Honky Tonk and Midas Touch

Posted on 1 April 2009 | 5 comments

Last Saturday morning, my brother and I got up at 5:30 in the morning in order to drive 6.5 hours to Nashville, TN. We forgot about the time change, which means we could have slept until 6:30. We are both still alive despite getting up before the sun.

Our first stop in Nashville was Opry Mills mall, near Opryland and the Grand Ole Opry. We saw the Operahouse and the hotel from a distance, and I was impressed by their grandeur. I was more impressed with the restaurant that we ate at: Aquarium Restaurant. The middle of the building was a huge aquarium with 7-inch thick glass walls. The restaurant employs five marine biologists who feed the fish, take care of the tank, and who provide educational programming at the sting-ray pool next door.

This is where it got exciting: I got to feed and pet live sting-rays! Most people who know me understand how much I love rays, so this was like a dream come true. I expected rays to feel like sharks or dolphins, but their skin is rubbery and slick. They seemed to have their own individual personalities as they came to the edge of the pool to take the shrimp from our hands. I was never brave enough to hold onto the shrimp long enough to feel the ray take it, but my brother got a huge hickie on his knuckle from the suction of the ray’s mouth.

When we got to downtown Nashville, we drove through the city to get acquainted with the roads and to sort of acclimate to the way the city was situated. Once we dropped everything off at our hotel, we were shuttled back downtown and told to call by 10:30 in order to get a ride back for free. After 10:30, we would have to pay for a taxi. We started off by just walking around and looking at souvenir shops, passing by the bars, and discovering the oddities of the town.

Saturday our first stop was Fort Nashborough. I think I would have liked to live there, then. On our way back to 2nd street from the fort, we passed by Coyote Ugly, and although I wanted to go in, we thought better of it. We then went to a bar called the Stage on Broadway. No cover charge. $14 for a Maker’s and Coke and a Jack and Coke. There was the cover charge. The Stage was next door to Jack’s Bar-B-Que where we went for dinner. We stood in line for what seemed like forever, and the barbecue was good so it wasn’t disappointing.  That night we ended up at the Big Bang, a dueling piano bar. I had a first gin and tonic and a Sam Adam’s Lager. Adam had a gin and tonic and a martini, then he sang ALL of Vanilla Ice’s Ice Ice Baby with the pianist. It only would have been better if he could have gone up on stage.

On Sunday, we got up early and went across the street to Starbucks for breakfast. Our first stop was the Parthenon, which was closed on Sundays. Of course, none of our tourist information told us it was closed, because we would have gone there on Saturday when we first got to Nashville. So, we walked around the perimeter and then headed back to buy the souvenirs/gifts we wanted. For lunch, we went to the Nashville Farmer’s Market and had braised oxtail, pineapple sweet potatoes, fried plantains, johnny cakes, and ginger beer at a restaurant called Jamaicaway. We then explored the market/flea market and bought a few things at their International Market. After that we went back to the hotel for a few minutes, then headed back downtown to the Frist Center for the Visual Arts . That Sunday was family day, so admission was free and there were people dressed in Medeival dress to celebrate the opening of an exhibit of Medieval art that was on loan from the Cleveland Museum of Art. The best exhibit was a collaborative exhibit with a local homeless shelter. When we left Frist, we went to the Stage again. I had a $4 Pabst Blue Ribbon, and we listened to a band that was pretty bad for about an hour while we killed time before we were supposed to meet for our ghost tour. We chose to go on the Haunted Tavern Tour. We visited three pubs: Past Present, McFaddin’s, and Buffalo Billiards. I think we had drinks at two of them, and there was no “ghost tour discount.” Certainly, Nashville makes their money by charging too much for beer. After walking all over Nashville, we finished out the night at Big River Brewery with nachos and salads. Big River reminded me a lot of Rock Bottom Brewery in Indianapolis. The food was good. We were exhausted.

When Monday morninng came, we had to say good-bye. Sadly. We got up early and went out of Nashville to Loveless Cafe where, song of the south, I had BBQ for breakfast! Talk about my fantasy come true. After I ordered my breakfast, I sort of worried for a minute that it would be some lame-ass breakfast barbecue, but when our waitress brought it out nestled between two soft-fried eggs on two tiny corn pancakes, I was pleased as punch to see that it was genuine pulled-pork BBQ! I have never had such a delicious breakfast. Grits, BBQ, biscuits, and eggs. Completed only with a nice, steaming mug of coffee. On our way home we stopped at Jungle Jim’s to look around. We bought a few things and then headed to Indy to get Adam’s computer. By the time he dropped me off at my house at 8:30 or 9, I was beat. I fell asleep pretty quickly and woke up sick.

One of the things I bought at Jungle Jim’s was beer. I know you are surprised. I got five porters and a Dogfish Head ale. Last night I drank the first two with some of Bec’s homemade spaghetti sauce. While I was gone, she made beef potpies and spaghetti sauce. Am I lucky woman or what?! Anyway, I had Dead Reckoning Porter by Troegs Brewery. It was dark with a nice cream-colored head that faded pretty quickly. The flavor was dark with a little hint of coffee and a little bite. It wasn’t my favorite, but it wasn’t my least favorite either. I am not sure what some people at Beer Advocate were drinking, but I am pretty sure it wasn’t the same beer I had. One guy said the head was long-lasting. Mine faded after about five minutes. The other beer I had is one of my new favorites: Dogfish Head’s Midas Touch. It has a nice pour, with a pure white head on top of nice, bright yellow lacey body. The head fades really quickly, and you are left with the bubbly goodness of muscat grapes, honey, barley, and saffron. You can definitely taste the grapes, which made this beer more like a mead. Fine with me. Yum.

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Posted in Beer, Food, Just for Fun, Relationships, Winter Weather

Up Again So Soon … Still Recovering in Twelve Steps

Posted on 27 March 2009 | 3 comments

I am awake. It is 2:23 AM. I am watching King of the Hill. I love my life. I think I will stay up for another hour and a half so I can watch Roseanne. Then I will go to bed and sleep until noon … which never happened. I didn’t sleep until noon. I slept until 6 then slept again from 8 to 11. And, I am still recuperating from that little overnight shenanigan in twelve steps. These twelve steps would not be followed if Izzy lived with me. 🙂

  1. I admitted that I am powerless over sleep deprivation—my life had become unmanageable. I couldn’t remember anything about what I was doing or saying.
  2. I came to believe that beer could restore me to sanity. Beer can always restore.
  3. I decided to turn my will and my life over to multiple helpings of that specific elixir, choosing hops, yeast, and malt over the newly discovered bliss of Aquavit.
  4. I made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself. I was weary and worn. I decided to drink.
  5. I admitted to the bottom of the first pint the exact nature of my wrongs: I stayed up for far too long. I admitted my desire for sleep to the bottom of another pint and another and another and another and another and another, and then I admitted these wrongs to all those around me. Loudly and slurred. I am shleeeppyyy, I said before I slipped into unconsciousness.
  6. I was ready to have my sleep restored to me. I wanted my sleep to be restored to me.
  7. I humbly asked the bartender to facilitate my eventual sleep—I put my insomnia in his hands.
  8. I made a list of all the beers which had harmed me, and became willing to make amends to them all.
  9. I made quick amends to the beers I loved and was kept from injury by two angels—one flaxen, one titian, both Southern—who escorted me home.
  10. Once I was safe, I continued to take personal inventory of my level of alertness, to reassess my evening consumption, and to hope for the veil of sleep.
  11. I sought through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with God as I understand [Them], praying only for knowledge of [Their] will for me and the power to carry that out.
  12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, I tried to carry this message to insomniacs, and to practice these principles in all my affairs. I especially thanked my caretakers and nursed my bumpy head.

Seriously, I have been so busy, I haven’t even been able to write here. I continue to feel guilty but simultaneously fulfilled with my level activity. I feel guilty because I cannot make last minute plans with people. I am simply to busy to squeeze people into the schedule.

A friend of mine and I were supposed to get together today, but she had to go to South Bend. She asked me earlier in the week if we could get together another time in the week, and after I checked my calendar, I had to write to her to say that there simply were no other days we could meet. I literally had a school function, studying, or some other thing going on every single day.

Several days in the past three weks I have had twelve or thirteen hour long days, and the day that sparked the twelve-step list was a 20 hour day: I got up at 6AM and worked until 2AM the next morning. Really.

I am fulfilled because I have never been happier with the work I am doing. My assistantship with all of its oddities is the best one I have had. My courses are plodding along well, and I am continually challenged by my directed reading and the Morrison class. Ideas for my dissertation are ruminating nicely inside my too full head, and I am sated by the information with which I am gorging my hungry mind. Jasbir Puar, I will understand your writing one day.

In my spare time, I learned that my neighborhood grocery store should be receiving six-packs of glass bottles of Faygo, but that if I want to order a 24-pack of cans of Faygo, it will cost $15 to get it delivered to my house. This would, of course, be a moot point if my neighborhood grocery would just carry Rock-n-Rye Cream Cola. Not diet. I despise Diet Cola. If I wanted zero calories, I would just drink water.

My brother and I are going to Nashville this weekend for a little break, so I hope to be able to access this site to report on our activities. I am sure we will haev fun. I know for sure we are going to Jungle Jim’s in Cincinnati on the way home, and we are going to the Apple store to get his new computer. I am excited to be away for a bit.

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Posted in Beer, Insomnia, Literature, Reading, Relationships, School, Writing

Squidbillies, Metalocalypse, and Pinball Numbers

Posted on 16 March 2009 | 3 comments

I have so much to do that I am having a hard time figuring out a logical order to do things in, so I am watching Scooby-Doo on Cartoon Network and watching this on my laptop:

I should be making my own little movies for my assistantship, but I can’t pass up watching Scooby-Doo. Since they took away The Golden Girls, Scooby and pals are my only joy in the morning, aside from walking the dogs and eating left-over Anime Peter Pan birthday cake for breakfast. Now Drew is cooking pizza and it smells better than my cake tasted.

David was home this weekend. We played Guitar Hero, watched Squidbillies and Metalocalypse. This is just what I needed: two more adult cartoons to fight for my time. I mean, would you rather watch hillbilly squids or read Toni Morrison? That was a joke, of course. But, I can access full episodes of both cartoons online.

*

Tonight I am going to Heather’s dad’s funeral. I spent a lot of time over the weekend wondering why, but then I realized that I will never understand why. I am pretty sure that God doesn’t have to answer to us. Instead, we answer to [Them], so I should just get it that I will never get it. And focus on living my life in a way that pleases [Them]. It could have been me. I could have been swept away to the pearly gates, begging St. Peter to let me. I would just tell him that one of my favorite beers is St. Peter’s Porter. I am sure I would be a shoo-in.

Shannon and I are riding to the funeral together, and I am looking forward to spending time with her. I was supposed to go out with her this weekend, but I inadvertently ate an entire half-pound bag of Almond M&Ms then drove to Upland to be with Heather. We met at Payne’s coffee shop, and I had some frozen custard alogn with my coffee. I think the HUGE amount of sugar made me sick. I was fine when I left Upland, but then I got about half-way home before I started sweating, chilling, and feeling like I was going to throw up. My mom is diabetic, so you would think I would pay more attention to the amount of sugar I eat. However, I was reading and just kept eating the M&Ms until I realized they were all gone. It happens.

3 Comments

Posted in Beer, Fat, Reading, Relationships, Religion, School

P.S. Ms. Bern (CEO of Charming Shoppes, Inc.)

Posted on 11 March 2009 | Leave a comment

P.S. If you would add a concession stand in each of your stores, you might see your revenue increase. I know I could do with a nice refreshing beverage after grunting and sweating in and out of clothes in your tiny little dressing rooms. Why do you install heat lamps above them?

P.P.S. You could sell beer, too, but not Rogue’s XS Imperial Stout. The taste of the beer isn’t worth the ceramics wasted on the cool container, although I do like the little rubber stopper. My dislike for the beer has nothing to do with my lack of testes or testosterone. I simply like my beer to taste like beer, not bourbon. I am a machine when it comes to drinking beer. I don’t need more crankcase oil, which is what this beer tastes like. This reviewer, Dan, must have had a bit too much to drink before writing. In fact, I am sure Dan had the entire $15 bottle. Dan, it is always a bad idea to drink and write.

So, Ms. Bern, you should offer Cabernet, Shiraz, Avery’s Old World Porter, St. Peter’s English Ale, St. Peter’s Porter, Guinness, and Rogue’s Dead Guy Ale. Maybe for the Scottish lasses you could offer a Wee Heavy. How about some foot-long coney dogs and nachos, too?

P.P.P.S. Did I mention that you need to teach your machines how to sew on buttons? Mine are always falling off at inopportune times, like when I am teaching.

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Posted in Beer, Fat, Just for Fun, Teaching

Dear Lane Bryant (Chairman, CEO)

Posted on 10 March 2009 | 2 comments

Dear Dorrit J. Bern:

I have enjoyed shopping at Lane Bryant since I was in high school, and I have always appreciated your selection of stylish, hip clothes for bigger women. While I sometimes feel that some of the styles of clothes you sell are better left to thinner women or to no one at all, I recognize that you are trying to be equitable in offering plus-size women many options for their dressing pleasure.

I do appreciate your attempt to stylishly clothe large women; however, I am appalled at the fact that you have been charging what can only amount to gross mark-ups for your clothing. No gauze shirt is worth $45. No ill-fitting pant suit is worth the $150-$200 total that I paid for pants, jacket, and button down shirt. I didn’t even get the job. I blame my current unemployment on the jacket’s tendency to creep up in the back, producing what I call the Dracula effect in which my ears are hidden by the collar as I gesture, cross my arms, or breathe.

I also wonder if you have taken into consideration the fact that not all fat women have large breasts. I weigh 240 pounds, but I am 5’2″ tall and wear a size 40B bra. I do not have the voluptuousness to fill out your clothing’s more than ample bust lines. Where cleavage should be, onlookers find glimpses of my bra or my sternum. Very attractive. And, the darts don’t help camouflage the fact that I am not breast-blessed. In fact, they amplify the space between the cloth and my breasts until the resulting flaps resemble front-side angel wings.

Similarly, I wonder if you have considered those of us who are fat-petite. As I have indicated, I am 5’2″ tall. Spending $55 or more for a pair of pants should prohibit the necessity for me to take them home only to spend an hour or so altering them to fit my short legs. I don’t mind my jeans dragging the ground, but I draw the line at dress pants. What about the shorties who can’t sew? Will you also open a shoe store specializing in high heels?

Now that I have spoken my mind in generalities, I would like for you to turn your attention to a specific situation. Today, I went shopping with a friend of mine and we left Lane Bryant in the Muncie Mall in low spirits. It appears that you no longer stock size 30 pants in your stores. In addition, we were informed that Lane Bryant no longer carries size 30 on their website or in their catalog. We were not directed to another store or given any advice about where to find size 30 pants. They did exist once upon a time. Surely, they were to be found somewhere.

When I got home, I discovered that Charming Shoppes, Inc. does, in fact, carry size 30, but at Catherine’s, Lane Bryant’s sister store. Had we been informed that we could simply go to another store that was nearby, my friend may have purchased five or six new pairs of pants. Since your company systematically and monetarily rapes fate women, knowing full-well that we have few other option, today’s little debacle means you lost about $400 in sales.

I would encourage you to carry bigger sizes at Lane Bryant, or at the very least, you could inform women who wear those sizes that they can purchase similarly priced and styled clothing at one of Lane Bryant’s sister stores. I mean, you shamelessly advertise Cacique on the radio as we shop. Why not advertise Fashion Bug and Catherine’s as well? As it is my friend was so upset, that she went home and ordered from Ashley Stewart. Your loss.

If you want us to continue to patronize your business, you could begin to heal today’s wounds with a few gift certificates. Perhaps a couple of gift cards, maybe $200 on each one, would help us to get over our ill-feelings and trauma.

Sincerely,

A Natty Heifer

2 Comments

Posted in Fat, Feminism