Grace, Beauty, and a subtle lisp

No, the title of this post has nothing to do with what I have to say.

Yet another long socialite night in the life of Brian. Drinks, afterparties, and a beautiful coincidence that ended in Gabe, ShyGI, and myself huddling over a plate of Chinese at 5 in the morning while the intended consumer of said Chinese laid passed out in his room. LOL Oh liquor... you so crazy.

It was a sight.

Anyway, todays update is about Ceviche Tapas Bar. And anyone who knows me knows I have nothing but high praises for this - one of my many favorite restaurants.

So, as Ive been there so many times I feel Ive gotten a decent feel for the entire Ceviche empire. They seem to only hire beautiful people, and the uniform is anything black. All black, with accents of black. The restaurant level has 2 areas, 1 inside and 1 outside. Both having so many tables in such close proximity that Ive been tempted to use a super straw to steal their delicious Sangria. The staff always seem to have an air of pretentiousness, and god help you if you get one of the foreign ones. They always seem to act as if serving you is a complete and utter interruption to their lives. (Especially this one blonde bitch. But I dont know her name.) Anyway, the only warmth youll get is from the Host/Hostess and the food runners. But in lieu of the Gucci ad going on all around, you are surely in for a great food experience.

The menu features a nauseating amount of both cold and caliente tapas ranging from reasonable to absurd. (My faves are Papas Bravadas, calamari, pollo al jarez, and the veal meatballs [the baby cow's suffering is palpable]) However, LET THIS BE KNOWN.

PROTIP: Most of the aforementioned tapas are available for a delectable price of $4 on 'Tapas Teusdays' where they feature a limited selection of tapas and $4 glasses of both white and red sangria. AKA GET CRUNK.

There is also a lovely bar level downstairs, accessible from both within the restaurant and outside where frequently Jazz bands jam out while you mingle with yet another sea of beautiful people. (Wear nice clothes, you bummy piece of trash.) The cocktails are strong, the music is good, and if youre lucky enough, the women are wearing short skirts. Or in my case the men wearing tight pants. (only good thing about hipsters.)

Located just a little ways from the bar block downtown you can continue the party long after the sangria kicks in! YAY!


So if you're looking for a atmosphere where you feel slightly unwelcome, and are willing to put up with that for a fantastic meal, check out Ceviches. Cuz I fuckin' said so.

Steve Westphal and the Restaurateur's Stone

I was invited to the Steve Westphal Christmas party. And oh what a party. Free draft beer, free house wine, and free food. I didnt gorge myself, although the Bowtie Pasta was strangely DELICIOUS.

Westphal owns Parkshore grill, 400 Beach, The Hangar, and I think something else. With plans to open a Bistro soon. This man is the God of the St. Pete dining scene, and for whatever reason, its become an obsession that I work for him. I MUST. Its like those stupid fan-boy employees of Starbucks, and thats all they talk about. And trust me, once I do work for him, I will DEFINITELY be a huge fanboy douchebag.

Otherwise, bad day. Hangover. Heartache. And Health issues. (Yay invincible sinus infection!)

Although I DID get my mommy something special I think she'll like. So we shall seeeeeeee.

Linebacker Trannies

Theres something so amusing about straight people seeing a tranny for the first time that warms my heart.


This is Stephanie. She is the size of a fucking linebacker. And of course there's Gabe. But I cant help but love the fusion of hetero-terror and homosexual fixation on seducing straighties. If I were a demon that feeded on emotion, awkward would be my ambrosia. And oh let the awkward flow when someone who's never seen a tranny sees Stephanie. Priceless.

As everyone knows, my original intention was to review bars and restaurants, but when money is tight, its hard to eat out and be fabulous. So I choose to spend most of my time/money at Georgies. And who hasn't been waiting for that review, eh? Ill have to put on my thinking cap and do some research -AHEM- in the field.

So what kind of person does it make me when Im up until 4 and asleep until 3 in the afternoon. Its like summer in high school, except more alcohol. Oh thats right, a piece of crap. What a beautiful life.

Gainfully employed?

So, I didnt know this, but apparently when the temperature drops below 60 degrees, the first thing to pop into peoples heads is Irish Coffee. I sold so many god damn Irish Coffees last night I was sure I was going to pour it in someones face. Quite frankly, I dont necessarily mind the Irish thing, but the coffee, and then the whipped cream, and then theyre all like "Oh, can I get some sweet and low?" BURN IN HELL.

One fact of serving that I neglected to realize when I began working at my restaurant was that if your legs rub together even a little bit, you will have chaffing that will rival the burn of muriatic acid. Its less your legs rubbing together, and more your clothing get all caught up in there, and rubbing on your skin. So around hour 4, youre like "Oh christ, thats gonna suck later." Then a bit later, youre debating whether or not your still going out, cuz you know youll be standing with your legs too far apart to be discreet. My brother and I affectionately refer to this as 'The Ninja" cuz thats how you walk when it happens. Like youre about to pounce on some unsuspecting granny.

YOUR KARATE IS NO MATCH FOR MY DOWN'S-KWON-DOH!

Ohhhh.... thats just low... tee hee.

Inside the actors studio questions

1. What is your favorite word? Warmth
2. What is your least favorite word? Worthless.
   
3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Simple words communicating massive ideas
   
4. What turns you off? Ignorance, people with closed minds
5. What is your favorite curse word? Bastard
   
6. What sound or noise do you love? Simultaneous uproarious laughter.
   
7. What sound or noise do you hate? The sighs after crying
   
8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Psychologist
   
9. What profession would you not like to do? Doctor
   
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? Sorry about that hangover glitch, we solved that here.
    

"Write drunk, edit sober." -cant remember.

Sucker Punch

If one is to look back at the scandals in gay history, it always makes gay people seem so completely slutty. But lets be honest, two dudes, all randy all the time. Its bound to be a free-for-all, right? Well, this is why I am very understanding of you breeders out there being wary of the gay bars. Ive had my girl friends ask me on more than one occasion "am I allowed in?" To which I usually reply with uproarious laughter, and then tell them the possibility of being stoned is around 50-50. Anyway. Let alone Larry Craig and George Michael gettin' down in the bathroom, there are oodles of ads on craigslist showing exactly how deranged some people can be sexually. So, long story long, my friend Shy-GI was peeing at the bar the other day, and some dude next to him said "Let me see it." And Shy-GI said, "no." and was immediately sucker punched (not hard at all.) but none the less. In the middle of a pee? Thats such a terribly cheap shot. And quite frankly, if youre so enraged by me not wanting to show you my flaccid penis, you obviously have bigger issues than not getting laid.

The culprit was never apprehended, however, everyone at the bar including management and security is completely pissed. Feels good to know they love us.

Work has been absolutely awful, at least in monetary gains that is. I dont know what it is about people with kids, but apparently you pop out a few shit-storm babies, and you completely forget what a decent tip is. Do you KNOW I make 4.23 an hour? Yea. And your little oops-baby is SCREAMING for more ketchup in lieu of the Lake Superior-Heinz they have created on their plate. And I swear to god if I have to pick up another pile of food that your pissbucket decided was better off as puree, I will mash it into your face with merciless vengeance. Next time your husband is too lazy to get condoms at 2 am after the bar, hand him the Victoria's Secret ad and roll over for christ sake. Im tired of dealing with your mistakes.

That is all.

These things take forever

So, almost the semesters end, and no relief is awashin' over me. So for now? Funny pictures.






I was also feeling emo, but I decided my estrogen fueled insecurity-filled rants should be restricted to my pink frilly diary.

Harry Potter and the Cristal premiere

So, yet another rousing day of work. First table as soon as I get there? 12 people, 8 kids. Shit storm of obnoxious kids and apathetic parents. Thanks American parenting, really raising the bar.

Well, after my underwhelming evening at the restaurant, I decided I needed some Daniel Radcliffe in my life (as if Equus wasnt enough...) so I gathered up the ladies, and hit the movie theater. How was it? Eh. Good, but I want EPIC MAGICAL BATTLES! And received none
GET IT DUMBLEDORE.... GET IT.

Commendable acting on the part of that raging bitch Umbridge. No matter how awful her character is, she plays it so well that if I saw her on the street Id stone her like Hester Prynne.
Also, as Im sitting in the Regal cinema theater, enjoying Radcliffe be awkward and attractive in a ratio that requires a license-to-charm, suddenly I hear a most familiar noise. -POP- "Is that champagne?" Yes. In the 12:40 showing of Harry Potter, some bitch decided it was a fine time to bust out some mutha truckin' Cristal, and get it poppin' up thur in Regal. Thanks Pinellas Park, keep it classy.

And btw, can we talk about this? : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4zw99VsoMA

Yea, its OMG IS THAT CONDENSED MILK? But I think, Im gonna make it. Im intrigued how a cup of sugar ended up in this womans macaroni salad recipe. For real. Im just glad to see this big girl is out there keepin' it real.

An Ode to Education

Ah yes, the familiar rush of the end-of-semester shitstorm. Where professors assume they do you a favor by making projects due the last week of class, they are actually cackling like [I imagine...] Daumer cackled, as they shift the calendar, single handedly condemning me to yet another visit to panicattackville.

Then of course theres the "Grand Finale Project" that professors who are new to teaching a particular course LOVE to come up with. Its like their working us in a sweatshop, conducting our Nike sewing into a crescendo of tears and uncertainty.

Take for instance, my class: The professor decided FIRST to make us 'spotlight' someone in the community who does meaningful things without recognition. COOL. STORY. BRO.

Then, during the last few weeks, comes flying at us like a Jap on Pearl Harbor, she decides she wants a portfolio of our work throughout the semester. And OH WHATS THAT?! Design it to look like a newspaper or a book or something! WOULDNT THAT BE FUN?!??! Bitch, this isnt magazine design.

May the fleas of a million hobos infest your relaxer burnt weave you wretched, sinister woman.

Good Ol' Mastrys...

So, I stopped going to Mastry's Cocktails about 6 months ago. In part because I truly despise leaving a bar and smelling like a half-burnt cigarette, but also because there is a 100% probability that you will be thoroughly creeped out before the night is through. And against my better judgment, I decided to brave the crowd there once more.

Mistake #1: Leaving the Independent, where good beer and good times are served simultaneously.

So I arrive at Mastry's via the rape- I mean, back-alley. Now, here is where I must admit, mastry's never fails to impress: Liquor is ubiquitously cheap. My premium vodka beverage was $5 even. Whereas at my typical watering holes, is at LEAST $7-$7.50. So priase you, Jay Mastry, for knowing how to appeal to my wallet above all else.

Mistake #2: Expecting that it should take less than 5 minutes to be served even though the bar wasnt even in the same zip-code as busy.

After an anonymous cougar attempted in vain to solicit the bartenders with her busty charms, I finally got my drink and proceeded to mingle with -- oh, thats right. Myself. Thank God I brought my tried and true drinking buddy Donnie along for the ride. So while we scanned the room with palpable disappointment, we decided to join my brother and his friends out back.

Mistake #3: Thinking that out back would be any better. (It does, and will forever and always, smell like fresh vomit out back of Mastry's.)

Forget the trash compactor that is less than 5 feet from the back patio, at least that smell fades like the stench of Venice after a few minutes. But, no... this... This is a most sinister and wretched funk so potent that even hobos avoid its plume of terror. Im wholly convinced that each and every time, we have some sequin-clad college neo-yuppie to thank for this. Thanks ladies, for always raising the bar on holding your liquor.

Highlights!
Once Donnie and I swagged a booth, we made with the chit-chat and within almost no time at all, the creeping began. A younger dude, that had to have been rolling on Tampa Bay's finest disco biscuits came stumbling over to our table, and proceeded to babble incoherently at us until the music distracted him enough that he just danced beside our table in blissful rock-bottomness.

Conclusion: Dont touch anything. Or talk to anyone you dont know. And you should probably pick up a smoking habit so you can retaliate every time someone blows their cancer in your face. But, like the rest of us standing around the bar waving money in hopes our $20 is somehow greener and shinier than the guy next to us, youll be back. Because the drinks have an inexplicable cost/strength ratio that you simply cant say no to.

See you Thursday, bitches.