04 October 2008
new color
the blog has a new color scheme... I like it for now, but I am unsure of how it will wear. Any thoughts?
30 September 2008
iphone blogging
I just figured out how blog from the silly bazilly iPhone. Obviously this is an inferior way of keeping up with the blog, but it's an intriguing option.
I'm also thinking about doing a color reformat of the site... any
thoughts from readers would be welcome.
29 September 2008
sweet caroline's
This weekend harbored a significant event in my FroRo life: my first night on the town in Winchester. Winchester is kind of a big deal around these parts, it plays the role of the "big city" in Northwestern Virginia (or the Valley as the natives call it) with a host of treats for the people who flock here from the hinterlands. The resplendent Apple Blossom Mall hosts many fine shops in its single story, the decadent downtown has a handful top flight bars and clubs, and Shenandoah University serves as a beacon of knowledge to all who dare gaze upon it. All in all, Winchester sure is the shit.
I happened to sample some of the night life of Winchester, the bar known as Sweet Caroline's (dun dun dun, like the song), for one of my coleagues' 29th birthday bonanza. I was the DD, so while the drinks were flowing for everyone else, I was there to make sure that everyone got home safe and without vomiting all over their nice going out clothes. Mind you that "everyone" and "their" refers to the group of twentysomething teachers I was with, who were all out to have a good time - to jam out with their clam out as one of them put it - at the club of clubs in downtown Winchester.
With such high expectations, I was sure that I was going to be let down by the reality of the place. And at first, I think I was. There wasn't much dancing going on, the average age of the people at the bar seemed to be about 56 (this number was skewed by the presence of a man we all agreed was over the age of 85) and the mood seemed to be a shade under subdued. But as the third and fourth drinks started to hit people's bloodstreams, and as the younger types filed in from their raucus pregames (no doubt fueled by the victory of local favorites Virginia Tech), the mood seemed to lighten overall and the real party got underway.
From this gathering, I learned three critical lessons:
1) If I ever get to the point where I am over 30 and trying to pick women up in a bar, I hope that my friends and family have the good sense and kindness of heart to put me down old Yeller style.
2) When a fiftysomething soulful black woman starts grinding up on you, all you can do is grind back. Its truly the only acceptable course of action. And when she reaches around for your junk? Well, you better hope that the previously mentioned grinding has had the appropriate (read: deflating) effect on the package. Otherwise you could be in for some trouble.
3) To be considered worth a second look by women at a Winchester bar, you must be wearing a hat. Preferably with a nascar number on it or the letters "VT". God help you if you are using it to cover up your baldness, though.
Those are the distilled facts garnered from my night on the town. I could provide more in the way of narrative, but I think that those points really highlight much of what I learned out there. I will be sure to post more findings once my research develops further.
I happened to sample some of the night life of Winchester, the bar known as Sweet Caroline's (dun dun dun, like the song), for one of my coleagues' 29th birthday bonanza. I was the DD, so while the drinks were flowing for everyone else, I was there to make sure that everyone got home safe and without vomiting all over their nice going out clothes. Mind you that "everyone" and "their" refers to the group of twentysomething teachers I was with, who were all out to have a good time - to jam out with their clam out as one of them put it - at the club of clubs in downtown Winchester.
With such high expectations, I was sure that I was going to be let down by the reality of the place. And at first, I think I was. There wasn't much dancing going on, the average age of the people at the bar seemed to be about 56 (this number was skewed by the presence of a man we all agreed was over the age of 85) and the mood seemed to be a shade under subdued. But as the third and fourth drinks started to hit people's bloodstreams, and as the younger types filed in from their raucus pregames (no doubt fueled by the victory of local favorites Virginia Tech), the mood seemed to lighten overall and the real party got underway.
From this gathering, I learned three critical lessons:
1) If I ever get to the point where I am over 30 and trying to pick women up in a bar, I hope that my friends and family have the good sense and kindness of heart to put me down old Yeller style.
2) When a fiftysomething soulful black woman starts grinding up on you, all you can do is grind back. Its truly the only acceptable course of action. And when she reaches around for your junk? Well, you better hope that the previously mentioned grinding has had the appropriate (read: deflating) effect on the package. Otherwise you could be in for some trouble.
3) To be considered worth a second look by women at a Winchester bar, you must be wearing a hat. Preferably with a nascar number on it or the letters "VT". God help you if you are using it to cover up your baldness, though.
Those are the distilled facts garnered from my night on the town. I could provide more in the way of narrative, but I think that those points really highlight much of what I learned out there. I will be sure to post more findings once my research develops further.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
