Coulrophobia refers to an abnormal and persistent fear of clowns
Saturday, March 27th — So I made it over to Don Pablos for a pre-birthday bash dinner with friends. I hadn’t eaten at this chain mexican restaurant in years. Now I remember why. The food is forgettable and the portions are too large. I’ll say their salsa is good enough, but that’s it. From here on out, Chipotle it will be.
Between eating too many chips and lamenting the lack of cilantro rice, there were clowns milling around the restaurant. Painting the faces of kids who immediately smeared them into Tammy Faye (bless her colon) crossed with Alice Cooper. Then they’d go around and make these phallic balloon hats and put them on yuppie women on a Girls Gone Wild bender. Complete with fancy skirts but sans flashing. Perhaps that would come later.
Speaking of later, I met up with a bar full of friends, pre-celebrating ‘lil “Sex Toys” Kate’s birthday. It was like a reunion as some folks happened to be visiting in town from Asheville, NC.
Super Dooper Fun. Along with a great jukebox (old pc + winamp behind the bar), I found that Blue Moon beer from Coors gives Fat Tire a run for the money. Aside from being available on this side of the Mississippi, it gets fancy treatment with orange wedge.
Dave Matthews, damn his continued spiral into softrock blandness, came up in a quote that sums up the evening mighty fine: “Turns out not where but who you’re with that really matters.“