Paella? I don’t even know her!

Triple weekend got under way at Lakefront Brewery on Friday night.

The polka action must have made me dizzy because I forgot my debit card at the bar.  [I called today to inquire about the green Associated card with the corner torn off.  Classy.]    Rachel, luckily, did not forget to be tall and Jeremy brought his boyish good looks.   So boyish, in fact, a bartender at a subsequent drinking establishment, after checking his license muttered “way off” to himself.  I think this was the same door guy who welcomed Whitney back as a regular even though we’ve never been there before and he still doesn’t live in Milwaukee.

Other than losing Shelly, nothing major stood in the way of having 3x the fun so we headed to Chicago on Saturday.  It marked my first Amtrak ride since the 42 hour death ride of ‘06.  The train was Rastafarian/Amish-free but I still couldn’t relax until crossing the IL border.

From that point on, the only two things that could calm my nerves were a trip to a bar filled with dogs and tons of tiny tapas bites.

Step one: find a bar with lots of random dogs in it; pet them.  Check.

This dog is giving me the stink eye because he likes me.   He and his basset hound friend were accompanied by at least three other random dogs.  No leashes, no explanations, no regrets.   The owners were nowhere to be found when they started howling at us for our cookies but I didn’t mind.

Step two: drink Sangria by the bushel* while waiting for a table at Cafe Iberico.  Then eat things like “grilled sea scallops with saffron sauce” and “baked goat cheese with fresh tomato basil sauce.”  Check.

We also stumbled upon a new game.  It was nameless until now, so I’ll call it “El Pulpo.”  Here’s how you should play — go around the table and say any spanish word you can think of.  Keep it up until someone can’t go and then try it with French and German.  The erratic results are hilarious — Sacapunta!  Gato!  Autobús!  Finish by scraping the pan and yelling “paella!”

*1 Bushel = 4 Pecks, 1 Peck = 2 gallons

*

Oh, Paraguay, I didn’t see you there…

Thanks to a trivia savvy co-worker, I have a new favorite website.  Sporcle.com has opened a wonderful world of amazingly specific quizzes.   Mental Floss‘ contributions to the trivia world have been lackluster and rather redundant as of late while The Morning News’ map quizzes are too few and far between.   Sporcle to the rescue!

Four letter countries?  There are 10.  Name them.

Countries containing a J? There are 7.  Name them.

Country by outline?  I can’t believe I didn’t get Burkina Faso!  I love that little guy!

North Woods Mini Jaunt

Rachel is tall and we own the same shirt.  I love my small friends but when the opportunity arises to hang out with a lady half an inch taller than me, I can’t pass it up.

So excited, in fact, I chose to drive into the north woods alone in the dark with only an iPhone to guide me.  Note to self, when your AT&T signal fades (which it surely will) with it goes your sense of direction and the confidence to safely operate a motor vehicle.   I had to rely on the ole’ “driving by feel method” to lead me the final few miles to Lakewood where Whit, Jeremy and Rachel waited patiently.

Elvis and I were ready to party so the only place to go was The Beach Club – a tropical-themed north woods oasis of karaoke, cigarettes and big city girls from Green Bay out for a girls night.

This place is such a gem I will even forgive the horrendous grammar on their website.   Owners Walt and Sandy clearly care about their customers and I really want to thank them for their hospitality.

To show them my appreciation, I did not hold back on the Karaoke.  ”Islands in the Stream” made it’s public debut. You would think after a few dozen dry runs on the Wii it would have gone better than it did.   It’s apparent at this point when I drink I get slightly less nervous but significantly worse at singing.  W got louder but it still didn’t drown out whatever I was trying to do.

I hung up my mic for the evening before scaring the locals with a kreepy version of “Enjoy the Silence.” The four of us were all anxious to get to bed so we could wake up to make this:

Ba ba ba badabaaaaahh!  Huevos Rancheros from scratch, and I helped.  Ranch Eggs are the perfect fuel climbing up a giant, rickety Fire Lookout Tower.   There’s no telling how many teenagers have died attempting a 100 foot high make out session but I hope the state never tallies it up.   It’s fun to risk your life in search of the perfect peep.

Way To Go, 33

 

The internet is an amazing place.   Casttv.com lets you watch any show you can think of, sometimes before it even airs on regular TV.   I discovered it while searching for a way to circumvent HBO’s grip on True Blood.

Now, Season Four FNL is back and I’m not waiting this time.  Watch it so we can expound on every detail of Riggins’ return to Dillon.   It only takes him  four minutes of episode one to drop out of college and hightail it back into my life as a full-time cast member.

It’s never too late to get on board.  You can watch from Season One online or at my house.  Just let me know.

Let’s do this East Dillon Giraffes!

 

The Ween

One of the best things about the trip to Maine was convincing Cara to come to Milwaukee for Halloween.

As an homage to our recent adventure she came ready to party as a lobster. Her duct tape-wrapped-wire-hanger-antennae were the only thing at the bar more frightening than the Twine Flu.

Jesse and Kristy Yamaguchi had promised her the time of her lobster life.   It seemed like the whole city was begging for her approval because it kept giving her free stuff.    She was handed a giant brown-bagged bottle of champagne on one occasion and a bonus mini donut on another.  Just by uttering the words “this is my fist time in the Midwest,” she was showered with hot dogs and, on Friday, a baby doll from an OctoMom.  That doll was promptly transformed into a LobstoBaby  and renamed Shelly so Cara could assume her Saturday night role as the LobstoMom.

After hanging out with a couple of Brobots (Robot Buddies) at the Nomad on evening #2, I modeled how to drop a debit card in the street and go out the next morning to find it right where I left it.  Seriously, peep those leaves before you jump to conclusions.  If it’s not in your wallet, check the pile of leaves in the street out front.

Cara promised the weekend was worth 14.5 Cs in her book.  That’s an impressive score on the 1 – FUN sliding scale.   I bet it was the shoulder ride provided by the Bronze Fonz put her over the edge.

Google Wizardry

This can’t be a trick because that’s something a whore does for money – or candy – but what gives Google?

As if the interweb didn’t confuse me enough already…proof that it is powered by mystical forces.

 

 

Bizarro

Like the Barnebey I know, but not.

Roadside Lobster

I went to Maine for a wedding and stayed for the leaf peeping.   Awww my autumn colors!   Top that foliage with some roadside lobster shack action and you have yourself one picture perfect New England Saturday.  If only I hadn’t thrown up at the New Hampshire Welcome Center it would have earned that elicit 10 K rating I’ve been holding out on.

How to Lose a Lobster in Ten Minutes from Schmatie on Vimeo.

Do the Perp

Endicular, that is.

Wild Things

The only appropriate company with which to see Where The Wild Things Are is your mom and little brother.  If you don’t have access to your own version of Pamcakes and Bry Guy, perhaps they’d be obliged to see it again with you.  I won’t be sitting through this a second time, but I can tell you a few review tidbits.

Visually, the movie is stunning.  Shot in Australia,the story unfolds in a world of perpetual sunset.   The actual Wild Things are expressive and complex –  I can’t recall another set of CGIed puppets reducing me to tears – but the real ray of light is Max Records, the youngster who plays the fictional Max.  He’s little and lonely and out of control and heartbreaking and rambunctious and magnetic.

This movie is rated PG but I don’t think any of the kids in the theater liked it all that much.  I can’t blame them.   My 26 years of deep-thought-thinking and symbol-analyzing couldn’t stop my mind from wandering.  ”Hold the camera still, Spike!” and “when is this going to be over?” may have slipped in a few times.   I was ready when Max finally said goodbye to the Wild Things.

Beautiful, unique, nostalgic, glad I saw it.

Score: 7/10