I asked her name and she replied Dandelion (I think). Then I inquired about her middle name and she stammered, "Uhh, I don't know." Then, she slammed the grilled cheese on a nearby cement column and said "Here you go." A little stunned, I looked at her and asked for a napkin. She didn't have one but offered up the cellophane from the cheese slice as a substitue. I was a tiny bit apprehensive but consumed the sandwich in less than 1 minute.
What really made the night a special one was my mode of entry into the Palumbo Center. I absolutely refused to pay 40 bucks for a ticket to see this crapulence. I looked for a 20 dollar ticket outside the entrance but there were far too many hippies and miracle seekers. These days it's nearly impossible for me to compete with the hordes of Mother Shabooboos and miscellaneous dreaded fucks. I am viewed with slightly less venom than campus security.
Anyway, I noticed this guy wheeling a keg out the back door. After he rounded the corner, I wandered over and VOILA - just opened the back door to the gymnasium floor. I walked in with some degree of authority. 3 guys were standing by the door and I heard one of them say "Can I see your ticket please?" At first, I thought I was screwed. Then I turned my head and they were all chuckling. I talked to them for a bit and they applauded my sneak-in. This makes me recollect about all the other sneak-ins. Indeed, there are many. I'll review some of the highlight sneak-ins from my illustrious career.
Perhaps the all-time greatest was the fence crash at the Deer Creek Dead show in 1995. This one made the national news since they were launching canisters of tear gas at the hill side. They had to call in the entire Indy police force to quell this mini-riot. I was sitting outside, minding my own business, when I saw a few fence crashers make the move. Rather than get trampled in the rush, you just had to join in. For some reason, I threw my cooler of Keystone Light over my head and started running with the crowd. Then, I had second thoughts. What had I done? I hastily turned back, ran against the crowd and retreived the precious cooler of beer. This was about as close as I'll ever get to running with the bulls in Pampalona. Up the hill and into the show. Keystone Light never tasted so good. A great trivia question is, during what song did the fence crash occur - the answer is Desolation Row (late in the first set). Kind of odd, since it's a pretty low-energy tune.
I also snuck into a Pink Floyd show at the Horseshoe in Columbus with Wendy Wagner and Lisa Carpenter. This was a good one as we bided our time and then watched this old guy leave his security post by one of the cargo entrances. We all just waltzed into that one. Great show but the crowd was lifeless. I used to think it was just the OSU fans who can't make noise but now I tend to think it's something about the entire city of Columbutt.
Another good sneak in was a SLAYER show a couple years ago at the Belle Vernon Arena which is actually an ice skating rink. Me, Jepsonian and Marklar snuck in the back. I looked at the people in charge of the concession stands and said "God damn, it's cold out there." The best thing to do is have a line ready to go. Something simple along the lines of "Alright, let's do it" or "OOOHHH, we're gonna have a good time tonight". Just anything straight-forward or easy to respond to. It sets a good tone.
One time at a crappy Rusted Root New Years show at the Pittsburgh Civic Arena, I was escorted out for illegally being on the floor. I tried to explain to the security that I was being punished enough for having to spend New Years with Rusted Soot, but he wasn't buying it. Then, I did a loop around the arena and slid in by the smoking area right outside Gate A. I wouldn't recommend this mode of entry. If the lone security guy had seen me, I might have been taken down on the concrete. And for what, to ring in the New Year with Rusted Shit.
Another sneak in, was the Kiss show at the Wheeling Civic Center. This one was pretty funny. Me and Danno are sitting at Nail City and devising a plan for the sneak-in. I'm like, follow me. We just walked up on the concourse. I forget if I had given up smoking by then - I'm pretty sure I had. Anyway, we just joined in with all the smokers and I held the door for everyone. I think I used the line - "Yeahhh, get on in here. Time to continue rocking" or something to that effect.
I'm not even going to bother with the countless hippie shows and taped wrist bands, although my favorite is the Masontown Sunday sneak-ins - works great every year for the Sunday DSO show. Just offer one of the hippies a bag of Munchos for his wristband and they'll think you're a God. Not even a real bag. The lunch sized ones with 12 Munchos will suffice.
I'm not going to discuss the numerous fake limo Starlake side entrance sneak-ins either. Not really worthy of discussion because of the lack of creativity. PEACE
What really made the night a special one was my mode of entry into the Palumbo Center. I absolutely refused to pay 40 bucks for a ticket to see this crapulence. I looked for a 20 dollar ticket outside the entrance but there were far too many hippies and miracle seekers. These days it's nearly impossible for me to compete with the hordes of Mother Shabooboos and miscellaneous dreaded fucks. I am viewed with slightly less venom than campus security.
Anyway, I noticed this guy wheeling a keg out the back door. After he rounded the corner, I wandered over and VOILA - just opened the back door to the gymnasium floor. I walked in with some degree of authority. 3 guys were standing by the door and I heard one of them say "Can I see your ticket please?" At first, I thought I was screwed. Then I turned my head and they were all chuckling. I talked to them for a bit and they applauded my sneak-in. This makes me recollect about all the other sneak-ins. Indeed, there are many. I'll review some of the highlight sneak-ins from my illustrious career.
Perhaps the all-time greatest was the fence crash at the Deer Creek Dead show in 1995. This one made the national news since they were launching canisters of tear gas at the hill side. They had to call in the entire Indy police force to quell this mini-riot. I was sitting outside, minding my own business, when I saw a few fence crashers make the move. Rather than get trampled in the rush, you just had to join in. For some reason, I threw my cooler of Keystone Light over my head and started running with the crowd. Then, I had second thoughts. What had I done? I hastily turned back, ran against the crowd and retreived the precious cooler of beer. This was about as close as I'll ever get to running with the bulls in Pampalona. Up the hill and into the show. Keystone Light never tasted so good. A great trivia question is, during what song did the fence crash occur - the answer is Desolation Row (late in the first set). Kind of odd, since it's a pretty low-energy tune.
I also snuck into a Pink Floyd show at the Horseshoe in Columbus with Wendy Wagner and Lisa Carpenter. This was a good one as we bided our time and then watched this old guy leave his security post by one of the cargo entrances. We all just waltzed into that one. Great show but the crowd was lifeless. I used to think it was just the OSU fans who can't make noise but now I tend to think it's something about the entire city of Columbutt.
Another good sneak in was a SLAYER show a couple years ago at the Belle Vernon Arena which is actually an ice skating rink. Me, Jepsonian and Marklar snuck in the back. I looked at the people in charge of the concession stands and said "God damn, it's cold out there." The best thing to do is have a line ready to go. Something simple along the lines of "Alright, let's do it" or "OOOHHH, we're gonna have a good time tonight". Just anything straight-forward or easy to respond to. It sets a good tone.
One time at a crappy Rusted Root New Years show at the Pittsburgh Civic Arena, I was escorted out for illegally being on the floor. I tried to explain to the security that I was being punished enough for having to spend New Years with Rusted Soot, but he wasn't buying it. Then, I did a loop around the arena and slid in by the smoking area right outside Gate A. I wouldn't recommend this mode of entry. If the lone security guy had seen me, I might have been taken down on the concrete. And for what, to ring in the New Year with Rusted Shit.
Another sneak in, was the Kiss show at the Wheeling Civic Center. This one was pretty funny. Me and Danno are sitting at Nail City and devising a plan for the sneak-in. I'm like, follow me. We just walked up on the concourse. I forget if I had given up smoking by then - I'm pretty sure I had. Anyway, we just joined in with all the smokers and I held the door for everyone. I think I used the line - "Yeahhh, get on in here. Time to continue rocking" or something to that effect.
I'm not even going to bother with the countless hippie shows and taped wrist bands, although my favorite is the Masontown Sunday sneak-ins - works great every year for the Sunday DSO show. Just offer one of the hippies a bag of Munchos for his wristband and they'll think you're a God. Not even a real bag. The lunch sized ones with 12 Munchos will suffice.
I'm not going to discuss the numerous fake limo Starlake side entrance sneak-ins either. Not really worthy of discussion because of the lack of creativity. PEACE
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Heinz Field Stadium food
Lately I've become quite familiar with the cuisine options at Heinz Field. I'm not going to discuss any of the options on levels 200 through 400. Let's just concentrate on the first and fifth and sixth tiers where the commoners hang out. Upon entering the main entrance of Heinz Field, you'll encounter the Steel Pit. This is where I usually hang for the games. I actually like hanging in the end zone for several reasons. First and foremost, you can watch the game on the giant widescreen at the South end of the stadium. For a brief time, this was the largest television on the planet earth. Then, Gillette Stadium got the exact same one and others have also popped up. Pro games usually lend themselves to viewing on tv since so many plays get reviewed. There's a great atmosphere down in the pit. Everyone is standing and milling about so the scenery is constantly changing. There seems to be bit more rowdiness and heightened level of intoxication as well. Plus, when you turn around and face the field, you really get a rush from the roar of the crowd. Another nice touch is that you're right near the exit in case you want to make a hasty getaway. This is entirely irrelevant because my crew is always the last to leave the parking lot. And I do the mean the absolute last. There's also a "hidden" restroom when you walk in. It's just past the escalators on the left side. Nobody uses it because few people see it on the way to their seats. There's almost no lines whatsoever. I highly recommend it for urination as opposed to the top of the steps at Starlake.
Basically, there are 2 good options in the Great Hall of Heinz Field. There's a Benkovitz Seafood place and a scaled down version of Primanti Brothers. I find it disconcerting that people would order a fish sandwich when it's freezing cold. Fish needs to be served hot, or at the very least, warm. Cold fish just doesn't cut it, unless it's peel and eat shrimp. This Primanti's only offers cheesesteaks and turkey sandwiches. This is the best option. They sell for only six bucks a sandwich. That's remarkably cheap considering I could buy a super dog for 4 bucks and it doesn't even fill you up. With the sandwich, you definitely get more of a meal. My only complaint is that they should offer corned beef. I guess the fewer options, the better. The last thing you want is to give people too many options when time is of the essence. The other problem with Primanti's is that they only offer IC Light. If you want a Rolling rock or some other beer, you'll have to get into another line. I'll usually just go for the Iron City even though I'm not a big fan.
As for ordering from the general concession stands, your options are typically mundane. Hot dogs, nachos, chips, cotton candy (truly the cry of the damned) - all these things suck. I'll never understand why people gravitate toward hot dog consumption at sporting events. Did the hot dog suddenly become more palatable or are the people just too drunk and don't realize that hot dogs are consumed by idiots? Where do you think the term "hot diggity" comes from? And most vexing is the hike in the price per dog - at a grocery store, each dog is 12 cents and at the game it skyrockets to $4.00.
So there you have it. If you're hungry at a Steelers game, go with the obvious choice - Primanti Brothers cheesesteak. Or better yet, bring your own food and stuff your face in the parking lot.
Basically, there are 2 good options in the Great Hall of Heinz Field. There's a Benkovitz Seafood place and a scaled down version of Primanti Brothers. I find it disconcerting that people would order a fish sandwich when it's freezing cold. Fish needs to be served hot, or at the very least, warm. Cold fish just doesn't cut it, unless it's peel and eat shrimp. This Primanti's only offers cheesesteaks and turkey sandwiches. This is the best option. They sell for only six bucks a sandwich. That's remarkably cheap considering I could buy a super dog for 4 bucks and it doesn't even fill you up. With the sandwich, you definitely get more of a meal. My only complaint is that they should offer corned beef. I guess the fewer options, the better. The last thing you want is to give people too many options when time is of the essence. The other problem with Primanti's is that they only offer IC Light. If you want a Rolling rock or some other beer, you'll have to get into another line. I'll usually just go for the Iron City even though I'm not a big fan.
As for ordering from the general concession stands, your options are typically mundane. Hot dogs, nachos, chips, cotton candy (truly the cry of the damned) - all these things suck. I'll never understand why people gravitate toward hot dog consumption at sporting events. Did the hot dog suddenly become more palatable or are the people just too drunk and don't realize that hot dogs are consumed by idiots? Where do you think the term "hot diggity" comes from? And most vexing is the hike in the price per dog - at a grocery store, each dog is 12 cents and at the game it skyrockets to $4.00.
So there you have it. If you're hungry at a Steelers game, go with the obvious choice - Primanti Brothers cheesesteak. Or better yet, bring your own food and stuff your face in the parking lot.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Burger King drive-thru
Has anyone ventured into the Burger King drive-thru on Wheeling Island? As if Burger King wasn't already a poor choice. There are multiple entrances yet it's very tricky to navigate. One of the entrances is a back alley underneath an I-70 overpass. If you can manage to avoid the passed out bum and his bottle of grape Mad Dog, that's one option. The other way in is through the 2 separate parking lots. Just be careful to avoid the multiple cement car stop things. If you make it to the mechanical take-your-order gismo, that's half the battle. Then you've got to scream your order over the roar of the 18 wheelers directly above your head on I-70. Alright, you've managed to order that disgusting new breakfast sandwich which consists of 2 eggs, a slab of ham, 12 strips of bacon, 2 sausage patties and multiple slices of the orangest American cheese you've ever seen. By the way, isn't that child abuse? Selling that crap within 1000 ft. of an elementary school. Alright, you make it to the window, and lo and behold, the B.K. worker is that weird transvestite man-king from the commercials. Feasibly, that could be another violation - transsexual man-king mascot within a 1000 ft. of a school. Perhaps some Wheeling Island regicide is in order. Alright, you've got your breakfast sandwich and now you're leaving the lot. Danger awaits. One of the tightest turns in all of West Virginia is approaching. This shit is like a Formula One track and I'm Michael Jewmacher. If you drive anything larger than a Miata, you're fucked. The entire curb is covered with scrapes, but fortunately, they've put up these plastic/rubberized poles to help you make your way through. I'm not exactly sure what the poles are there for. Perhaps sodomization. I do not know.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
the demise of box of wine
For many years, I have been a strong proponent of the box of wine. I've always gotten the Cabernet Sauvignon box of Franzia. I like to refer to it as "CAB SAV BOX BLAH". The wine itself is mediocre but more importantly, it's convenient and efficient. The box of wine is a tradition that harkens back to the early Village days. The box of wine movement was originally encouraged by Ken D. That's just some irrelevant trivia.
Today, I have decided to close the door on this chapter. No more boxes of wine, only bottles. I have started my very own wine cellar. In all honestly, it's not really a wine cellar but more of a wine closet. I just line the bottles on this shelf-contraption. I'm focusing on bottles priced in the $7.00 - $12.00 range. I'm a big fan of Glen Ellen. I think they're the best of the mid-range winemakers.
On a slightly unrelated topic, anyone who drinks white zinfandel is a complete fucking idiot. Why would anyone drink this shit? I guess it might be acceptable at a Britney Spears/Russell Nesbitt sorority reunion, but that's about it. I'm seriously contemplating this idea where I make stickers that read, "If you like this product, you're a complete fucking idiot". Then, you discreetly put the stickers on all bottles of white zinf. I'd probably hit CVS and Rite Aid and then finish it off with a Kroger encore.
Today, I have decided to close the door on this chapter. No more boxes of wine, only bottles. I have started my very own wine cellar. In all honestly, it's not really a wine cellar but more of a wine closet. I just line the bottles on this shelf-contraption. I'm focusing on bottles priced in the $7.00 - $12.00 range. I'm a big fan of Glen Ellen. I think they're the best of the mid-range winemakers.
On a slightly unrelated topic, anyone who drinks white zinfandel is a complete fucking idiot. Why would anyone drink this shit? I guess it might be acceptable at a Britney Spears/Russell Nesbitt sorority reunion, but that's about it. I'm seriously contemplating this idea where I make stickers that read, "If you like this product, you're a complete fucking idiot". Then, you discreetly put the stickers on all bottles of white zinf. I'd probably hit CVS and Rite Aid and then finish it off with a Kroger encore.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Washington Ave. Coffee Shop
I have been getting coffee at this place for approximately 2 years. It's part of my routine. I wake up, drive to Wheeling Jesuit and snag 2 newspapers (Wheeling Intelligencer and USA Today), then hit the coffee shop. It's a simple, pleasant loop. By the way, someone should bitch to the Whg. Jesuit student life people or the Father Acker man or whoever is in charge of the free newspapers. They don't offer the NY Times anymore. Would it be asking too much for them to renew their subscription? Perhaps I'll handle it through one of those anonymous complaint/suggestion boxes.
Anyway, the Wheeling Coffee Shop has become ingrained in my soul. I always get a cup of coffee. It costs $1.17 and I give the person $1.25. They get to keep the whopping 8 cents. Every once in awhile, I give them 2 singles so that's a little better - .83 cents. Still, it's nothing to write home about.
I don't know what frappacino or latte surprise is and personally, I think it's kind of embarrassing to order these "diva" drinks. So I just focus on a straightforward cup of Joe. I'm not sure who Joe is or why he became identified with the coffee movement during WW II. Regardless, Joe is very improtant.
They're worst coffees are Seattle Blend, French Roast and Italian Roast. The best of the dark coffees are Guatamalan, Brazilian, Mexican and Costa Rican. I guess the South Americans just make better coffee. That Seattle shit is disgusting and the Italian Roast tastes like they infused it with burnt lasagna and asphalt.
They also offer the flavored coffees like Chocolate Truffle or Sugar Cookie or Macaroon Mint. They have tons of these varities and they all suck. Maybe if I coached a male synchronized swim team, these flavors would be more enticing. But I don't.
Anyway, the Wheeling Coffee Shop has become ingrained in my soul. I always get a cup of coffee. It costs $1.17 and I give the person $1.25. They get to keep the whopping 8 cents. Every once in awhile, I give them 2 singles so that's a little better - .83 cents. Still, it's nothing to write home about.
I don't know what frappacino or latte surprise is and personally, I think it's kind of embarrassing to order these "diva" drinks. So I just focus on a straightforward cup of Joe. I'm not sure who Joe is or why he became identified with the coffee movement during WW II. Regardless, Joe is very improtant.
They're worst coffees are Seattle Blend, French Roast and Italian Roast. The best of the dark coffees are Guatamalan, Brazilian, Mexican and Costa Rican. I guess the South Americans just make better coffee. That Seattle shit is disgusting and the Italian Roast tastes like they infused it with burnt lasagna and asphalt.
They also offer the flavored coffees like Chocolate Truffle or Sugar Cookie or Macaroon Mint. They have tons of these varities and they all suck. Maybe if I coached a male synchronized swim team, these flavors would be more enticing. But I don't.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Metropolitan Grill RETRACTION
A while back I wrote a very complimentary review about this new restaurant in town, The Met Grill. I've returned on 3 occassions and all 3 times this place absolutely SUCKED for a variety of reasons. It took some time but I have learned my lesson and will not be returning. Alright, here comes the onslaught. If you are sensitive to profanity I suggest closing this window immediately.
The first time I went with Amanda, the service and the food were decent. The second time, I invited my friend B.J. Even though there were a few open tables, they sat us in the back corner. Regrettably, no one decided to wait on us. We probably waited for 20 minutes before someone came over and offered to get us a beverage. Our server (I won't use female or male tags becuase there are only 3 servers) explained that they were a little confused because they were "short-staffed" and didn't know whose section we were in. So rather than saying anything at all, they just ignored us. This wasn't that big of a deal as I hadn't seen B.J. in some time and it was good to catch up. Anyway, the server finally came and took our orders and eventually we got our food which was ok. I had the portablla chicken hoagie and she had a turkey melt. Her sandwich was fair and mine was good. Despite the lunch running over it wasn't entirely bad.
The second time I went, I met G Max the day after the Stones show at PNC. Much to my surprise, a woman we all know and love (J.A.D.) sat next to us along with a couple of her co-workers. G Max arrived and ordered a steak salad and I had the prime rib sandwich and a side salad. G Max's food came and then mine arrived about 8 minutes later. Unfortunately, when it did arrive, there was no salad. Instead I received fries. This apparently would become a common theme - the dictatorial power of the servers over their customers. I thought about complaining but opted not to. Most likely because I might have to wait 15 more minutes to get the side salad. I also was afraid the server would get flustered and decide that he/she had to sit down at the table and eat the fries one by one. By the way, their fries aren't that great - odd that they would impose their will with regard to mandatory fries. Maybe they should call them freedom fries and go for the ironic twist. Anyway, G Max's salad was fair and my prime rib sandwich was slightly above average. I did order a coke to drink and it was exceptional. By the way, I neglected to mention that none of the servers have ever come by and ask how everything is. They just assume that things are ok. Or even worse yet, they're afraid that something might be poor and they'll have to deal with it. All in all, it wasn't a horrbible meal. Just more poor service and fair food.
Alright! Yesterday, Heather and I ate there. This was the final straw. I got there at 11:57 and was immediately greeted by our server. He asked if he could get me anything and I said a water with lemon. Within 2 minutes, I'm drinking my water. Heather arrives at 12:03. We would sit and wait for the next 30 minutes with absolutely no contact from anyone. I'm not kidding - 30 fucking minutes. We just sat there in disbelief. Heather wanted to call over the stoic hostess but I urged her not to. I was convinced that things would resolve themselves. I was entirely mistaken. All of a sudden, there's some mini-commotion outside the restaurant. I man comes in and asks for a chair and rushes back outside. Then I watch our server head to the front door. This was the first time we saw him since I got my water - about 32 minutes ago. He comes back in and is helping move this old black lady whose knees are bandaged up. This woman could hardly move - I suspect she had blood clots. Anyway, they sit her down in front of the whole restaurant and get her a glass of water. She was in really bad shape. I thought to myself, maybe if I had a seizure, I could get the attention of somebody and we could at least order the meal and/or Heather could get something to drink. Then the ambulance comes and they wheel her out right in front of us. After another 5 minutes, I signal to the hostess that we're ready to order. The hostess isn't even remotely apologetic or concerned. Strange, because she's been standing next to our inactive table for over half an hour. Anyway, Heather requests a water (from the hostess) and she says that our server will be right with us. 2 minutes later, he appears. Staying consistent, he doesn't even remotely apologize for the wait. He just looks at us with this oafish daze and asks, "So, are you ready to order?" We're exasperated but manage to place the order. Heather got a pizza and I got a chicken portabella hoagie with a side salad. He asks, "What kind of dressing would you like?" and I respond with the balsamic viniagrette. Now, another lengthy wait is ahead of us. I'd say it was another 27 minutes before we got our food. But here's the deal, we really didn't get our food. Heather is agitated becuase she sees her pizza just sitting on the ledge. He comes back over and says it will be a few more minutes. I actually contemplate just getting up and leaving. This is unheard of because I'm never one to complain about poor service, but this was getting ridiculous. In fact, it was so bad it became borderline amusing. Anyway, he brings over the food and, lo and behold, I get the sandwich, but once again, it has fries. I'm blown away that this same incident repeated itself. I politely mention that I ordered a side salad not fries, and he says, "Oh yeah, it comes with fries. Your side salad will be right out." Then, he disappears. I want to look at him and say, "You must think I'm a complete idiot." I figure, oh well, maybe I'll just get the salad to go at the end of the meal and eat it later. Heather mentions that she got her side salad at the end of the meal on a different occassion. I wonder, what the fuck is wrong with this place. I'm pretty hungry, so I'm just like fuck it and start to eat. Heather's pizza is room temperature because it sat on the ledge so long. I seriously doubt I'll even get the salad. Anyway, we scarf down the food (it's about 1:17pm). Our waiter isn't really interested in us. He never shows up to see how things are (the only thing that seems to be consistent with this place - a refusal of the wait staff to function as real waiters). We have to ask the hostess (who incidentally smiles about as much as Mr. Burns on The Simpsons) for a box. She did however refill our water glasses without us asking - a task well outside her specifically assigned duties.
Our waiter finally returns with the check and dorkilly asks, "So, how was everything?" He won't even acknowledge the salad fiasco. I imagine he thought that if he played dumb, I wouldn't remember the nonexistent salad. I look at him and I say, "Honestly" - he replies, "Oh yeah, you can tell me." Before I could get a word out, Heather says, "My pizza was cold." He says, "Oh, I'm sorry, I'll take care of it" and bolts off into the distance. Heather feels awkward about complaining and decides to exit before he returns. He comes back with a check for $5.30. That was the cost of my incorrect meal. He did eliminate the cost of the pizza altogether which was pretty cool, I guess. To be honest, I was surprised he took any action. Anyway, I crumpled two five dollar bills and stuffed them in the bill jacket. I figured that even though the service was atrocious and the order was wrong and the pizza was cold, at least it was entertaining. But then again, a suicide bomber in Gaza could also be deemed entertaining - it just depends on your perspective.
I still think the food is pretty good but the service at this place is so bad, it cannot be overlooked. They just seem to have this deliberate disregard for the customers.
This is important to note - J.B. works at this place behind the bar. He has NEVER waited on us. I don't want anyone reading this to think that he's the waiter I'm referring to. To be blunt, he might be the only one in the entire place who does give a damn.
The first time I went with Amanda, the service and the food were decent. The second time, I invited my friend B.J. Even though there were a few open tables, they sat us in the back corner. Regrettably, no one decided to wait on us. We probably waited for 20 minutes before someone came over and offered to get us a beverage. Our server (I won't use female or male tags becuase there are only 3 servers) explained that they were a little confused because they were "short-staffed" and didn't know whose section we were in. So rather than saying anything at all, they just ignored us. This wasn't that big of a deal as I hadn't seen B.J. in some time and it was good to catch up. Anyway, the server finally came and took our orders and eventually we got our food which was ok. I had the portablla chicken hoagie and she had a turkey melt. Her sandwich was fair and mine was good. Despite the lunch running over it wasn't entirely bad.
The second time I went, I met G Max the day after the Stones show at PNC. Much to my surprise, a woman we all know and love (J.A.D.) sat next to us along with a couple of her co-workers. G Max arrived and ordered a steak salad and I had the prime rib sandwich and a side salad. G Max's food came and then mine arrived about 8 minutes later. Unfortunately, when it did arrive, there was no salad. Instead I received fries. This apparently would become a common theme - the dictatorial power of the servers over their customers. I thought about complaining but opted not to. Most likely because I might have to wait 15 more minutes to get the side salad. I also was afraid the server would get flustered and decide that he/she had to sit down at the table and eat the fries one by one. By the way, their fries aren't that great - odd that they would impose their will with regard to mandatory fries. Maybe they should call them freedom fries and go for the ironic twist. Anyway, G Max's salad was fair and my prime rib sandwich was slightly above average. I did order a coke to drink and it was exceptional. By the way, I neglected to mention that none of the servers have ever come by and ask how everything is. They just assume that things are ok. Or even worse yet, they're afraid that something might be poor and they'll have to deal with it. All in all, it wasn't a horrbible meal. Just more poor service and fair food.
Alright! Yesterday, Heather and I ate there. This was the final straw. I got there at 11:57 and was immediately greeted by our server. He asked if he could get me anything and I said a water with lemon. Within 2 minutes, I'm drinking my water. Heather arrives at 12:03. We would sit and wait for the next 30 minutes with absolutely no contact from anyone. I'm not kidding - 30 fucking minutes. We just sat there in disbelief. Heather wanted to call over the stoic hostess but I urged her not to. I was convinced that things would resolve themselves. I was entirely mistaken. All of a sudden, there's some mini-commotion outside the restaurant. I man comes in and asks for a chair and rushes back outside. Then I watch our server head to the front door. This was the first time we saw him since I got my water - about 32 minutes ago. He comes back in and is helping move this old black lady whose knees are bandaged up. This woman could hardly move - I suspect she had blood clots. Anyway, they sit her down in front of the whole restaurant and get her a glass of water. She was in really bad shape. I thought to myself, maybe if I had a seizure, I could get the attention of somebody and we could at least order the meal and/or Heather could get something to drink. Then the ambulance comes and they wheel her out right in front of us. After another 5 minutes, I signal to the hostess that we're ready to order. The hostess isn't even remotely apologetic or concerned. Strange, because she's been standing next to our inactive table for over half an hour. Anyway, Heather requests a water (from the hostess) and she says that our server will be right with us. 2 minutes later, he appears. Staying consistent, he doesn't even remotely apologize for the wait. He just looks at us with this oafish daze and asks, "So, are you ready to order?" We're exasperated but manage to place the order. Heather got a pizza and I got a chicken portabella hoagie with a side salad. He asks, "What kind of dressing would you like?" and I respond with the balsamic viniagrette. Now, another lengthy wait is ahead of us. I'd say it was another 27 minutes before we got our food. But here's the deal, we really didn't get our food. Heather is agitated becuase she sees her pizza just sitting on the ledge. He comes back over and says it will be a few more minutes. I actually contemplate just getting up and leaving. This is unheard of because I'm never one to complain about poor service, but this was getting ridiculous. In fact, it was so bad it became borderline amusing. Anyway, he brings over the food and, lo and behold, I get the sandwich, but once again, it has fries. I'm blown away that this same incident repeated itself. I politely mention that I ordered a side salad not fries, and he says, "Oh yeah, it comes with fries. Your side salad will be right out." Then, he disappears. I want to look at him and say, "You must think I'm a complete idiot." I figure, oh well, maybe I'll just get the salad to go at the end of the meal and eat it later. Heather mentions that she got her side salad at the end of the meal on a different occassion. I wonder, what the fuck is wrong with this place. I'm pretty hungry, so I'm just like fuck it and start to eat. Heather's pizza is room temperature because it sat on the ledge so long. I seriously doubt I'll even get the salad. Anyway, we scarf down the food (it's about 1:17pm). Our waiter isn't really interested in us. He never shows up to see how things are (the only thing that seems to be consistent with this place - a refusal of the wait staff to function as real waiters). We have to ask the hostess (who incidentally smiles about as much as Mr. Burns on The Simpsons) for a box. She did however refill our water glasses without us asking - a task well outside her specifically assigned duties.
Our waiter finally returns with the check and dorkilly asks, "So, how was everything?" He won't even acknowledge the salad fiasco. I imagine he thought that if he played dumb, I wouldn't remember the nonexistent salad. I look at him and I say, "Honestly" - he replies, "Oh yeah, you can tell me." Before I could get a word out, Heather says, "My pizza was cold." He says, "Oh, I'm sorry, I'll take care of it" and bolts off into the distance. Heather feels awkward about complaining and decides to exit before he returns. He comes back with a check for $5.30. That was the cost of my incorrect meal. He did eliminate the cost of the pizza altogether which was pretty cool, I guess. To be honest, I was surprised he took any action. Anyway, I crumpled two five dollar bills and stuffed them in the bill jacket. I figured that even though the service was atrocious and the order was wrong and the pizza was cold, at least it was entertaining. But then again, a suicide bomber in Gaza could also be deemed entertaining - it just depends on your perspective.
I still think the food is pretty good but the service at this place is so bad, it cannot be overlooked. They just seem to have this deliberate disregard for the customers.
This is important to note - J.B. works at this place behind the bar. He has NEVER waited on us. I don't want anyone reading this to think that he's the waiter I'm referring to. To be blunt, he might be the only one in the entire place who does give a damn.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Stones/Pearl Jam - PNC Park
I drove 4 of the "regulars" to the Rolling Stones/Pearl Jam show last night. Obviously, this was a BIG one. I take that back. It was THE BIG ONE. I snagged them early but they opted for drinks in Robinson township before the show. I was a little worried but we got basicaly got there at crunch time. Everybody had already parked so the ride in was surprisingly effortless. I dropped them off and then parked the limo about 3/4 mile in the distance. I booked down to the stadium and briefly hooked up with Josh, Jess, Fuzz and G Max. The band had just started with the song "GO". There were plenty of extra tix, as expected. I asked a few people - one woman was adamant that she wanted $400. I replied, "C'mon let's go $20." She was not amused. I ran into my scalping buddy Brian and he set me up with a single from one of his other scalper buddies. Boom! 20 bucks! I think he did it more as a favor. I always set him up with food/water/beer at Starlake. This has to have been a first - with droves of extra tix in the parking lot, I bought mine from a black guy. Ironic.
Anyway, G Max and I went to the lower level directly opposite the stage. Good view, good seats. Since this is primarily a restaurant review column, I'll refer to the quality of seats we had in terms of chain restaurants. These lower level seats were probably $125 or so. I'd call them Outback Steakhouse seats. Anyway, Pearl Jam rocked as they always do. They played a sugarcoated set that lasted exactly 1 hour 7 minutes. They tended to play mostly their video hits, most of which I don't really care for (Black, Jeremy, Animal, Better Man). My favorite tunes were Alive and Corduroy. But I think they wanted to keep things a little familiar since most people were there for the Stones. Pearl Jam had a pretty big turnout of fans as well - pockets of them all over the ballpark. I'd say it was about 72% Stones/28% Pearl Jam. Needless to say, they closed with Rockin in the Free World which got everybody up. I think most of the older Stones fans began to realize just how much these guys rock.
Anyway, me and G Max went to see where the others seats were - Section 301. I made it up there and was in disbelief - I told them that these were the worst seats in the entire place. You couldn't see any portion of the big screen. Then, I softened my stance because there was about 12 rows behind them. So they were in the 12th worst row of the entire stadium. Not the place you want to be for the BIG one. Josh seemed to come around. The others opted to stay behind - comparable to riding out Hurricane Rita. Oh, I forgot - These seats were Elby's (I'm talking a vacant one 4 years after they went out of business). Anyway, I pointed to some good chunks of seats down below. Josh said he was going to make the move. Oddly enough, after having ridiculed the seats, I was like, cool let's roll - then, I started walking further up to the even shittier seats. Josh amusingly beckoned me and I quickly turned around. I think I was still in a daze from the opening act.
Anyway, we make it down to the first level about 20 rows up. Back to the good seats - let's call them Olive Garden. We sat around for awhile and strategized about how to get on the floor. They were checking tix very carefully. We were hoping for a surge but none was in sight. G Max went to about the 7th row off the floor. This would become the staging area - let's say Cheesecake Factory. We had a variety of ideas about how to get down. I suggested the double beer approach - just have your hands full and nod and say "It's cool, we're over there." That idea was dismissed - probably because that second large draft would have gotten pretty warm. Then, I offered the "Let's just discreetly hand him a five dollar bill approach." This one never even got off the ground. I think we were both hoping for a surge when the lights went out. Crunch time was approaching. Then, I noticed that a few people weren't showing their tix, just their hand stamp. I carefully examined the hand stamp of a floor goer. It was a simple light green circle. I started asking if anyone had a marker or a pen. The girl next to me offered an ink pen and a black sharpie. Which one should we go with? This was a tough one. G Max opted for the pen and I agreed. I adorned his hand with a circle and he went for the smear approach. Good move, G Max. Then, the lights went out. I quickly did mine and handed the pen back to the girl. I think she thought we were nuts. The girl behind us thought it was crazy we were from West Virginia. She laughed uncontrollably about the usual themes - incest, trailors, blah. Then I told her that 2 days ago, there was a man arrested in nearby Lafferty, Ohio for having sex with a neighbor's dog. This was on the FRONT PAGE. That really sent her into hysterics.
Anyway, I looked at G max and I was like it's now or never. Let's Roll. He said, ok, lead the way. I was like, fuck it Wolfman Bezerker style. We both zipped down the steps and showed the guy our temporary tattoos. BOOM! On the floor. Not even the slightest problem. We briefly celebrated and made our way to the back of the floor. We found a partially open section that was near perfect. These were probably the $250 seats. I'd say they were The Biltmore. For those of you who don't know, that's a wicked, upscale restaurant/resort in Scottsdale, AZ. We watched about 6 tunes and then went to take a piss. In the shuffle, I lost G max. Regrettably, I planned to leave aorund the 12th tune or so and make my trek back to the limo. I decided to look for Josh, just in case he was back at the Cheesecake Factory. Sure enough, there he was. I told him how we got on the floor and he was amused and eager. I found the same girl with the pen and we marked him up. I'm like, just follow me to the promised land, much like Moses leading the Israelites. Once again, smooth sailing. We went back to the Biltmore but G Max was nowhere in sight. I'd later learn that he made his way to the front area through a slight hole in the fence. Stuck around for 2 more songs and then had to bolt. I grudgingly left and snagged the limo. There must have been about 140 limos all jockeying for position. I'd never seen that many in my life. And there were still more parked up from the stadium. I picked up the crew at the home plate club with perfect timing and we made it through the mess of jubilant fans in 10 minutes. Outta there - West End, 279 South, 79 South, 70 West. Home in an hour. Then, the limo malfunctioned in Woodsdale, but that's a whole different story and this blogger is exhausted. PEACE
Other rankings (scale of 1-100):
Scalping - didn't have the time.
Parking - controlled chaos. These idiot parking attendants are still on strike. Kind of like the George Costanza line - "THESE PRETZELS ARE MAKING ME THIRSTY!"
Stones - sounded great for a bunch of 60 years olds. Let's give them an 88.
Pearl Jam - I'm biased. The best opener of the tour. My favorite touring rock band. Even though they played a pretty boring short set. Sounded great though - 93.
Tailgating - didn't have the time and it's irrelevant because I'm the designated driver.
The Stage show - The clear winner. 99 - I've never seen anything like it and I've seen a few stadium shows in my time.
To sum it up:
This show made me realize that you can always get what you want.
Anyway, G Max and I went to the lower level directly opposite the stage. Good view, good seats. Since this is primarily a restaurant review column, I'll refer to the quality of seats we had in terms of chain restaurants. These lower level seats were probably $125 or so. I'd call them Outback Steakhouse seats. Anyway, Pearl Jam rocked as they always do. They played a sugarcoated set that lasted exactly 1 hour 7 minutes. They tended to play mostly their video hits, most of which I don't really care for (Black, Jeremy, Animal, Better Man). My favorite tunes were Alive and Corduroy. But I think they wanted to keep things a little familiar since most people were there for the Stones. Pearl Jam had a pretty big turnout of fans as well - pockets of them all over the ballpark. I'd say it was about 72% Stones/28% Pearl Jam. Needless to say, they closed with Rockin in the Free World which got everybody up. I think most of the older Stones fans began to realize just how much these guys rock.
Anyway, me and G Max went to see where the others seats were - Section 301. I made it up there and was in disbelief - I told them that these were the worst seats in the entire place. You couldn't see any portion of the big screen. Then, I softened my stance because there was about 12 rows behind them. So they were in the 12th worst row of the entire stadium. Not the place you want to be for the BIG one. Josh seemed to come around. The others opted to stay behind - comparable to riding out Hurricane Rita. Oh, I forgot - These seats were Elby's (I'm talking a vacant one 4 years after they went out of business). Anyway, I pointed to some good chunks of seats down below. Josh said he was going to make the move. Oddly enough, after having ridiculed the seats, I was like, cool let's roll - then, I started walking further up to the even shittier seats. Josh amusingly beckoned me and I quickly turned around. I think I was still in a daze from the opening act.
Anyway, we make it down to the first level about 20 rows up. Back to the good seats - let's call them Olive Garden. We sat around for awhile and strategized about how to get on the floor. They were checking tix very carefully. We were hoping for a surge but none was in sight. G Max went to about the 7th row off the floor. This would become the staging area - let's say Cheesecake Factory. We had a variety of ideas about how to get down. I suggested the double beer approach - just have your hands full and nod and say "It's cool, we're over there." That idea was dismissed - probably because that second large draft would have gotten pretty warm. Then, I offered the "Let's just discreetly hand him a five dollar bill approach." This one never even got off the ground. I think we were both hoping for a surge when the lights went out. Crunch time was approaching. Then, I noticed that a few people weren't showing their tix, just their hand stamp. I carefully examined the hand stamp of a floor goer. It was a simple light green circle. I started asking if anyone had a marker or a pen. The girl next to me offered an ink pen and a black sharpie. Which one should we go with? This was a tough one. G Max opted for the pen and I agreed. I adorned his hand with a circle and he went for the smear approach. Good move, G Max. Then, the lights went out. I quickly did mine and handed the pen back to the girl. I think she thought we were nuts. The girl behind us thought it was crazy we were from West Virginia. She laughed uncontrollably about the usual themes - incest, trailors, blah. Then I told her that 2 days ago, there was a man arrested in nearby Lafferty, Ohio for having sex with a neighbor's dog. This was on the FRONT PAGE. That really sent her into hysterics.
Anyway, I looked at G max and I was like it's now or never. Let's Roll. He said, ok, lead the way. I was like, fuck it Wolfman Bezerker style. We both zipped down the steps and showed the guy our temporary tattoos. BOOM! On the floor. Not even the slightest problem. We briefly celebrated and made our way to the back of the floor. We found a partially open section that was near perfect. These were probably the $250 seats. I'd say they were The Biltmore. For those of you who don't know, that's a wicked, upscale restaurant/resort in Scottsdale, AZ. We watched about 6 tunes and then went to take a piss. In the shuffle, I lost G max. Regrettably, I planned to leave aorund the 12th tune or so and make my trek back to the limo. I decided to look for Josh, just in case he was back at the Cheesecake Factory. Sure enough, there he was. I told him how we got on the floor and he was amused and eager. I found the same girl with the pen and we marked him up. I'm like, just follow me to the promised land, much like Moses leading the Israelites. Once again, smooth sailing. We went back to the Biltmore but G Max was nowhere in sight. I'd later learn that he made his way to the front area through a slight hole in the fence. Stuck around for 2 more songs and then had to bolt. I grudgingly left and snagged the limo. There must have been about 140 limos all jockeying for position. I'd never seen that many in my life. And there were still more parked up from the stadium. I picked up the crew at the home plate club with perfect timing and we made it through the mess of jubilant fans in 10 minutes. Outta there - West End, 279 South, 79 South, 70 West. Home in an hour. Then, the limo malfunctioned in Woodsdale, but that's a whole different story and this blogger is exhausted. PEACE
Other rankings (scale of 1-100):
Scalping - didn't have the time.
Parking - controlled chaos. These idiot parking attendants are still on strike. Kind of like the George Costanza line - "THESE PRETZELS ARE MAKING ME THIRSTY!"
Stones - sounded great for a bunch of 60 years olds. Let's give them an 88.
Pearl Jam - I'm biased. The best opener of the tour. My favorite touring rock band. Even though they played a pretty boring short set. Sounded great though - 93.
Tailgating - didn't have the time and it's irrelevant because I'm the designated driver.
The Stage show - The clear winner. 99 - I've never seen anything like it and I've seen a few stadium shows in my time.
To sum it up:
This show made me realize that you can always get what you want.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Metropolitan Grill
Sometimes I take a little heat for the hostility expressed in this restaurant review blog. Random strangers approach me and say, "Saf, your reviews are caustic and biting." I swear, those are their exact words. Well, there is a new restaurant in town and it is the best establishment that Wheeling has ever seen. My only real complaint is that the entity known as Wheeling doesn't deserve a restaurant of this caliber. The only thing Wheeling deserves is extra ranch with their fuckin' wing dings. The words "fine dining" and "Wheeling" have never been compatible, UNTIL NOW.
Apparently, the head chef from the Wheeling Downs decided to open his own place. He remodeled the old Lanos Kraus Deli on Chapline and did a fantastic job. The set-up is spectacular. Once again, the only problem is that this place is too good for the Wheeling moronathons. They'll probably start picketing the place. Their demands - more bologna and olive loaf sandwich offerings. Extra ketchup, damnit!
Anyway, Amanda and I ate there yesterday. The place was packed but we got there early, so it wasn't an issue. Off in the corner was the President of the Lunchables and his crew. The President shirked his responsibilities so everyone had to sit all cramped together at the bar. Anyway, that's pretty much irrelevant.
The service and ambience were professional and exceptional. The food was fantastic. Finally, a house salad without a clump of iceberg that resembles the thing that brought down Titanic. Great house dressing too - just a simple balsamic viniagrette. Amanda had the shrimp pasta and I had this artichoke/salmon pasta concoction. Both were really strong. We also had an appetizer of stuffed banana peppers which were very potent. I could go on indefinitely about just how good this place is but I'd rather focus on the more pressing issue - Wheeling doesn't deserve this place. 82% of the people who live in this area are complete idiots. They embrace Perkins just like Sally Struthers used to care for those starving Ethiopian kids. They crave Bob Evans much in the same way that a Catholic priest craves young boys. Simply put, we as a people, aren't deserving of this place. We aren't good enough. Now that's a tough and unpopular stance, but I'm sticking with it. The Met Grill rocks and we suck. If this place goes out of business, I will weep uncontrollably and then I shall atone for the sins of Wheeling.
Apparently, the head chef from the Wheeling Downs decided to open his own place. He remodeled the old Lanos Kraus Deli on Chapline and did a fantastic job. The set-up is spectacular. Once again, the only problem is that this place is too good for the Wheeling moronathons. They'll probably start picketing the place. Their demands - more bologna and olive loaf sandwich offerings. Extra ketchup, damnit!
Anyway, Amanda and I ate there yesterday. The place was packed but we got there early, so it wasn't an issue. Off in the corner was the President of the Lunchables and his crew. The President shirked his responsibilities so everyone had to sit all cramped together at the bar. Anyway, that's pretty much irrelevant.
The service and ambience were professional and exceptional. The food was fantastic. Finally, a house salad without a clump of iceberg that resembles the thing that brought down Titanic. Great house dressing too - just a simple balsamic viniagrette. Amanda had the shrimp pasta and I had this artichoke/salmon pasta concoction. Both were really strong. We also had an appetizer of stuffed banana peppers which were very potent. I could go on indefinitely about just how good this place is but I'd rather focus on the more pressing issue - Wheeling doesn't deserve this place. 82% of the people who live in this area are complete idiots. They embrace Perkins just like Sally Struthers used to care for those starving Ethiopian kids. They crave Bob Evans much in the same way that a Catholic priest craves young boys. Simply put, we as a people, aren't deserving of this place. We aren't good enough. Now that's a tough and unpopular stance, but I'm sticking with it. The Met Grill rocks and we suck. If this place goes out of business, I will weep uncontrollably and then I shall atone for the sins of Wheeling.
Friday, September 16, 2005
"I'd Rather Go Back To Work"
These were the cries of Jenn D. as she departed the Sternwheeler Festival. G Max, the current tyrannical despot of The Lunchables, insisted we go to The Sternwheeler Fest for lunch today. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this Wheeling Festival, I'll try to hazard an explanation. Once a year about 20 boats dock in downtown Wheeling. In a feeble attempt to emulate Crockett from Miami Vice, these morons ride their boats down the Ohio River and set up shop in Wheeling. It is site of the former Wharf Parking Garage where they congregate and tell exciting tales of their journey. How they navigated the turbulent waters, the giant carp they caught last night, and the closest place to buy a case of cheap beer - these all become stories of yore. If you want, you can board their vessels. This can become a little dangerous. I mean really, you're knocking on their front door like a Jehovah's Witness, basically begging to come aboard and inspect their homes. You'd think these boat people would welcome you with open arms. Wrong. It's kind of like auditioning for American Idol and being ridiculed by that Simon dude, except the boat people are drunk and somewhat hostile. Their collective sneers are the one thing that seems to unite them.
But hey, this is really about the food. An allegiant throng of 4 people showed up for the first ever meeting of The Lunchables. G Max, Jenn D., Heather and myself showed up at a pre-determined meeting place. Everyone was punctual - at least one of my earlier sticking points was adhered to. We strolled through about 20 vendors. I bought a gyro from one of those carnie stands and Jenn D. & G Max got sausage sandwiches from Tambellinis. Heather got some kind of shells & cheese concoction. We settled down at a table where a lone retarded women was sitting on the end. This red-headed woman, you might refer to her as the red-headed retard, quickly departed. Incidentally, she was wearing an unflattering red t-shirt as well. She looked upon me with the same disdain I would later get from the gawking boat people - a look of just absolute, unbridled, unwavering disgust. Anyway, as G Max started to peel back the labia-like casing from his sausage sandwich, I looked at the women folk who seemed a bit distracted from the heat. Both Jenn and Heather seemed to enjoy their respective meals. G Max stammered, "Mmmmm" and then complained about the lack of water. My gyro was, well let's just call it the patron sandwich of mediocrity.
All in all, not a glowing review for the first ever meeting of The Lunchables. I say it's time to elect a new leader. One with a little more inspiration and vision, one who will lead us boldly, where no one has dined before. G Max was only concerned about one thing - dumping some Time Warner securities. Is this who we want to control our collective destiny? I say FUCK NO. The uprising will start early next week. By Wednesday, I should be back in control of the minions. Seriously, if were up to G Max, he'd have us eating Matzah (unleavened bread) as we flee Benwood. Well I may be a some kind atheist self-hating Jew, but he ain't no Pharoah and I will not bow down to him or any other self-annointed God.
The only highlight that comes to mind was the "free hand sanitizers" in the Port-a-Cleans. If it were up to G Max and his bean-counterism, he'd have imposed some kind of hand-washing tariff on the Port-o-Crappers.
I neglected to mention that Heather and G Max both purchased over-sized Italian Ices. If I recall, Heather got blackberry and G Max got Pina Colada.
So, let's break it down (scale of 1-100):
Sternwheeler Fest - SUCKED
Heather's heel - broke
Heather panites - nonexistent
G Max's leadership as President of The Lunchables - I think that has been adequately covered
Gyro - 62
Tambellinis - 88
Free water from Wheeling Hospital - Refreshing
Red-headed Retard - moronic but not entirely offensive, 38
Boat People - 12
Heather's shrill rendition of some Pat Benatar song - 72
The dumpster in front of her song and dance routine - STUNK
But hey, this is really about the food. An allegiant throng of 4 people showed up for the first ever meeting of The Lunchables. G Max, Jenn D., Heather and myself showed up at a pre-determined meeting place. Everyone was punctual - at least one of my earlier sticking points was adhered to. We strolled through about 20 vendors. I bought a gyro from one of those carnie stands and Jenn D. & G Max got sausage sandwiches from Tambellinis. Heather got some kind of shells & cheese concoction. We settled down at a table where a lone retarded women was sitting on the end. This red-headed woman, you might refer to her as the red-headed retard, quickly departed. Incidentally, she was wearing an unflattering red t-shirt as well. She looked upon me with the same disdain I would later get from the gawking boat people - a look of just absolute, unbridled, unwavering disgust. Anyway, as G Max started to peel back the labia-like casing from his sausage sandwich, I looked at the women folk who seemed a bit distracted from the heat. Both Jenn and Heather seemed to enjoy their respective meals. G Max stammered, "Mmmmm" and then complained about the lack of water. My gyro was, well let's just call it the patron sandwich of mediocrity.
All in all, not a glowing review for the first ever meeting of The Lunchables. I say it's time to elect a new leader. One with a little more inspiration and vision, one who will lead us boldly, where no one has dined before. G Max was only concerned about one thing - dumping some Time Warner securities. Is this who we want to control our collective destiny? I say FUCK NO. The uprising will start early next week. By Wednesday, I should be back in control of the minions. Seriously, if were up to G Max, he'd have us eating Matzah (unleavened bread) as we flee Benwood. Well I may be a some kind atheist self-hating Jew, but he ain't no Pharoah and I will not bow down to him or any other self-annointed God.
The only highlight that comes to mind was the "free hand sanitizers" in the Port-a-Cleans. If it were up to G Max and his bean-counterism, he'd have imposed some kind of hand-washing tariff on the Port-o-Crappers.
I neglected to mention that Heather and G Max both purchased over-sized Italian Ices. If I recall, Heather got blackberry and G Max got Pina Colada.
So, let's break it down (scale of 1-100):
Sternwheeler Fest - SUCKED
Heather's heel - broke
Heather panites - nonexistent
G Max's leadership as President of The Lunchables - I think that has been adequately covered
Gyro - 62
Tambellinis - 88
Free water from Wheeling Hospital - Refreshing
Red-headed Retard - moronic but not entirely offensive, 38
Boat People - 12
Heather's shrill rendition of some Pat Benatar song - 72
The dumpster in front of her song and dance routine - STUNK
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Backstreet Boys
A couple weeks ago, I took 5 teenagers (3 girls and 2 boys) as well as 2 moms to the Backstreet Boys concert at Starlake. We got a late 6pm start and bolted up. The ride up was noneventful. We entered the vacant parking lot right before 7pm. I asked one of the lot guys what the attendance was for this pavilion only show - he replied about 3,500. How depressing - their management should have booked them at Chevy Ampitheatre. Tix were pretty expensive and the 2 moms dished me out 2 freebies - which I sold below face for a grand total of $50.00. I was lucky to even find people to buy them. I decided not to go into the show. Instead, I hung out with the other limo drivers. The band really didn't sound that bad. They aren't really boys - I think they're all in their 30's. It slowly dawned on me that this show was a great place for a pedophile. Three thousand teens screaming in misguided ecstacy. Anyway, I set out to find the lone pedophile. Indeed, I found him near the end of the show walking up the steps. He was a balding dude in his late 40's. He had that weird, glazed look and that humpty dumpty persona which lends itself to the molestation process. I asked him what he thought of the show and he said it was fantastic. He'd never had such a good time but wanted to leave early so he could beat the rush. I said, "What rush? This is the weakest parking lot Starlake's seen all year" and he said, "Starlake??? This place is called the Post Gazette."
Anyway, the kids came back to the limo and were much more exuberant. Lots of yelling and screaming, cranking of the radio, and endless bickering about who farted. They informed me that they wanted to go to McDonalds. I had this ominous premonition about taking the limo through the drive thru at the Three Springs exit but I obliged them. My deepest fears turned into reality when the one kid started to place the order. All of this was totally haphazard. Absolute confusion. Everyone started chiming in with what they wanted. McFlurry! Cheeseburger with no onions! Large Fry! One blurted out McDogcrap. The poor McDonald girl looked at me with disgust as though I was to blame. I felt totally helpless. Then, the same kid looked at the girl and said (and I quote), "Keep the change, dollface." The entire limo errupted. Both moms in hysterics while simutaneously singing a Backstreet Boys song but substituting in the new lyrics about the dollface and her predisposition towards retaining the surplus cash. I bolted out of the drive thru and got back on 22. As expected, they were missing one of the sandwiches. However, they seemed to weather that storm. The entire ride home, the volume knob on the stereo fluctuated more than John Kerry's campaign tactics in 2004.
We finally made it to Woodsdale and they insisted on tipping me an extra 20 bucks event though I assured them that the 2 freebie tix were sufficient.
Reflecting on the negativity in this concert review, you'd think I had a bad time. But I kind of enjoyed that night. Sometimes I like to experience the annoying side of life. A little like that old Saved By The Bell episode where a young Screech gets his heart broken and a nurturing Miss Bliss plays the role of counseler. For that one special night, I became their Miss Bliss.
Anyway, the kids came back to the limo and were much more exuberant. Lots of yelling and screaming, cranking of the radio, and endless bickering about who farted. They informed me that they wanted to go to McDonalds. I had this ominous premonition about taking the limo through the drive thru at the Three Springs exit but I obliged them. My deepest fears turned into reality when the one kid started to place the order. All of this was totally haphazard. Absolute confusion. Everyone started chiming in with what they wanted. McFlurry! Cheeseburger with no onions! Large Fry! One blurted out McDogcrap. The poor McDonald girl looked at me with disgust as though I was to blame. I felt totally helpless. Then, the same kid looked at the girl and said (and I quote), "Keep the change, dollface." The entire limo errupted. Both moms in hysterics while simutaneously singing a Backstreet Boys song but substituting in the new lyrics about the dollface and her predisposition towards retaining the surplus cash. I bolted out of the drive thru and got back on 22. As expected, they were missing one of the sandwiches. However, they seemed to weather that storm. The entire ride home, the volume knob on the stereo fluctuated more than John Kerry's campaign tactics in 2004.
We finally made it to Woodsdale and they insisted on tipping me an extra 20 bucks event though I assured them that the 2 freebie tix were sufficient.
Reflecting on the negativity in this concert review, you'd think I had a bad time. But I kind of enjoyed that night. Sometimes I like to experience the annoying side of life. A little like that old Saved By The Bell episode where a young Screech gets his heart broken and a nurturing Miss Bliss plays the role of counseler. For that one special night, I became their Miss Bliss.
Friday, August 12, 2005
Coldplay
Went to Coldplay last night. As expected, it was a great show. I'm probably going to the Columbus one as well at the end of the month.
I've entered into a new phase of grilling. I like to call it "All Shrimp". The only problem is the grill. My Fire'n'Ice grill doesn't seem to get hot enough. Perhaps it is the quality of the propane although that seems unlikely. I'm going to buy the high-end Coleman canisters from now on rather than the generic stuff. I think that could make all the difference. Shrimp should not take 20 minutes. More like 3 minutes per side. Regardless, they were pretty good. That's definitely the way to go - shrimp kabob madness. Heather dropped one on the ground but remedied the situation by picking it up and dumping beer all over it. Then, she ate it. I was in disbelief - I can't belive she consumed the soiled kabob.
Should have scalped last night. Could have made a killing. There were tons of extras and a really nice mild flow to the box office. Should have spent more time in the pavillion seat as well.
Coldplay gets a 93. Great performance.
I've entered into a new phase of grilling. I like to call it "All Shrimp". The only problem is the grill. My Fire'n'Ice grill doesn't seem to get hot enough. Perhaps it is the quality of the propane although that seems unlikely. I'm going to buy the high-end Coleman canisters from now on rather than the generic stuff. I think that could make all the difference. Shrimp should not take 20 minutes. More like 3 minutes per side. Regardless, they were pretty good. That's definitely the way to go - shrimp kabob madness. Heather dropped one on the ground but remedied the situation by picking it up and dumping beer all over it. Then, she ate it. I was in disbelief - I can't belive she consumed the soiled kabob.
Should have scalped last night. Could have made a killing. There were tons of extras and a really nice mild flow to the box office. Should have spent more time in the pavillion seat as well.
Coldplay gets a 93. Great performance.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Robert Randolph
I'd never seen Robert Randolph and the Family Band until last Sunday. They played a free show at Hartwood Acres. This is a fantastic venue. Great tailgating scene and very good acoustics. I went up with Jenn and Heather and met up with Amanda and Eric who had a good spot right in front of the soundboard.
These guys are from Orange, NJ and a little on the preachy side, but for the most part are just a straight up rock/funk band. Incredibly talented and improvisational. They had the whole place rocking.
Regrettably, there's always a down side. On the way home, Heather wanted to stop at Taco Bell. Instead I offered her some Wild Bill's Beef Jerky. I warned her that it might be challenge to correctly open the bag. She made some derogatory comments about how anal I am and then had the unmitigated temerity to complain after the bag ripped open and would not re-seal. Fortunately, almost the entire bag was consumed on the ride home. Joy.
On an unrelated side-note, the first time I went to Hartwood Acres was with my family when I was about 8 years old. We saw Arlo Hayes and Woody Guthrie. When they played Alice's Restaurant, my mother screeched, "Harold, who's burning tires? It smells like someone's burning tires." My dad responded, "Ssshhh, Dorren, they're smoking pot. Sssshhhhh." Anyway, that was my first experience with marijuana. I've always liked that story.
These guys are from Orange, NJ and a little on the preachy side, but for the most part are just a straight up rock/funk band. Incredibly talented and improvisational. They had the whole place rocking.
Regrettably, there's always a down side. On the way home, Heather wanted to stop at Taco Bell. Instead I offered her some Wild Bill's Beef Jerky. I warned her that it might be challenge to correctly open the bag. She made some derogatory comments about how anal I am and then had the unmitigated temerity to complain after the bag ripped open and would not re-seal. Fortunately, almost the entire bag was consumed on the ride home. Joy.
On an unrelated side-note, the first time I went to Hartwood Acres was with my family when I was about 8 years old. We saw Arlo Hayes and Woody Guthrie. When they played Alice's Restaurant, my mother screeched, "Harold, who's burning tires? It smells like someone's burning tires." My dad responded, "Ssshhh, Dorren, they're smoking pot. Sssshhhhh." Anyway, that was my first experience with marijuana. I've always liked that story.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Widespread
Went to Chevy Ampitheatre again last night. G Max drove. Me, Jenn, Loren and Jess crammed into the refurbished Liberty. The ride up was relatively pleasant. Lots of antagonistic comments - most of them centered around gender issues regarding G Max's chick car. G Max should ignore the infidels. My father is considering purchasing a Rav 4. He likes my mother's Rav 4. I guess you could conclude that my mom and G Max share similar vehicular tastes.
Anyway, Widepsread Panic is one of the most underrated bands of all time. Many of their songs are pretty simple but they manage to make everything jam without going overboard. Come to think of it, they're not only underrated, but totally unassuming as well. Maybe that's what makes them cooler than the endless number of jam bands out there.
Anyway, I missed the first set and the ultimate insult was purchasing my ticket at the box office. No scalping tonight. The competition for cheap tickets was rough. It's hard to compete with the younger generation of dreads. I also received a great deal of negativity directed towards my Seattle Seahawks t-shirt. I'd undertand if I was sporting a Browns, Bengals or Dallas Cowboys shirt, but really, the Seahawks are cool. They've never hurt anyone's feelings. At the end of the night, a random hippie huffing on a balloon came tomy defense and praised the Seahawks.
Brief ratings:
Overall performance - 87
Accessibility of nitrous - 98
Vending scene - 93
Food - 94 (I ate 2 pizza fajita things. They were pretty strong.)
Anyway, Widepsread Panic is one of the most underrated bands of all time. Many of their songs are pretty simple but they manage to make everything jam without going overboard. Come to think of it, they're not only underrated, but totally unassuming as well. Maybe that's what makes them cooler than the endless number of jam bands out there.
Anyway, I missed the first set and the ultimate insult was purchasing my ticket at the box office. No scalping tonight. The competition for cheap tickets was rough. It's hard to compete with the younger generation of dreads. I also received a great deal of negativity directed towards my Seattle Seahawks t-shirt. I'd undertand if I was sporting a Browns, Bengals or Dallas Cowboys shirt, but really, the Seahawks are cool. They've never hurt anyone's feelings. At the end of the night, a random hippie huffing on a balloon came tomy defense and praised the Seahawks.
Brief ratings:
Overall performance - 87
Accessibility of nitrous - 98
Vending scene - 93
Food - 94 (I ate 2 pizza fajita things. They were pretty strong.)
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
changing it up
I have decided to cease and desist all upcoming restaurant reviews. Instead, I'm venturing into semi-unexplored new territory. CONCERT REVIEWS. Two major reasons for the shift in bloggism come to mind. First, after having made 35 restaurant reviews, I just thought it was time for a change. Secondly, let's face it, for the most part, G Max was the only one who ever responded to the venomous tirades.
I think I might be a little better suited to do concert analysis anyway. Some reasons:
1) My new found limo experiences offer a unique (and sober) perspective.
2) Many years in the scalping biz representing the experiences of the minority whitey. My dream is to scalp an appearance by that new German pope. Ahhh, the irony. If he comes to Heinz Field, I'm there.
3) Ability to predict the attendance of any show weeks in advance.
4) Years of dumpster parking offer strong insight into the mind of the average concert-goer.
5) An endless desire to people watch - I don't think that will ever get stale.
6) Fuck it. I've just seen a ton of shows. I'll even go see that Yanni shit or some country music show called the "Do you want fries with that Tour"?
Alright, I think I've made my point. Anyway onto the first review.
Last night I took an Island couple to the Duran Duran show in the black top. Picked them up at 4:30pm. Although corpulent and lethargic, they were "rarin' to go". Armed with giant bottles of water they tried to navigate the tiny entrance to the limo. They were eventually successful. I asked if they needed to make any stops on the way and they replied, "Nope, we're good to go" - I was like "Cool, let's do it." Off to Chevrolet Ampitheatre in Station Square. Near Dallas Pike they put the divider down and informed me that they had made a horrifying discovery. The guy yelled out, "Hey Eric, there's a half a joint back here." I was kind of surprised and told him they usually clean the limos pretty thoroughly. Anyway, he informed me that it was ok and they were alright. He then said, "I'm going to get rid of it because if we get pulled over, I don't wanna get busted." Before I could mumble a response, he rolled down his window and flicked it onto I-70 (near the Cabelas exit). I really didn't know what to make of it.
They were actually a very pleasant couple. The radio in the back was pretty quiet until they got a double shot of Ozzy on 107.5. Then they cranked it - Iron Man and then that crappy Mama I'm Coming Home song. We got to Station Square and they went to look for something to eat. They returned unfed but proudly sporting a new Beanie Baby of some kind. Then the action began to unfold. Jess and Heather along with another couple parked in a limo right next to us. For liablity reasons, I don't want to hastily mention everyone's name. They were having a good time. Drinking the best high end of all the low end beers - Miller Lite. I went off to do some scalping. Started slow with an aggressive spiky haired woman who didn't like the idea that I was selling her comp tickets. She got me down from $50 to $30 for a pair. Even threatened to get the cops involved. I told her that I appreciated her aggressive negotiation tactics but she was not amused. After I disposed of her, things really started to click. Few sales here, blah, a few more, rockin'.
Decided enough was enough and headed into the show. Duran Duran played a somewhat awkward setlist. 6 or 7 of the tunes I'd never even heard of, including the opener. I could have created a far better set list. Fortunately, the gay men everywhere could have cared less. They were all on fire last night. It was their time to shine and they would not be denied. Some estimated the gay male population at the show was a whopping 33%. Openly gay (those who know they are gay) was probably around 28%. Not that there's anything wrong with that...
Double D sounded great and the crowd was definitely into it. The ride home was relatively uneventful. Dropped off those two and went to the 19th Ho. Hooked up with Scotty and Preston and then hit Knotty Pines for last call. Some dude "Shite himself" at the Pines thus rounding out the highs and lows of an interesting evening. Anyway, here's the numbers on a scale of 1-100.
Performance of Duran Duran - 90
Quality of setlist - 52
Crowd entusiasm - 89
Parking lot scene/tailgating - 80
Quality of limo occupants - 75
Mother Shabooboo-like behavior - 88
other numbers:
Scalping - about $160
Tip - $20
Food - didn't eat anything, although I briefly considered buying a hot dog.
I think I might be a little better suited to do concert analysis anyway. Some reasons:
1) My new found limo experiences offer a unique (and sober) perspective.
2) Many years in the scalping biz representing the experiences of the minority whitey. My dream is to scalp an appearance by that new German pope. Ahhh, the irony. If he comes to Heinz Field, I'm there.
3) Ability to predict the attendance of any show weeks in advance.
4) Years of dumpster parking offer strong insight into the mind of the average concert-goer.
5) An endless desire to people watch - I don't think that will ever get stale.
6) Fuck it. I've just seen a ton of shows. I'll even go see that Yanni shit or some country music show called the "Do you want fries with that Tour"?
Alright, I think I've made my point. Anyway onto the first review.
Last night I took an Island couple to the Duran Duran show in the black top. Picked them up at 4:30pm. Although corpulent and lethargic, they were "rarin' to go". Armed with giant bottles of water they tried to navigate the tiny entrance to the limo. They were eventually successful. I asked if they needed to make any stops on the way and they replied, "Nope, we're good to go" - I was like "Cool, let's do it." Off to Chevrolet Ampitheatre in Station Square. Near Dallas Pike they put the divider down and informed me that they had made a horrifying discovery. The guy yelled out, "Hey Eric, there's a half a joint back here." I was kind of surprised and told him they usually clean the limos pretty thoroughly. Anyway, he informed me that it was ok and they were alright. He then said, "I'm going to get rid of it because if we get pulled over, I don't wanna get busted." Before I could mumble a response, he rolled down his window and flicked it onto I-70 (near the Cabelas exit). I really didn't know what to make of it.
They were actually a very pleasant couple. The radio in the back was pretty quiet until they got a double shot of Ozzy on 107.5. Then they cranked it - Iron Man and then that crappy Mama I'm Coming Home song. We got to Station Square and they went to look for something to eat. They returned unfed but proudly sporting a new Beanie Baby of some kind. Then the action began to unfold. Jess and Heather along with another couple parked in a limo right next to us. For liablity reasons, I don't want to hastily mention everyone's name. They were having a good time. Drinking the best high end of all the low end beers - Miller Lite. I went off to do some scalping. Started slow with an aggressive spiky haired woman who didn't like the idea that I was selling her comp tickets. She got me down from $50 to $30 for a pair. Even threatened to get the cops involved. I told her that I appreciated her aggressive negotiation tactics but she was not amused. After I disposed of her, things really started to click. Few sales here, blah, a few more, rockin'.
Decided enough was enough and headed into the show. Duran Duran played a somewhat awkward setlist. 6 or 7 of the tunes I'd never even heard of, including the opener. I could have created a far better set list. Fortunately, the gay men everywhere could have cared less. They were all on fire last night. It was their time to shine and they would not be denied. Some estimated the gay male population at the show was a whopping 33%. Openly gay (those who know they are gay) was probably around 28%. Not that there's anything wrong with that...
Double D sounded great and the crowd was definitely into it. The ride home was relatively uneventful. Dropped off those two and went to the 19th Ho. Hooked up with Scotty and Preston and then hit Knotty Pines for last call. Some dude "Shite himself" at the Pines thus rounding out the highs and lows of an interesting evening. Anyway, here's the numbers on a scale of 1-100.
Performance of Duran Duran - 90
Quality of setlist - 52
Crowd entusiasm - 89
Parking lot scene/tailgating - 80
Quality of limo occupants - 75
Mother Shabooboo-like behavior - 88
other numbers:
Scalping - about $160
Tip - $20
Food - didn't eat anything, although I briefly considered buying a hot dog.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Italian Festival
I ate twice at the Italian Festival this weekend. On Friday, I had a Giovanni Sandwich. This consisted of a luke-warm circular sausage, topped with American cheese on some quasi-toasted bread. It was poor. I'm actually surprised that I ordered it. All those years of being compelled to eat the Sons of Italy sausage had taken its toll. I had to go in a different direction.
On Sunday I had a sausage sandwich from the stand at Tambellinis (a quality Pittsburgh restaurant with 3 locations). It was pretty good. I also had some fresh squeezed lemonade which was pretty bad. It met 1 of the 3 requirements that you seek when drinking lemonade. It was indeed a liquid. However, it wasn't refreshing and it wasn't cold.
Sunday afternoon is really notorious for bringing the dregs of humanity out in the open. They swarm the Italian Fest like vultures looking for last minute deals on crappy novelty items. They drink their warm Bud-Light and cast toothless smiles upon all. I saw this one grotesque character picking gum from his shoe as he watched this girl fire up a cigarette. He was eyeing up that Marlboro as though it were a T-Bone steak.
Then, I watched a little of the bocce ball tournament. Why would people find this game entertaining? Yes, I realize it was a hot ticket back in the roaring twenties, but c'mon, let's step into the 90's.
All in all, the Italian Festival is pretty sketchy; however, the odds of me returning in 2006 are above 90%.
On Sunday I had a sausage sandwich from the stand at Tambellinis (a quality Pittsburgh restaurant with 3 locations). It was pretty good. I also had some fresh squeezed lemonade which was pretty bad. It met 1 of the 3 requirements that you seek when drinking lemonade. It was indeed a liquid. However, it wasn't refreshing and it wasn't cold.
Sunday afternoon is really notorious for bringing the dregs of humanity out in the open. They swarm the Italian Fest like vultures looking for last minute deals on crappy novelty items. They drink their warm Bud-Light and cast toothless smiles upon all. I saw this one grotesque character picking gum from his shoe as he watched this girl fire up a cigarette. He was eyeing up that Marlboro as though it were a T-Bone steak.
Then, I watched a little of the bocce ball tournament. Why would people find this game entertaining? Yes, I realize it was a hot ticket back in the roaring twenties, but c'mon, let's step into the 90's.
All in all, the Italian Festival is pretty sketchy; however, the odds of me returning in 2006 are above 90%.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Mike's Beef House
Formerly known as Pappas Beef House, Mike's Beef House is located in Center market down from Coleman's Fish Market. I'm not sure if the name change was absolutely necessary. I suppose it may serve some unknown higher purpose. The term "Beef House" sounds a bit strange - kind of reminscent of the song "She's a Brick House". It just sounds a little weird - "Hey, let's go eat at the Beef House". I think this sounds much better if you omit the word "the". "Hey, let's go eat at Beef House."
I've always been concerned that the citizenry of Wheeling has no concept of what real corned beef looks like or tastes like. Through the years, people have said that our town needs a real deli. I've always countered that it wouldn't matter because Wheelingites have no idea what a real deli is. Their only conception is Primanti Brothers in Pittsburgh. Primantis is decent, but it still doesn't resemble a real kosher delicatessan. Plus, who the hell would actually eat at a deli in Wheeling? Our townfolk are absolutely terrified of food they've never experienced, unless it's smothered in gravy or submerged in ketchup, sometimes ranch.
Anyway, the sandwiches were pretty good. No major complaints. I'ts difficult to go down there and not buy the obvious fish sandwich at neighboring Coleman's. Just one of those instinctive moves that's hard to overcome. Along the same line of reasoning, I usually get gasoline at Kroger, liquour at CVS, blah, etc.
I've always been concerned that the citizenry of Wheeling has no concept of what real corned beef looks like or tastes like. Through the years, people have said that our town needs a real deli. I've always countered that it wouldn't matter because Wheelingites have no idea what a real deli is. Their only conception is Primanti Brothers in Pittsburgh. Primantis is decent, but it still doesn't resemble a real kosher delicatessan. Plus, who the hell would actually eat at a deli in Wheeling? Our townfolk are absolutely terrified of food they've never experienced, unless it's smothered in gravy or submerged in ketchup, sometimes ranch.
Anyway, the sandwiches were pretty good. No major complaints. I'ts difficult to go down there and not buy the obvious fish sandwich at neighboring Coleman's. Just one of those instinctive moves that's hard to overcome. Along the same line of reasoning, I usually get gasoline at Kroger, liquour at CVS, blah, etc.
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