Number of treats I ate at Taste of Saint Louis:
Empanada from Monarch (1. Enh. And I like Monarch, but this empanada was dry.)
Vegetable Samosa 1 (enh)
Crabcakes (2! Very good crabcakes. From God knows where.)
Bread PUDDING (1 huuuuuge HHHHOOOOTTTT ow! hunk. Good, with raisins, from Harvest. AND I think they serve savory bread puddings too)
Strawberry fondues from the Melting Pot (0 – Gary ate it. yawn.)
“Sliders” from somewhere (1. Gah. Soupy overcooked ribs. Surprisingly bad despite the good press they got.)
Pork Maui sandwich from L’Ecole Culinaire (1 bite, and Gary got the rest. The best thing there.)
Number of visits to make a deposit at the plastic palace of poo Port-a-Potty: 3. I did wash my hands after each time.
Number of dollars we gave the silver-spray painted human statue so she would play her snare drum for us: 3
Number of CDs we bought: 1, from Rose Hill Drive. I think that was their name. They inspired Gary to consider playing the bass.
Number of giant cinnamon buns Bowling for Soup winged out into the audience: 12
Number of giant wads of phlegm Puddle of Mudd HOCKED UP ONTO THE STAGE before we left: 2. It’s gross, and it’s unsafe. Did you not hear our side of the stage go “ewwww” every time, you did it, Puddle? Eventually the lead singer entirely covered his face with his hair and Gary and I snuck out. I mean, seriously, if you aren’t going to write lyrics worth listening to, just please don’t coat the stage with mucus.
And, since I sound like your grandmother anyway:
Number of toddlers up on their parent’s shoulders while their parents smoked pot: well, just one. But, still, come on. Please tell me this is generally considered unacceptable, giving your kid a contact high by putting them directly up into the pot cloud. Well, I guess it does make them more docile.
8 responses to “In Which We Prove We Were Fortunate in Not Having Attended Woodstock”
L’Ecole Culinaire? I live way down in the South and have never heard of what I’m sure is a lovely restaurant. But, and perhaps it’s just me, but I think I wouldn’t name a restaurant I wanted people to actually eat at, anything that looked or sounded remotely like E. Coli. Call me crazy (love your blog by the way).
Sounds like fun was had by all!
Oh, for the days when Jim Morrison just whipped it out on stage…I don’t think he ever spat on stage, though…
Katie (Hi Katie!) – I would never call a fellow brain-damaged person crazy! I’m looking forward to your blog – looks like you have all the drama down south. And, coupled with my numerous Port-a-Potty visits, you might be right about L’E-coli Culinaire.Sue – Well… at least we tried to have fun. Gary did keep telling me he saw deer roaming around downtown. Deer, geese and Segues.Becs – Well, I would accept a whip-out. I accepted the Bowling for Soup belches (I think it’s their signature). But belches don’t leave slime on the stage on which the guitarist is spinning on one foot. Seriously, go to Sauget if you intend to spit on stage. We don’t go for that downtown.
Palace of poo! I went to an event in Oregon this summer, where the Porta-johns were called “Honey Buckets.”
TasterSpoon – I’ve heard that term on Dirty Jobs, but not here in St. Loo. Let me tell you, those puppies are dark at night when you close the door.
Kathy: L’Ecole Culinaire is a culinary school (hence the name). It trains those people to who work in lovely restaurants.The craziest name in St. Louis for a restaurant is the Bosnian restaurant on Keokuk, called Grbic. I’ve always pronounced it Ger-bic. But I understand it’s pronounced Grib-ic, which sounds like something a frog would say. Small vowel to consonant ratios kill me.
Christy – I would have guessed Gerbic too, just because it sounds like they serve Gerbils.