Here's To You Force

Today was the last day of school for a lot of the kids in our class. Most of them rushing off to work, packing for externships, or just leaving to celebrate that unless they want to, they don't have to come back here again.  Most all of them being culinary management degree students, they have spent the last 14+ months dedicating their time to the kitchen, recipe cards, and work books.

I leave this today as the last post of this project to say Congratulations to my esteemed cohort, Mr. Dustin Force. You made it, be proud of it, and even though you get to spend the rest of today working like a dog, I'd like the chance to buy you a shot and a pitcher. Couldn't have asked for a better partner in crime or a better ear to rant to. Here's to you friend....

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

"I can't help myself. I'm for anything that gets you through the night, be it prayer, tranquilizers, or a bottle of Jack Daniel's." -Frank Sinatra

Seven facts about No. 7 and the nine year old that made whiskey:

1)      Jack Daniels' signature whiskey is the Old No. 7 brand. There were not 6 previous incarnations, and the secret of the 7's real meaning died with the original Mr. Jack Daniels.

2)Jack was one of the few distilleries to survive prohibition.

3)Moore County, Tennessee, where Jack is distilled, is still a dry county. However, the distillery is exempt from the law and sells Gentlemen Jack in its gift shop.

4) Jack Daniels distillery was founded in 1866, The first batches were sold in large, ceramic jugs with big 'X's printed on the side.

5)If anyone has ever told you that you smell like Jack Daniels, it's time to seriously reevaluate your life.

6)Jack's iconic square bottle never originally held mayonnaise.

7)Jack will only render you blind if you break the bottle and jab it into your face.

Who's The Biggest Slut?

Having my two best girls in town usually means a lot of pervertedness and inappropriate conversation. What night wouldn't be complete without the blessed drinking game "Who's The Biggest Slut?" With seven people crammed into my tiny apartment we devoured bad beer and vodka with mountain dew, a drink to soon become named pond scum. (don't judge me, it's what we had) to play this wonderful game discovered by my friend Megan. The game consists of dice and 2 books. You roll the dice and the number determines which question out of the book you have to answer. The questions are about what you've done sexually and depending on how dirty the question is you drink one to three drinks. Everyone answers the question and if you have, you drink and get a point. I don't know what was more awkward or comical; the fact that My friend and I figured we would be the winners and then having my boyfriend win or playing it with his ex-girlfriend as well. Either way it was hilarious and a good time though I don't recommend it if you're shy or around a group of people that you don't want to know or have them know you pretty well. Happy drinking ya'll.

The Ode To The Tootsie Roll

This is a story I feel needs to be shared. After many drinks, bars, I ended up with a living room of full of friends and ridiculous statements. My dear friend who had just finished hitting on someone to find out they were not the sex he thought they were, he poured his woes from his beer and down his throat while slowly passing out in my rocking chair much smaller then himself. When he leaned over in his sleep and spit on my floor, I decided it was time to wake him up. Sitting on my bed in my studio apartment, my boyfriend behind me, he plops down next to me and starts trying to grab my ass. I'm sure you can imagine the joy this brought to my boyfriend. So after being kicked off the bed, and with no room on the couch, he settled on the floor to tell us a story about how he is uncomfortable. He stands up and gets in to a battle of logic with myself and after going in circles for about half an hour, looks at my two best girlfriends, who he had been trying to score with all night, and very proudly and matter of factly declared "I have a tiny ass dick". I have seen a lot of men do a lot of things when drunk and heard a lot of "truths" come out after a few drinks but this, this was a first. not only was this sentence repeated, it was finished with "You know like a tootsie roll? Its like that, but better..."

Either way you look at it, whether he meant the short and fat ones or the long and skinny ones, its just not a good thing to compare your dick too. Oh and he's white....

The Matador

Well, there's only so much this author can say about about the Matador...at least in a positive light. With The Bitter End no longer in business, trying to find a bar close by that has cheap drinks, pool tables, and at least decent service has become almost more trouble than it's worth, almost.

The bar staff are all mostly decent people, serving up stiff drinks to the wide variety of patrons. Unfortunately there are a lot of Portland "Hipsters" that frequent this dive bar. The worst kind of hipsters too. The in-your-face, quaffed-hair, tight, girl-jeans-wearing, pool-table-stealing mother fucker type of hipsters that don't really know anything about anything, who feign intelligence, and take any opportunity to let a stranger know how miserable their lives are.

Aside from the dick-shitting, asshole customers that hang out in this bar, there are a few actually cool regulars that make this spot not quite so dreadful. The pool tables are decent, with free pool on Sundays (Sunday is definitely the best night to hit up the Matador, as most of the aforementioned hipsters are sleeping off their xanex hangovers). There's a back room with an odd assortment of games including a basketball hoop shooting game, some sort of sensor-based boxing game (or maybe it's a dancing game? it's hard to tell when the people playing it are sort of doing both...), and a few others. There's a cigarette machine that costs way too much money. Basically the only real reason to ever go to this place is because it's right down the street from my work, the bartenders are starting to recognize me and pour larger and increasingly cheaper drinks, and seem to push service to me higher up on the queue. If none of those things apply to you, don't bother even setting foot in The Matador, there are plenty of other places to spend your money in Portland.