Last night I went to a Mexican sports bar. By Mexican I mean that's the theme and the food is far from the best that Los Angeles has to offer when it comes to Mexican delicacies and by sports bar I mean young, caucasian waitresses, ESPN on the screens, geled hair, button down shirts, LA women, and clusters of dudes not too far removed from those who flock together in colleges across the nation. Why was I there? A pumpkin carving contest my boy Dave was competing in for $250. [which he lost to the buzzed young men next to us, but should have won.]
One of the best things about the night was when the Detroit/St. Louis game came to an end and the background tunes got louder; tunes provided by the bars patrons. Plenty of Journey, Justin Timberlake, and other frat rock jams. But then out of nowhere came Wicked Garden by STP. I fucking love STP and today just so happens to be the 39th birthday for the sexy beast that is Scott Weiland. Here's hoping you play it safe and where is that new Velvet Revolver album? I still believe Fall to Pieces is the best Guns and Roses song not recorded by Axl and co.
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