An Irie Good Time & Elusive Joe
Happy birthday, Scoops. Tonight I joined Cheesy T and her man for his birthday dinner at Montego Bay. We ordered a round of the happy hour libation that had "Ecstasy" in the name, and I managed to suck down its pineapple-y banana-y coconut-y goodness before the waiter took our order. Liquid vacation. (The waiter, by the way, was roundly agreed to be mmm mmm good on the eyes.)
I'd taken wagers that Hungry Thom would order the goat. He has a thing for exotic meat. It was that, or the oxtails. I hooted and gave double rocker fingers of victory when he did, in fact, select the curried goat. Scoops ordered the oxtails, and there was fascinating discussion about whether this was, in fact, the actual tail, or if it was just a hind part of the ox. Regardless, there was, indisputably, a whole vertebra on his plate. Wow.
I had the Gunga Peas and a side of fried plaintains. After careful application of Scotch Bonnet sauce, it was just right. A good foil to the copy of Dirty Found 2 circulating around the table. This birthday present made its way toward me just in time for the seemingly 10-year-old busboy to catch a glance of gaping crotch polaroids. Jerk chicken and sexual awakening. Forever more, the rotisserie to that poor child will be like heavy ankles to R Crumb.
Coffee, like the weather, always comes up. I mentioned the new Stumptown Annex (can I call it a cupping room?) and both Hungry T and Scoops were eager to check it out. We three dashed across town in hopes that it might have late hours. Alas, closed and dark. Worse, upside-down stools in the Belmont Stumptown. And to round out the misery, after flying back across the bridge, an all-too-cheery "Closed early November 7th!" sign at the downtown Stumptown. We could see them having a staff meeting inside. I wanted to press my palms and nose against the glass and wail. Curses!
Where to get coffee without driving again? Hell, we'd even do Spanish coffees. Gilt Club: closed. Mother's bar: closed. Saucebox: closed. Brief talk of Shanghai Tunnel. Passed by Backspace, measured the too-hip factor, shrugged, and entered. Passable cafe au lait for me, "eh" coffee for Hungry T, fine macchiato for Scoops. Swept the chess pieces into the drawer and talked about whether rerouting gas pipe was an appropriate DIY project (verdict: no). Brief polling on the merits of Office Space (two yes votes) and Napolean Dynamite (posited opinion: funnier to talk about than to watch).
A really nice evening. And a Monday, no less.
I'd taken wagers that Hungry Thom would order the goat. He has a thing for exotic meat. It was that, or the oxtails. I hooted and gave double rocker fingers of victory when he did, in fact, select the curried goat. Scoops ordered the oxtails, and there was fascinating discussion about whether this was, in fact, the actual tail, or if it was just a hind part of the ox. Regardless, there was, indisputably, a whole vertebra on his plate. Wow.
I had the Gunga Peas and a side of fried plaintains. After careful application of Scotch Bonnet sauce, it was just right. A good foil to the copy of Dirty Found 2 circulating around the table. This birthday present made its way toward me just in time for the seemingly 10-year-old busboy to catch a glance of gaping crotch polaroids. Jerk chicken and sexual awakening. Forever more, the rotisserie to that poor child will be like heavy ankles to R Crumb.
Coffee, like the weather, always comes up. I mentioned the new Stumptown Annex (can I call it a cupping room?) and both Hungry T and Scoops were eager to check it out. We three dashed across town in hopes that it might have late hours. Alas, closed and dark. Worse, upside-down stools in the Belmont Stumptown. And to round out the misery, after flying back across the bridge, an all-too-cheery "Closed early November 7th!" sign at the downtown Stumptown. We could see them having a staff meeting inside. I wanted to press my palms and nose against the glass and wail. Curses!
Where to get coffee without driving again? Hell, we'd even do Spanish coffees. Gilt Club: closed. Mother's bar: closed. Saucebox: closed. Brief talk of Shanghai Tunnel. Passed by Backspace, measured the too-hip factor, shrugged, and entered. Passable cafe au lait for me, "eh" coffee for Hungry T, fine macchiato for Scoops. Swept the chess pieces into the drawer and talked about whether rerouting gas pipe was an appropriate DIY project (verdict: no). Brief polling on the merits of Office Space (two yes votes) and Napolean Dynamite (posited opinion: funnier to talk about than to watch).
A really nice evening. And a Monday, no less.
posted by miss tasty | 11/07/2005
1 Comments:
Ms. Tasty-
What a terific summary of the night, and you beat me to it. You are such a quick blogger. I am 3 entries behind!! Argh. Thanks for the excellent recap.
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