The Cruise

Hola, amigos. What's up? I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but it's summer and I haven't been home a whole lot lately.

My birthday last Friday was a lot of fun, even if Mel 2 wasn't able to join the festivities, damn her. I took the day off work, got an eye exam and a haircut, bought some new duds, and washed my truck. Then Grr, DJ Freeball, Mari, Lisa (this post's for you), Dannyboy, and Matt came over and we drank beers on the deck, before going to Grizzly Peak, where we met Adam, Sierra, and Dr. Nick, and enjoyed my free birthday dessert, pint glass, and $10 gift certificate. Then we came back to the deck and proceeded to, uh, get decked.

Saturday was the official grand opening party at the Corner Brewery… but I'll let Grr tell that story. And Sunday, of course, was Father’s Day so I went to my bro's house and had dinner with the folks.

Work's been really busy this week. Buncha people laid off at the home office, but so far my indispensability is still recognized among the Powers That Be. Other than that, been taking care of a co-worker's three cats while she's out of town all week and trying to stay on top of domestic chores. My own cats are slobs and I'm constantly cleaning up after them.

Thursday night I saw Mel 2 again, and it turned into as big of a drunkfest as it was the first time. It's not intentional; it just happens she is really fun to talk to and we do most of our talking at bars. I assume she feels the same since she didn't go home until around 4 in the morning. Turns out she is a big Bukowski fan, to boot. She keeps surprising me, and I have to admit to liking her quite a lot. Super cute, well read, and a bit of a smartass attitude is the jackpot combination in the world of Dave. I just need to figure out how to make a move so I don't end up becoming nothing more than her pal. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but, you know… did I mention she's super cute?

Friday I was late for work. Very late. Fortunately, I don't think anyone really noticed. Today I'm going to German Park, and tomorrow is the Bahaus/Nine Inch Nails concert at Pine Knob. So I won't get a damn thing done this weekend either. I suck.

Anyway, here's a bunch of pictures from a lot of this stuff. Enjoy.

Stupid Beer News

Check out this German site that demonstrates about 1000 different ways to open a beer bottle.

Do You Know What It Means...

I booked my flight to New Orleans in July, which promises to be hotter than Hell in June. This will be first post-Katrina trip down there, and thanks to Alan I'll save a bunch of money I'd otherwise spend on a hotel. That's money better applied to food, drink, and other debauchery.

Not that it sounds like I'll need to spend a whole lot on that stuff, either. Some friends of friends are getting married and throwing a pre-wedding party as well as hosting a reception that I've heard promises to turn into a block party. Should be a good time in the Big Easy, as it always is. A bit messier, no doubt. But the National Guard will be there to keep the arguments over beer from getting out of control...

The Big Three-Five

Today is a birthday;
Everyone is smoking cigars;
He's got a chain of flowers
And sews a bird in her knickers,
OHHH-ohhh-ohhh...

Ann Arbor vs. Ann Arburb

Yesterday on the drive home from work, I was reflecting on how my opinion of Ann Arbor has changed somewhat now that I've lived here for nearly two years. Specifically I was thinking its crazy-left-hippie-commie-liberal reputation may have once been deserved, but that these days Ann Arbor isn't really that much different in tone from the rest of Southeast Michigan.

That was precisely the moment I had to brake as a dude with a purple mohawk crossed the street in front of me.

OK, so maybe Ann Arbor still is a little different from the 'burbs. Thankfully.

Hell Update

It seems the authorities in Hell were a little annoyed by the 10,000 idiots who showed up to party on 6/6/06 and want to make it clear that a permit is needed for groups of over 500. Uh, whatever. Like that many people will ever go there again.

In related news, the Michigan Legislature passed a bill to repeal the motorcycle helmet law, a move that will surely make most of the 10,000 people who were in Hell happy. The governor has threatened to veto it, however.

Random link: Can you solve... the Norman Rockwell Code?

Somewhere Between Damnation and Retardation

Right. Lots of people talked about observing 6/6/06, AKA Devil's Day, National Day of Slayer, etc. But Steve and I actually did something about it. We went straight to Hell. And we enjoyed the ride.

The Road to Hell

It was the culmination of a dream. In high school, we joked about going to Hell ("Go to hell!" "Hell, Michigan?"), as so many other Southeastern Michigan youths did and no doubt continue to do. Now, 20 years later, we weigh more and have less hair but are still essentially immature teenagers at heart. So when we heard about the whole 6/6/06 thing in Hell, we knew it was finally time to make the dream a reality. It took all of 24 hours from me emailing Steve about it to us hitting the road in his convertible, top down and blasting Slayer while giving the "devil sign" to one confused pedestrian after another. Ah yes, we were back in high school.

Hell's Idiots

We had a nice ride out into the country, me riding shotgun with a copy of Tucker Max's "I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell," but as we got closer to our destination we noticed an increasing volume of motorcycle traffic. "Whoa, Hell's Angels?" we asked, then looked at the riders more closely. "Uh, no, more like Hell's Idiots," I said. I've never understood the biker thing, either the aesthetic or the "lifestyle." Nor had any idea how many of them there were in Michigan. But we were about to find that out, big time.

When we drew near, the magnitude of this thing became clearer. Cars were backed up on the narrow road leading into town. People strolled in both directions, to and from, carrying coolers. Some of them had children in tow. ("Come on, kids! We're going to Hell to celebrate Satanic numerology!") The car in front of us had Georgia plates. We parked on the side of the road, smartly turned around facing the "bat OUT of Hell" position, and proceeded to walk toward whatever was waiting for us.

Dante, Call Your Office

In a word: Bikers. And a shit-ton of them. Motorcycles everywhere, whether parked or rending the air with their crackling, chugging wails. Men with scruffy grey beards, ponytails, tattoos, beer guts. Women with bleached hair and saggy boobs proudly displayed through low-cut tank tops. Not my favorite demographic, and definitely not what we were expecting.

But hey, to each his own. There were also plenty of other types there. Parents with kids; ordinary "tourist" looking guys in shorts, dark socks, and Hawaiian shirts; old ladies; hotties; fatties; you name it. The place was literally crawling with thousands of people from obviously different socioeconomic circles, all united in the common goal of being involved in something really stupid yet undeniably funny.

To my great disappointment, however, there were precious few people in costume. I was hoping for more of a Mardi Gras feel, but it was still quite emphatically a Midwestern affair.

Downtown Hell

Hell's main drag is basically three buildings, Hell Country Store & Spirits (which is also the post office), Screams Ice Cream, and the Dam Site Inn, each of which had an enormous line leading into it. Steve got in the Hell Country Store line while I investigated the rest of the surroundings and took some pictures, including one of the inevitable fundie protestor/evangelist. In front of the Dam Site Inn, a comely but unfriendly lass was selling cans of beer. Of course, this being Hell, all she had was Bud, Bud Light, and Miller Lite. Even in Hell, I couldn't bring myself to drink Bud, so two Miller Lites it was.

The evil influence of Hell took over, and Steve drank his first "beer" in more than five years. As we got to the front of the line, a sign warned us that consuming alcoholic beverages on premises was unlawful -- though apart from a couple sheriff's deputies and state cops, there didn't seem to be much law -- so we slammed the Millers. It took all the control I could muster to not throw up. Once inside, we saw the line snake through the store, around all the chips, wine, beer, grocery items, stupid souvenirs, and up to the counter. We decided on a bag of Snyder's of Hanover Honey Mustard and Onion Pretzel Pieces for dinner and two oil cans of Labatt's Blue. Now it really was like we were back in high school. I augmented my meal with a Slim Jim, and we also got two Hell fridge magnets.

Tea in the Sahara, Beer in Hell

We picked a spot in front of the ice cream place to have our impromptu picnic and watch the parade of dorks and weirdoes going by, speculating on where all these people came from. People walked around carrying six- and 12-packs of beer under their arms, monster trucks drove the main street back and forth, cans littered the ground, and a vaguely surreal atmosphere settled around us in the warm evening. Toward dusk, we decided it was probably about time we got the hell out of Hell. So, after stealing a cooler some kids left near me -- for safekeeping? They misjudged if so -- we headed back to the car, queued up the Dio, and peeled out of there, laughing maniacally. Or demonically. Whatever.

Back in Ann Arbor, we decided a "proper" dinner at the Fleetwood would be the perfect end to the evening. No fights broke out, but I still think our instincts were right.

The Moral of the Story

I don't really have any Tom Wolfe–style socio-satirical lesson to impart. Steve and I finally got to go to Hell. There, we saw a little piece of America that one usually doesn't see. A fact for which one is generally grateful.

Amen, brothers and sisters, go in peace -- and see more pics here.

Drinking Ann Arbor

Two recent events suggest I've reached a new level in my career as a local drunkard.

One was when the owner of one bar I frequent saw me in another bar I frequent... and bought me drinks. Cheers, Gordo, you da man.

The other is when I ran into a dude who was super friendly and knew me by name, but who I didn't recognize. Actually, I ran into him twice the last two days. He stopped me on the street at the Taste of Ann Arbor yesterday, but since I was engaged in an activity that was six kinds of illegal -- involving the delivery of a beer to a girl who isn't old enough to drink -- I sort of brushed him off, not wanting to loiter on the street during the commission of multiple misdemeanors. I saw him again tonight at Arbor Brewing, and after a few minutes it finally registered on me who he was: The bartender from Grizzly Peak who served me during my now-infamous drunken first date with Mel 2. I guess I made a good impression on him while totally bombed out of my mind.

Why do I ever stay sober? No one likes me then.

P.S. The fact that my first date with Mel 2 involved closing two bars and then coming back to my place for gin and tonics can only mean that this is a pretty cool chick. Here's to you, Mel 2.

Tasting Ann Arbor

Yesterday was "Taste of Ann Arbor... and the rest of the world," a street fair that features booths manned by the town's many unique restaurants like Mongolian Barbeque, Buffalo Wild Wings, and... oh, wait. Maybe that's the "rest of the world" part. I ate some beef cous-cous dish from Vinology. I think it was good, but I actually can't taste a thing since I'm getting over a cold. Bitter, bitter irony. Speaking of bitter, I spent most of my event tickets drinking Huxell at Arbor Brewing. That's a taste of Ann Arbor I'm always glad to have.

More pointless photos here.

Devil Bunnies! I Snort the Nose, Lucifer!

Wondering what to do tomorrow, June 6, 2006, AKA 6/6/06?

Go to Hell. They're having a party to celebrate the Day of the Beast. And don't forget to bring your Slayer.

At the Corner in Hip-silanti

The Corner Brewery, Matt and Rene Greff's new venture, opens to the public today. Last night they hosted a sneak-peek event for celebrities like me and all my cool friends. Some of the usual Arbor suspects were on tap: the IPA, the alt, Red Snapper, and the hefe. They also had a blonde ale, which was what I drank. It was quite good, because, as you know, gentlemen prefer blondes. And I'm nothing if not a gentleman.

Anyway, run out there tonight with the rest of the plebes if you want to check out the opening of a cool new brewery. (The address is 720 Norris.)

Two cautionary notes. I arrived on the late side last night, so the beer garden had already become the mosquito garden. Insect repellent is advised if you expect to hang around outside after dusk.

And why would you want to hang around outside? Because the acoustics inside the brewery are just plain terrible. It's a converted warehouse, so the inside is all brick and glass and metal -- nothing to absorb sound. Be prepared to shout and be shouted at if you talk to anyone.

At some point, I'm sure Matt and Rene will address the sound problem. In the meantime, raise a glass to Michigan's newest brewery and all the fine folks who helped bring it into being. Cheers!