The World's Biggest Jackass Is...Me.

The weekend was a total washout. I managed to almost obliterate my liver and egaged in multiple forms of douchebaggery. I would like to apologize to anyone who had the misfortune of crossing paths with me this weekend. The only thing worse than a jackass is a drunk jackass. This weekend I was "that guy." Nobody wants to be "that guy." On the bright side, apparently Drinking War Games have been set up and teams are joining the fray at a rapid pace.

Monday Hangover

Well another weekend gone by means another Monday Hangover, and this was a good one. As you have already seen we paid a visit to Marie’s for what I’d like to call Olde Timey Fun. We had a grande time and I didn’t even mind the reunion with some olde friends: PBR tallboys. Usually I’d scoff at that shitty frat beer but “When in Rome you do as the fucking Romans do” or something like that. This was only the first half of the night, and the only half I remember, so I’ll share my favorite aspect of the bar and move on. The Elvis décor really sets the atmosphere at Marie’s:

So we roll out the door and head to the next bar. The first thing we do upon arrival is order shots. Then another round of shots. And that is all I remember, aside from the dirty look from the bartender as he realized I am falling-down-drunk. Well not exactly at this point but soon after, as I was informed on Saturday that I had indeed fallen down. Twice. At the bar. In front of everybody. Somehow I made it home – and no, I didn’t drive, so fuck off.

Normally I wouldn’t return to the very bar I was cut-off from the previous night. But since I blacked out and had no idea I’d fallen down I was unaware of my transgressions. So for the next hour or so the bar staff had the unexpected joy of ripping me to shreds for being such an idiotic drunk the night before. I deserved it, but denied any accountability and eased into some modest beer drinking the rest of the night. That is until our group (Lord von Lord, King Randall The Insufferable, Tag B, and others) were set upon by the youth faction at our bar talking shit. Then he stepped in it by challenging us to a drinking contest. We’ll get into this more when the time is right, but for now we’re all licking our chops waiting for the opportunity to drink these pussies under the table. I envision it something like this:
But it will more likely be something like this:

Sunday was mild for the second week in a row. Early evening drinks at Tags. Then went out for just a couple more to send LVL on his way to Hawaii, which I’m sure we’ll all have to hear about over and over after he returns. Of course KRTI was there so we had to do some shots, Jager this time. Then again. You see how this goes…

Islandblogging

I am getting the fuck out of here.



Hitting Maui for almost a week, then my fine ass will be sending rounds down range with the pipe-hitters union.



Well needed break, actually, before I throttle the living shit out of some people that desperately have it coming.



So, it is with that bipolar desire for fun and blood on my mind that I blow this taco stand. Pictures, story time, and reviews of whereever I can scrounge up a drink over there to follow.

Just An Idea

This may not fly with some, but here we go. Have you ever seen those commercials where a sad lady, man or couple is sitting there wondering what their kid would be like (while kids playing, smiling and having fun flash on the screen) if they hadn't had that abortion? Well I want to see the commercial where the sad parent is sitting there looking like shit (with their kid going crazy in the back ground) as they wonder what it would have been like if they would have had that abortion; flash to couple driving off in their boat, or having a nice relaxing night by the fire that looks like it could lead to more. Come on pro choice people get to it I know I would laugh.

Bar, er...beer joint review

Marie's Olde Towne Tavern

A beginning is a very delicate time--Irulan Corrino

So, naturally our first review of a bar is a beer joint with a proclivity for adding e's to words for the middle English effect. Classic. Marie's is located near the bus station, that approximation is all you really need to know. This place is an old Knoxville stalwart, having been part of the community for decades. Beer only, no draft...cans and bottles. Heineken is the top of the food chain there, and unlike trendy college fucks, the patrons here drink PBR and High Life because that is what they can afford. A small cash register sits near a notepad...that's how they run the drunkard's tab.

After the initial shock of the regulars at young(ish) professionals descending among them, an amazing thing happened...we were as accepted as they were, part of the gang. It was a pretty good feeling. King Randall, Mackey, Disco Dan and myself spent a few hours there getting to really mix it up with the regulars. Most look to be ephemeral characteratures, transitory relics of a bygone time...and they can drink. A metric shit ton, in fact. What meant to be a short time visit lasted most of the night. King Randall, after first being labeled as a Greyhound patron, quickly made introductions for the rest of us.

One thing that must be said about Marie's: Customer service is king. Being a regular at another establishment, we've been granted a wide berth there. Special treatment. Marie's staff, and I use the term loosely, pays close attention to your needs and will provide you with possibly the saltiest of popcorn right when you need it. They believe in the strange but ancient practice of reverse tipping, and mingle seemlessly among dart players and working folk who take the edge off of life's struggle one sip at a time.

If you really need proof this place is a product of a bygone era, check out the old school ashtray in the shitter. I mean, in today's nanny state smoking is a faux pas even here in Knoxvegas. Here, they still smoke like tramp steamers and apparently find the thought of throwing the butt in the crapper proper or the trash can is unacceptable.

The place has grown on us, gentle reader. We'll be back. Try it sometime if you find yourself dodging the usual denizens of Knoxville.

Memo to the mosquitoes...

that have eaten me up this week at the pool and lake. If there is any solace to being a buffet for family Culicidae, it's that my alcohol stream was so robust that any blood taken must have killed you little bastards. Fuck off.

Noah's Mill Bourbon

In the first of many product and bar reviews we select something close to our hearts and even closer to our livers - bourbon. I present to you: Noah’s Mill.

First, from their website:

Noah’s Mill----------------
Aged in wooden barrels, bottled by hand at
57.15% alc./vol. (114.3 proof)

Noah’s Mill Genuine Bourbon Whiskey is handmade in the hills of
Kentucky.

This is a Bourbon of extraordinary character and smoothness not
found among younger whiskies. Its superior taste and flavor characteristics are
made possible only from using the very finest quality ingredients at the outset
along with the long years and patience necessary for nature to mellow everything
to perfection. We bottle this Bourbon at a strength that best compliments its
age, and we’re sure you’ll enjoy it like no other Bourbon.

Okay now our review, but let’s set some guidelines: all spirits are first consumed straight without any mixer – no water, soda, juice or even ice, just the pure product.

I have to admit I had this bottle of bourbon sitting on a shelf at my house for about two weeks before I tried it. I knew it would be a formidable opponent, so after some mild drinking one evening with Lord Von Lord we decided to have a go at it. First reaction: Pure fucking gasoline! No, Rocket Fuel!!

Have you ever had a strong taste of any booze that just takes your breath away? I mean literally, it takes the air out of your lungs, your face turns red, sweat beads on your forehead, you loosen your shirt collar, etc. Well this was one of those. I've had similar experiences with PGA, Absinthe, and some other high volume whiskeys/bourbons. It made me feel like I could breathe fire, something like this: http://members.shaw.ca/legion_roll_call/reserve/subs/fire_lad/

I've never heard of Fire Lad before I did a search to find someone breathing fire, but it seemed appropriate, sorta.

Fire Lad (Staq Mavlen), of the planet Shwar, was endowed
with flame breath when he inhaled weird vapors from a crashed meteor.

Yeah, that's about how I felt. The following weekend I transported this highly flammable substance to our friend Tag's house for a group sampling. This went over much better, as there were women present thus challenging us to behave as men instead of pussies. We also had it over ice which allowed a more drinkable experience. By the time you poured a glass the ice melted so quickly it was like mixing it with water and you could actually taste the smooth flavors the distillers mentioned. Aside from the first near-deadly encounter it really does have some flavor and mellow character if you add ice or water. It went down faster than we expected, so apparently everyone liked it. I can't say I'll be drinking this very often since it costs $50 a bottle, but give it a try if you're looking for a special occasion bourbon to add to your liquor cabinet. Plus you can use it to shut up that asshole friend who always thinks they can drink anything. "Hey buddy, let me pour you a shot of this new bourbon I've got...."