Sunday, April 24, 2011

Happy Easter! Easter Sucks!

I don't like Easter. Growing up, it was a nice way to kill time between the bigger and better holidays, but it was never something I looked forward to. A basket full of candy was welcome, painting hardboiled eggs was kinda fun, but you just didn't get an Xbox for Easter. End of story.

So Easter this year? Forget about it.

But last Friday, we went out to one of my favorite bars, Casey Moore's Oyster House, which is less of an "oyster house" than an "overcrowded patio full of drunk college kids." It's one of the coolest places to hit up in Tempe, Arizona, where the beers are cold and the influx of good looking people will make you feel like a fat slob. The over thirty crowd need not apply. Sorry.

The place was heavily packed, which I assume is out of the fact that it was a holiday weekend, albeit a pretty lame holiday weekend, but any excuse to drink is a good enough excuse for me. And apparently, a ton of other people. So here we are and there we go.

At this point, Easter wasn't even a legitimate idea in my mind, in fact, if it was never brought up ever again, I would be a happy camper. So I ordered some food, ate 'til I reached a satisfied bloat, etc., etc.

Now, the food is good, and if you actually ventured into the main restaraunt (the place is split into two sections, sitting areas inside or outside) the food is even better. Different menus for different areas, I guess. Classier meals vs. inebriated bar crap. Smokers vs. the non-smokers.

Only the nerds sit inside, BTW.

Long story short, we hung out for a while, only to be shocked into the realization that a woman was hobbling around and allowing people to "pet her chicken." Even if you weren't buzzed, seeing a chicken under a woman's arm in a dimly lit bar is pretty wild. But that's exactly how it sounds. A woman was wandering the premises with her pet chicken. She was allowing people to pet it, shoot the shit, question her sanity. This would be fine if that was the main attraction, but this woman was also handing out the chicken's eggs, freshly layed and packaged for anyone who was interested. I was hooked.

I gladly took charge and said yes to the offer. For one, these eggs were free, and came in a neatly wrapped quarter-carton. Secondly, one of the eggs was green.

So cool! A green egg! I never thought "Green Eggs and Ham" could actually be replicated or real, but I've been painfully proven wrong. At a public bar. By a damn chicken.

I never expected to bother with Easter this year, but this kinda just fell into my lap. And I'm thankful! I have zero desire to purchase anything Easter related, and if I did, I don't think I could handle all the weak, Easter pastels in my apartment. With all the plastic eggs, Easter Bunny cutouts and glass clings, it's just way too many baby blues and soft pinks all up in here. But this is a beautiful, magical addition to my lonely holiday. A stupid, green egg. Yay.

I really wanna eat these (especially that green one!) and for the sake of celebrating just to celebrate, I absolutely will. But unless someone cooks them up for me, they'll forever remain in my fridge until the words "rotten " and "deathstink" come into play. I hate cooking.

Color me typical, but I had to. Vampire fangs are so much fun to draw.

Happy Easter!

1 comment:

  1. Y'know, most women in a bar asking you to "pet their chicken" is cause for you to run screaming in terror...but this seems to have worked out well for you!

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