Killing Time At A Wing Joint

I went into some joint on New Garden the other day called Wings & Bling (the wings weren't so great, but I liked the place okay). Anyway, the UNC/NCSU game was on and Sid Lowe was rocking the pimp coat. There was this Heels fan sitting behind me - a bigger guy who was very displeased with Larry Drew for most of the game. And even though I could have cared less who won the game, I was talking to this Heels fan about their offensive woes. And he was venting something fierce for the 1st half. So I asked him what his expectations were before the season started. And he replied "Not last place in the ACC." I told him he had a point there. No doubt about that.

Later Brandon stopped in Wings & Bling and we were amazed at the number of kids (by kids I mean in the 7-10 year old range) in the bar area at 10 at night. They were all wearing UK jerseys (the Cats were playing the Vols at the time). So at one point I asked one of these jersey wearing UK kids how to spell Kentucky. The kid looked down at his jersey and managed to spell it correctly. I was impressed enough to note to the kid that he was smarter than the UK players themselves, because as I mentioned on this blog last week, most of them apparently believe they play for something called Kentcuky. The kid looked at me like I was crazy. Then his mother comes over and tells him to sit back down with the other kids and not to talk to strange drunks in bars. I informed this UK mom that she was right about that, but that the best way to insure that her son not talk to strange drunks at 10 at night in a bar, is to, you know, not bring her son into a bar at 10 at night. That would pretty much solve the problem right there. This UK mom didn't like what I had to say at all. As she was walking back to her table to sit with about 7 other UK moms, I did manage to yell this in her direction, "Can you get me Ashley Judd's phone number?"

They were showing the Olympics on 1 of the TV's in the Wings & Bling. And I have very little interest in the Olympics at all. One of the guys in the bar seemed keenly into short track speed skating (Greensboro is the home of Joey Cheek) and was chanting "USA, USA!" So I started chanting "Korea, Korea!" It was pretty amusing - at least for me...

Warning! New feature on this blog: Wine Review - Pinotage from South Africa. When I was informed that such a thing exists, I asked "Did you say Penis Tog? Do they make wine from fermented semen in South Africa?"

I was back out at Wings & Bling killing time yesterday and a guy to my left was talking about the big auto race on Fox. There was some delay to the race because of pot holes or something. Anyway, this guy was nice enough and I guess fairly knowledgeable on NASCAR (me, I know almost nothing about it - except for my man Bowyer). So, this guy informed me and an awesomely cool girl who was also hanging out that his wife had dropped him off to drink while she ran some errands (there is a huge Target nearby). And both this awesome girl (her name is Tammy) and myself were kind of waiting for this NASCAR fan's wife to show up. It's always interesting to hear a guy talk about his spouse. You get a certain image in your head of what the woman might look like. Rarely do you get a chance to see how close you might be to right. But Tammy and I got that chance yesterday. We'd been talking with the guy about an hour and then he bolted up and ran to a table behind us. Sure enough, his wife was there. And she was a bigger gal, pretty ugly, and wearing these unflattering sweat pants out in public on a Sunday afternoon. Both Tammy and I were a little surprised by this wife's appearance. It goes to show that you never can tell who a nice random guy at a bar might be sharing his life with just by talking to him for awhile. The funniest part about the whole thing is that this nice guy and his chubby, sweatpants wearring, stringy haired wife sat at the table behind us for a couple more hours after the wife came in. Only the guy we'd been talking to about NASCAR and whatever didn't acknowledge us again the entire time. My guess as to why he didn't acknowledge us again is because he didn't want his homely looking bride to know that he'd been chatting with Tammy for awhile. Because Tammy is way hotter than this guy's wife ever was or will ever be. And the difference in body types between the 2 could not have been more pronounced. So this nice NASCAR guy didn't want to catch any shit from his wife for talking to a woman who was so infinitely hotter than her. I don't really blame him I guess. My solution to that problem is don't ever get married in the 1st place. That way you can talk to and hit on and whatever with whoever you might meet in a wings joint on a Sunday afternoon. It seems pretty simple, doesn't it?

I got a couple comments after my post Saturday about the Seattle Sonics. One of them mentioned Bobby Swift. And I'm not sure who left the comment, but to whoever it was, I enjoyed that quite a bit. Thanks.

I know Valentine's Day was yesterday. And it's a completely fake "holiday" invented to get guys to pump money into the economy in the middle of winter at restaurants, Hallmark stores, lingerie joints, florists, and chocolate shops. Silly. Nothing says "I love you, honey" more than a stash of candy, dinner at a wing joint, some roses, and a crotchless teddy.

Half Angel

Half Tart