There is a bar in Chicago's Wrigleyville neighborhood called Trader Todd's. The bar is owned in part by none other than Donald Gibb, otherwise known as Ogre from Revenge of the Nerds. Do you think he's related to the Gibbs of Bee Gee's fame, like maybe their manic depressive, weight-lifting brother who they employed as a bodyguard, only to learn that he was prone to flying off the handle and killing people? Okay, that's certainly not true, but I did once see Ogre in the bar, someone handed him a cell phone, told him the guy's name on the phone was Bill, and Ogre's all, "What's up Bill, you big neeee-eeeeeeerd!!!" That is a true story.
Trader Todd's is known for Ogre, karaoke, and nautical themes, but I mostly know it for the painkillers, a 3 shot pina colada type drink that knocks you on your ass like a right hand from Buster Douglass before he got horribly fat. I had one of them Sunday afternoon and I felt like each coconuty sip tripled my drunkness until I was not unlike Dudley Moore in Arthur 2: On the Rocks, wait, make that like Liza Minnelli twenty years after Arthur 2: On the Rocks. Get your ass to Trader Todd's and have a painkiller. If you go after a Cub's game, your ticket stub will get you a mess of free wings, but you might want to go with mild sauce, because if you're putting out that fire with painkillers, you'll find yourself Liza Minnelli-style in no time.
When I moved to Chicago I embraced all things Chicago (except the Cubs)... I usually do that when moving to a new city. I love to feel apart of the city I live in, it makes life a little better when home feels like home. So I learned to love Chicago style pizza... something I had never tasted until I decided to moved here. Yep. I am certainly disappointed that you cannot get a good NYC style thin crust in this town - but I can always take a trip to NYC.
I have gone out for pizza at a few different places in Chicago and I quickly learned to love Gino's East downtown (Ontario & Wells)... none of the other locations are that good. Yeah, it's a tourist magnet but the pizza is top notch and since it is downtown I rarely go. Well on Monday night a few of us met up at Gino's to take Loaf for his first slice of Chicago style pizza. It was mediocre at best. I was disappointed that my Gino's East fell short the one night I needed to it shine (bubble and steam). So I am dropping Gino's down in my top places to go for pizza in Chicago.
1. The Art of Pizza 2. Gino's East (only the one on Wells) 3. Giordano's 4. Lou Malnati's 5. Chicago's
This past Saturday (St. Patrick's Day) I finally went to the Liar's Club. It is a bit strange being part of a group of bloggers named after a place I've never been to. Now I can say I've been there... and had a great time.
LP, Cherry and the Aussie were there. Dr. Ken showed up a little later. Classy was a flake (lame... it was my first time!). And the highlights for me were meeting two new bloggers... K.I.D. attended which was fantastic, especially since she had to be on a plane early the next morning. What a trooper. And she is a PBR drinker... always a good choice. Loaf was there... he is visiting from London. The guy drinks straight vodka... much more of a man than me.
The 80's tunes were blasting (not all 80's tunes, but heavily 80's)... so much that with my damaged ear drums from my Austin trip I caught about 70% of each conversation. K.I.D. probably thought I was slow, but she humored me with conversation. And with Loaf's accent and funky English vocab I probably only caught 40% of those conversations. He was probably asking me if I do meth every day... and I was probably agreeing. Lovely.
Everyone was dancing except for me. K.I.D. told me a story about someone throwing up on her jacket at a bar, and there were so many drunk people at the Liar's Club that I just figured it would be smart if I stayed at the table and was Coat-Protector-Guy. There were a couple close calls, but no barf ever made it on to any of the coats. I did my job well.
A great time at the Liar's Club. A good time with friends. And a good time meeting new people. My only complaint is that beer is way too expensive. Fat Tire was $5 a pint. Too much.
I was on the Belmont Bus last night sitting right next to three gutter punks. They had the look down. Two had grown-out messy mohawks. All three has the black zip-up hoodies with all of their patches sewn on with visible white stitching making such bold statements of what bands they liked. They had the creepers and all black Chuck Taylors. They were so anti-establishment (yet completely conforming to something else). And then I caught a great part of their complex conversation:
Boy Punk: Do I look good in this shirt? Girl Punk #1: Yeah. Boy Punk: Really? You don't think this red shirt clashes with my pants? Girl Punk #1: No. Boy Punk: Are you sure? Girl Punk #1: Yes. You look hot. (followed by much face sucking)
Wow... so anti-establishment. What morons. I wish I could add the photo I took with my phone, but it did not come out. So you guys get the Punk Chipmunks.
When I am too lazy to plug in my ipod in my car for my less than ten minute commute, my radio dial is usually tuned to one of two stations: the Drive 97.1 or Love FM 100.3. These two stations are also on my radio in the bathroom and help me to get in the mood to a)help poor people or b)forget about helping poor people.
I reserve this blog for all the wonderfulness of the Drive. First of all, they have barely any commercials in the morning, it's all tunes. When it isn't tunes, there's a really relaxing DJs voice, usually Bob Stroud, who has some wonderful feature segments, like the "Ten at Ten" where he highlights ten songs from a year. One of my personal favs? 1975. This Ten featured not only Fleetwood Mac, but BTO, Bad Company, the Eagles, Crosby & Nash, and Steely Dan.
Another feature is One 45 at 1:45. Now, you might be asking yourself, umm, does this girl work if she can hear the Ten at Ten and the One 45 at 1:45? Well, that's none of your business. I'm a slave to the tunes. Every once in awhile the Drive will also feature full sides of vinyl. If you don't think that listening to a whole side of Boston's self-titled debut is worth your time, well then there is something wired incorrectly in your brain.
So, tomorrow another feature is in full effect on the Drive. The Thursday Artist Portrait, and oh yes, it's a doozy. It features two that were well immersed in the fantastic genre of Blue Eyed Soul, Joe Cocker and Rod Stewart. I will be busy working, but you know I'm going to catch at least five songs by each of these gentleman over some part of the day.
I will also leave you with the awesomeness of Yacht Rock, which highlights the struggles of those involved in the Blue Eyed Soul Movement of the 70s & 80s.
From Thursday's Tribune, a lawsuit filed by some guy to the Jade Dragon Tattoo & Body Piercing on Belmont. He went in for a "Chi-Town" tat and came out with "Chi-Tonw."
I don't feel sorry for any of these idiots, especially the victim Michael Duplessis. No self-respecting Chicagoan goes around saying "Chi-Town" to describe our city. Sorry, they don't. Only tourists, obnoxious radio DJs and meat-head Wrigleyville frat boys who grew up in the suburbs say "Chi-Town."
I was hoping for a photo of the hilarious fuck-up, but apparently Duplessis is shy about showing it. At least he's smart about that. UPDATE: Here's a photo:
That title is what my dad called the Chicago Cubs when I was growing up. He'd come home from work and say, "What did The God Awfuls do today?" He also called the New York Mets the "Eviiiile Mets," which would more than likely have that exact spelling.
This weekend, I'm going to a Cubs spring training game and bachelor party in sunny Arizona. There will be lots of baseball, beer, and God willing, a donkey sniffing cocaine.
Let me ask you this? How tacky would it be to go to this bachelor party in Arizona, and then blow off the wedding in North Carolina? To be honest, I can barely afford to go to both, and I'm not allowed to bring a date to the wedding. Readers, your thoughts?
There is a bar in Chicago's Wrigleyville neighborhood called Trader Todd's. The bar is owned in part by none other than Donald Gibb, otherwise known as Ogre from Revenge of the Nerds. Do you think he's related to the Gibbs of Bee Gee's fame, like maybe their manic depressive, weight-lifting brother who they employed as a bodyguard, only to learn that he was prone to flying off the handle and killing people? Okay, that's certainly not true, but I did once see Ogre in the bar, someone handed him a cell phone, told him the guy's name on the phone was Bill, and Ogre's all, "What's up Bill, you big neeee-eeeeeeerd!!!" That is a true story.
Trader Todd's is known for Ogre, karaoke, and nautical themes, but I mostly know it for the painkillers, a 3 shot pina colada type drink that knocks you on your ass like a right hand from Buster Douglass before he got horribly fat. I had one of them Sunday afternoon and I felt like each coconuty sip tripled my drunkness until I was not unlike Dudley Moore in Arthur 2: On the Rocks, wait, make that like 
Liza Minnelli twenty years after Arthur 2: On the Rocks. Get your ass to Trader Todd's and have a painkiller. If you go after a Cub's game, your ticket stub will get you a mess of free wings, but you might want to go with mild sauce, because if you're putting out that fire with painkillers, you'll find yourself Liza Minnelli-style in no time.
