Baboon Pirates

Scribbles and Scrawls from an unrepentant swashbuckling primate.

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Location: Texas, United States

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

A Lengthy, Mostly Pointless Recap

Well, It Beats A Sharp Stick In The Eye...

In a perfect world, I'd effortlessly jot down 5000 words on my recent travels, edit it not a whit, and have it read like the perfect amalgamation of Wodehouse and Cheever. Millions of eager literati would flock to my blog for a daily dose of insouciant japery, and I'd revel in the knowledge that my blogad revenue for the week will cover my gambling losses at Monte Carlo.

Then, the NyQuil fog lifts for a bit and I realize I'm just another one of the 90% of blogs that are tainted with the aroma of unrefined bovine excrement.

Oh, well. Might as well press on.

Last week was a bit of a blur, really. Back at work for two days after Xmas, then the jaunt up to D/FW for a weekend of frivolity.

Despite my late start last Thursday, the trip up north proved mostly uneventful. Lots more roadkill than normal littered the highway, but given the rather dessicated state of the assorted flatcats and possumblossoms, I'll wager the increase was due to roadcrews being on vacation and not scooping them up, rather than any increase in vehicular-assisted suicide by furry critters.

Stopped for a pee break at a truck stop in Buffalo, with what had to be the filthiest bathroom in Texas. It's hard to say which was worse, the bloodstains around the toilet bowl, or the algae-encrusted stopped-up drain. I'd tell you which one it was, except that might deprive you of an interesting biological observation of your own.

I got a call from the Connecticut Yankee just as I was pulling into Tarrant County. Disliking trying to talk & drive, I shooed him off the phone, promising to call back after I was checked into the hotel.

The less said about the hotel, the better. Horrible place. Surly staff, indifferent service. How giving me, a solo traveler, two full-size beds instead of a king and considering it "doing me a favor" is sort of lost upon me.
Add to that the lack of maid service for 3 days, and being locked out not once but twice, and you have the sort of fleabag inn that makes traveling such a joy. "Quality" Inn & Suites, my bulbous ass...

I met Connecticut Yankee & the lovely and charming CY wife at old Mercado Juarez in Arlington for dinner. As longtime institutions go, Joe T's over in FW has weathered the years better than Mercado Juarez. It wasn't bad, but wasn't great either.

It was great to spend time with Connecticut Yankee again. He's got a gig applying scholastic paddles to privileged buttocks up at some ├╝ber-preppy private college up in Connecticut, and in spite of the years since I've seen him, it took about all of 5 minutes before we were back in rowdy college mode. We did an abbreviated pub crawl along Division St. for the remainder of the evening. He's talking about possibly relocating down here in the near future, which would be pretty damned cool.

Friday was spent sleeping late, then meandering all over Tarrant County looking for a cheap .38 revolver and a range bag. Neither one was located at a suitable price, so I pointed the PimpSled towards NW FW to go meet Rockhauler for dinner. After exchanging Xmas gifts and shooting the breeze for a while, we stopped to check out the new LIQ-O-RAMA!! booze shop near his place and pick up some libations. Good spot for buying hooch, but it needs about 5 more years of skeevy customers paying for rotgut vodka with purloined WIC cards before it picks up that air of disreputable clientele that all good licka sto's need.

We headed south on I-35, surreptitiously tugging on a pair of Jack Daniel's Lynchburg Lemonade pints. These were tasty in the 8 oz. version. The 16's will set your toes tingling! They ran out just as we hit The Keg, our destination for some grilled dead cow. I had a great shrimp cocktail, followed by the Sirloin Oscar, a big chunk of medium-rare meat topped with shrimp, scallops, asparagus and Bearnaise sauce. Damned tasty dinner!

Saturday, I slept in even later, got up and tuned into the USA Network's all-day Law & Order marathon for a bit. I considered calling up Connecticut Yankee to go shooting, but figured if I hadn't already heard from him (it was noon-ish) he already had a spousal-driven agenda happening. So, I went and got some BBQ for lunch (a disappointment, Bodacious BBQ has slipped quite a bit) then wandered over to Dallas County for more gun-hunting.

Came up dry at all the usual retail outlets for firearms. Plenty of new .38 revolvers, but the used stuff must have all been purchased as stocking-stuffers. Oh, well.

Stocked up on foodie treats for everyone at the Central Market over on Greenville Ave., then started the trek up into Carrollton. The New Year's Eve party was at a guy named Billy's house. He's a friend of Jenni, who was onboard as the co-host.

One thing about Jenni Parties, they never lack for an eclectic mix of guests! As an added bonus, most of the guests brought a variety of intoxicants with them, so there was no lack of ways to anaesthetize your gizzard.

When I got there Jenni was still getting breakfast prepped for the following morning. She was decked out in what we decided was 'diesel dyke trucker chick' apparel, which suited me fine. As far as I care, you could wrap her in a burlap sack, and she'd still be Jenni! She vetoed that idea, though, and went and got all girled up for the party.

There was a fairly decent crowd, ranging in ages from late teens to early 60's, from all possible backgrounds. The mysterious Vampire Twins from Jenni's wedding reappeared, (it was after dusk, so I guess they just flew in). Never did catch their names, but they were each rail-thin, with long dark waist-length hair and pale skin. They seemed to really like lurking in corners and looking morose, but I caught one smiling once or twice, so who knows. Maybe he just sucked the blood of a clown for dinner.

I had a pretty good time, but I think I liked it better earlier on, when there weren't as many people there and the smoky haze wasn't quite so thick. We had all sorts of smoked dead animals to feast upon, thanks to Billy's BBQ wizardry. Though I wished I could partake, there was definitely NOT any illegal herbage to settle your frazzled nerves, damn the bad luck! One partier showed off a wad of vegetation that was roughly the size and weight of good-sized pine cone, but according to DEA sources, it was just oregano. So, all you government lurkers can just fuck off back to your hidey-holes. Nothing illegal here!

Alas, there weren't a lot of females there that weren't already attached, or that batted for the other team. There was a catgirl wandering around, but I swore off those back in the late 90's. They're fun for a while, but then they start pestering you for airfare to Tokyo, and you're always finding anime DVDs in your disk drive and tofu in the toaster oven.

I had a great conversation with a woman that was 1/2 Irish & 1/2 Hawaiian, who managed to tell me most of her life's story in less than 15 minutes. In spite of the verbal barrage, she was attractive and seemed willing to listen to my tipsy tales as well. Something kept flicking my "DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!" switch though. Couldn't quite figure it out, until later in the evening when she took off her glasses for a minute. Damned if she wasn't the spitting image of my Mom, back before Mom was... Mom.

That sent me into a Freudian death-spiral for a while, needless to say. I managed to pull out at the last minute, put on a happy face and rang in the New Year with everyone else. Got smooched by a wide variety of attractive females, which helped matters immensely. Snuck out early to beat the drinks home, and managed to avoid all the checkpoint roadblocks. I was well under the legal limit, but who needs the hassle?

I was starting to really drag-ass on Sunday. All the secondhand smoke the night before was making things wheezy, and I was so wiped on the road home I stopped and slept for 2 hours at the rest area outside Corsicana. Once I was back in Houston, I had dinner with Mom & Dad, and got my yearly dose of black-eyed peas. Damned things never taste very good, no matter how much hot sauce goes on 'em.

So, there it is, friends & neighbors. El Capitan's grand adventure. It's even PG-13 and family friendly, damn it! One of these days I'll have one that's rated R.