My Saturday Night

A momentary departure from discussing sports...

Wifey, Brother of Wifey, and I went out in South Charlotte (or, as I dubbed it, SoShah) to a garden-variety strip mall sports bar. I had forgotten how memorable a regular old Saturday night at a bar can be.

1. I got hit on by a middle aged woman whom we dubbed "Boomer Esiason" because of her blonde mullet. She said that she was trying to see if I was single because she was there with her daughter, whom we graded immediately like catty women. In between white wines, she told us a joke about 90-year olds having sex and complained that people in the South just aren't as up front as they are in Cleveland, which is where she's from. For some reason, I didn't rip on Cleveland as "even worse than Detroit" like I normally do.

2. Every guy in the bar with a baseball cap was wearing it backwards. Damn you, Fred Durst and Junion Griffey. One of the Sugar Ray wannabes behind us was acting as a PA announcer for the Bobcats/Heat highlights going on on one of the screens. Amazingly enough, he pronounced Primo Brezec's name correctly.

3. I got my first exposure to a video jukebox. There's nothing quite as fun as drinking Maker's Mark while watching "Funky Cold Medina" and "The Humpty Dance" back to back.