The past two weeks have been consumed with planning a work event that finally goes down on Thursday. Today, I shopped for supplies at Wal-Mart and it was horrific, involving ill-timed tax-exempt numbers and store managers who couldn't read. Needless to say, it was a long day. And everyone knows what long days merit: beer and pizza. I've been anxiously waiting for the right moment to try out The Parlor in Hyde Park, as the outside door and deck sings to my love of dive bars with plenty of Newcastle on tap and pizza by the slice warming under heat lamps.
In Little Rock, I frequented two similar establishments: Pizza d'Action in Hillcrest/Stiff Station and Vino's Brewpub downtown. I'm getting a little misty eyed thinking about all of the elements that made them special: the fact that I never saw their interiors in day light, the graffiti on the bathroom walls, the throaty garage bands I'd go to see play from high school onward, the PBR...
There is something so inherently comforting about beer and pizza. It's the cookies and milk of adulthood. The Parlor didn't disappoint - oversized slices on paper plates, $3.00 pints of Lonestar, local art on the walls, and pool tables in arm's length of a juke box.
There was also this guy, labeld "David," stalking Eirik from the corner. He should have gotten Eirik... my lovely room mate trapped a cock roach in a jar candle earlier today and left it on my table. After getting home, I didn't know there was a cockroach in the jar when I decided it would be nice to light a vanilla candle to cover up the stink of Catan-playing boys. Now Eirik is on the phone with Zara recounting how loudly I screamed when I took the lid off. It's also important to note that when he started giggling, I put the lid back on the jar and hid it in his room.
One thing I adore about Austin is the mural art on so many of the buildings. Next Tuesday I get to take my kids on a graffiti field trip of Austin in preparation for a mural they are going to do in the school's club space.
I've lost my roommates to the game of Catan. I don't really miss them, as the kitchen gets musch less messy when they're occupied...
And in case it wasn't obvious above, we now have our own lurking corner ghoul, although he doesn't lurk so much considering he sparkles like a Twilight vampire in sunlight. He's now aptly named Sparkles, and he's patriotic.
It seems only fitting to end with my favorite throaty garage band song: Bastards and Bridesmaids by Two Cow Garage, who I got to see play at White Water Tavern in Little Rock, and unhappily missed recently in Austin. I won't make the same mistake for the Get Up Kids.