This is the real deal, folks. If you disagree, you obviously have not the powers of the bearer of thunder and lightning, nor the gentle powers of a storm demon who brings death and disease to your village. »Read More
I went out every night this week. I am in pain right now.
South Street. Mas. X Lounge. Blue Light. Ten. Escafe. Etc.
Here’s my latest take on the scene:
We have options. Every phone conversation planning the night resulted in, “I just named three bars, so you have to choose one.” Instead of just ordering my standard drinks, I looked at each of the latter restaurants’ cocktail menus as though I were seeing them for the first time. They’re long!
Service is strong. In Charlottesville, mediocre service stands out to me. I’ve come to expect great service.
Charlottesville is pricy. It just is.
Parking’s not that bad. Use either of the two garages instead of circling the blocks for parallel spaces.
The scene ends early on week nights. Even 216 had locked gates at 1:30 a.m. last night!
The coolest thing I read about was “Surrounded Islands,” inspired outdoor art exhibit, named “Let There Be Light” at PVCC. From 6PM to 9PM, this Friday ONLY, “Light-centered artworks illuminate the outdoors on the grounds surrounding the V. Earl Dickinson Building as the longest night of the year approaches.” Expect awesome outdoor light artwork. This is going to be really cool and it’s only tonight. Don’t miss it. We’re going. Read more at the DP.
You can go see the Christmas Carol at either the Paramount or the Blackfriar Theatre in Staunton. Or go, for something a little different. We’ve heard David Sedaris’ Santaland Diaries is pretty good. Check out one of his recordings after the break. The coolest thing about Blackfriar is they have a “pay what you can” price for most shows. Rock on!
Bars? What have you. As the weather gets colder, I prefer cozy, smaller and warm places. I’ll be switching my drinking habits to C&O, Court Square, Kiki and thunder mountain (you can’t get in, don’t ask).
While out walking the mintypup this evening I did a double-take passing the Carlton Center: although the table saws and lumber are still parked outside, the neon light was flashing “o-p-e-n”. I ventured in for a looky-loo, and was pleasantly surprised at what lay behind those brown kraft-papered windows.
Ok.. So, I’ll start with admitting a complete and deep shame for even posting this.
I’ve been on crutches for over 2 months now and up to this point, they have confined me to a bar-less lifestyle. I’ll probably be requiring them for at least another month or two. Now that my cast is off, I’m getting a bit stir crazy and need to have a little bar time to bring me back to level. Up to this point, my phobia has been trying to maneuver a packed bar on crutches and getting knocked off-balance, or even possibly forgetting about the whole broken foot thing myself and trying to stand up normally. Either one could reset the clock and get me back in a cast, or God forbid… back into surgery. The question that I pose to you is this:
Where are some bar suggestions that consist of as few floors/levels as possible?
It’s hard to say I’m sorry. But I’m sorry. If you have not been to Mas in the past couple of months because of my criticism veiled in sexual metaphor eight months ago, I want you to know that Mas and I are back on, after all that we’ve been through.
Hot and heavy.
I mean that literally this time. My servers warn against handling the plates when they arrive because they are hot, and also heavy. Also, we recently ordered a variation on a rilleno in which two spicy poblano peppers were stuffed with turkey and breading and grilled, then placed over a rich but delicate cream sauce– it was very hot and heavy. The carne asada too. Perfect, no exaggeration.
The service the past few times I’ve gone is the best I’ve ever experienced, too. C, C, L, J, B, and the rest are just salt of the earth. And I’m not saying that figuratively, because it’s accepted that human blood is about 0.9 percent sodium chloride.
So, dear readers, please go to Mas, and send them my love.
There’s been a lot of stink going ’round about OXO being lame or on a downswing. But…I had never been, save a dinner or 2.
Team Tuffy rolled in there last night around 11 and stayed for a while, and it was really a lot of fun. The sous chef DJ was playing some nice, dance-able stuff, and the barkeeps were nothing if not lovely, courteous, and making nice drinks. Por example: I asked for a drink with gingerbeer…they didn’t have any. Fair enough. So the bartender took the time and effort to make me something that she thought would be comparable. It wasn’t, but it was a nice drink nonetheless and the extra little sumpin’ was appreciated. And, it was PACKED. People were getting down! The dancefloor was full and people seemed to be having a good time.
[kml_flashembed movie=”http://www.youtube.com/v/_diAoe1_JmM” height=”350″ width=”425″ /]
After a night of bopping around town from Zocalo to the Bang to OXO, the last stop was certainly the best. Hopefully along the same vein as Zinc will be on Thursday.
I’ve always had this thing for OXO. A thing. I’m serious. It actually started several years ago. I couldn’t get a job there– they had the staff they needed. I found work elsewhere, but I just wanted to be “around” OXO, and I couldn’t afford the date.
I finally acted on the crush earlier this year. I went just for the Artini, just to express some interest. There was something there– the chemistry, the buzz. But I was trying to play hard to get, so I waited before going back for dinner. When I did, my crush got worse. I had to go back. I didn’t think OXO knew I liked it so much, but then I started talking about night scenes needing dance floors, and it was like OXO wanted me there. Sparkling wine for five dollars? Love.
I figured out that referencing NY Times Magazine articles and fussing over risotto recipes wen’t winning me any more popularity around here [than when I tied with BusRider for “favorite writer” in our readers poll], so here’s the cynical Lilith you know and tolerate. And yes, I did vote for myself, as a matter of fact. Do you think less of me? Oh you’re about to. I have a conscience, FYI, and it’s barely okay with… »Read More
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