Back when I was a kid, Blogs were called 'imaginary friends' and were only slightly more pathetic.

Monday, February 21, 2005

Like Baby Vomit Wrapped in Chewing Gum

Obviously, the news about Hunter S. sucks balls. Other voices I'm sure will give much better tributes than I could, so I'll just leave it at 'that sucks' and hope that your death doesn't lead to anti-drug assholes jumping up and down shrieking, "See? See??.

Anyway, found ourselves out last night at a place called "Why Not? Cocktail lounge" in picturesque Hayward, California. I had read recently on a list called Tiki Central that someone had taken a dive bar in a cruddy neighborhood and turned it into a swanky little Tiki place. Always on the lookout for hip little joints, me and the mrs. decided to check it out.

Well, let's start with the 'Tiki' aspect of it. The phrase, "Going apeshit at the party store" came to mind. All Tiki statues were plastic or cardboard, and all grass and trees were of the paper or plastic variety. None of the previous Coors Light football penants had been removed, so the result was an odd mishmash of poorly planned Frat party and Worcester, Mass. sports bar. Total cost to the owner for this 'makeover', probably around a hundred bucks. When we walked in, there was one other person there besides the bartender, and nothing depresses you quicker than a big, bright bar with no one in it.

Forging ahead, I checked out their 'exotic drink' menu. I suppose this one's supposed to say Creamsicle even though it's spelled 'Cremcisle'. Most of the rest sound like bad Schnapps concoctions and variations on Apple Martinis. Someone's clearly trying to class up this joint, so I'll play along. I order us a couple of Mojitos (when properly made, quite a delicious little cocktail of rum, soda, sugar and mint). The bartender looked quite puzzled at first, but upon turning around to see their own drink menu, the light bulb went off in her head. "I know how to make that", she squealed with delight, and off she went.

What was served to us could kindly be referred to as gag-inducing, or not so kindly as like Freshen-Up gum injected with amniotic fluid. Being a trained Mixologist with a 'degree' from Housatonic Community College, I was somewhat able to piece together the cascading series of poor judgements that our drinksmith committed. I'm pretty sure that she took cheap vodka (or possibly really cheap rum) and mixed it half and half with Spearmint Schnapps. That's it! She proudly presented the two 'fancy' drinks she had made as though her resume had just become infinitely more impressive. The end result, unfortunately, wasn't so much a classic mojito as it was something akin to a glass filled with toothpaste and lighter fluid.

After choking down as much as we could (about 2 sips for Teri and 4 or 5 for me), the rest of the evening became a mission to try and get that awful taste out of our mouths. In the end, it took several spicy chicken tacos from The Bell to soak up the residue left by our little 'trip to the South Pacific'.

Not highly recommended. Oh yeah, and RIP Mr. Thompson.

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