mikefotis.com

Happy Friday!

Last night I went to the hip new eatery, Burger Jones. Burger Jones has been getting a lot of “buzz” in this city and as you know, if something cool is happening in the TC, I am there within 2 to 3 months of it becoming popular. What can I say? I am awesome. Anyhoo, here’s the review.

Drink: I had the water. It was fantastic. Obviously filtered and playfully chilled with chunks of frozen water. Throughout the evening, I kept kept back to this delightful treat.

Burger: I opted for the Turkey burger. I agree, I was at a restaurant known for burgers and should have opted for the classic beef option, but let’s face facts.  I need to eat better and the turkey burger seemed to be the slightly healthier choice.

The turkey burger was pretty fantastic. Most turkey burgers I’ve had were clearly pre formed patties, meaning the chef didn’t have much to do with it. This one was clearly made from scratch. Topped with avocado slices and a orgasmicly good spicy mayo, this burger had it all.  The bun was fine. In truth, I thought it would be better. Oh well.

Fries: First strike against the fries? They didn’t come with the burger. Fuck that. I am cheap. Fries come with the burger. Fuck you for making me pay more, Burger Jones.  Having to buy the fries separately makes me feel like I’m buying a lamp at IKEA. All the parts are sold separately. Also, the waffle fries, while well seasoned and tasty, didn’t exactly deserve to be sold on their own. Shame on Burger Jones! Shame!

Ice Cream Sandwich: THe vanilla ice cream was ball knockingly tasty, but the “bread” of the ice cream sandwich was crispy as opposed to soft and chewy. Why fuck with the ice cream sandwich? Why? Shame!

Overall, it was a fine meal.  Go there if you want. I DON’T CARE!!!!

Mike

Happy Tuesday!

1. You may have noticed my new header image. If not, take a gander but only if you can handle what should be illegal amounts of adorableness. I have a Fringe show coming up if you haven’t heard. The dates are in the header.  I am excited because I have a lot of late time slots. Also, my venue is right by the Bedlam, which is where much merriment happens during the Fringe. Might I suggest seeing my show and then heading there for a nightcap? I might and I will. Also, please schedule my show. It matters in that it doesn’t matter at all yet still matters.

2. I am in a battle to keep my garden alive. Suddenly my garden began to die this weekend and with no warning signs whatsoever. In fact, the night before it started to die I thought to myself/said to my dog, “Wow, we’ve done a nice job of keeping this garden alive, haven’t we girl?! Come here and give me a kiss! Who’s a good girl? Wait! Where are you going? Why are you attacking the side of the house? Bad!”

Anyway, the garden has been stabilized. Hopefully my beautiful non moving life beings will make it through the summer.

3. I am thinking of adding a sunroom to my home. Can anyone recommend a good and fair contractor?

Happy Monday. I trust you all had a decent, if not very good, holiday.

1. Fuck you, Bears.  I went to the game last night, and while I will freely admit that the Vikings played very well, The Bears’ inability to catch balls down field when they were wide open also probably played a role in the game’s outcome.

Anyway, onto the fun stuff.

The Miller High Life guy sang the National Anthem. It was terrible, but it felt really American in a completely gross, marketed way.

The commercial break contests were great fun! The keg race was awesome.

Last year, as some of you might know, a few of us got into a verbal tussle with a group of hillbilly-ish Vikings fans, in particular a mother daughter duo who shared beer and cigarettes. It got more than a little heated and I’m pretty sure that most of us felt a little bit of guilt about things that were said.

Well guess who sat in front of us again this year? Apologies (kind of. More of a truce) were had and things went pretty well with mom and daughter. There was no more hatred to be spewed. There was no point in looking back. We would just ignore each other. Which worked until the end of the game, when the daughter was too drunk to remember the terms of our agreement and made fun of us in the most adorably inept way.

The fellas sitting behind us were tons of fun to shoot the shit with. They knew the game, and harbored no fantasies that they were part of the team.  And aside from the creepiness factor, there was a certain charm to the weird guy who every four or five plays, would leave his seat a few rows in front of us and come and  talk to me.  “Talk” isn’t the right word.  He more just stated facts at me, like “The Vikings have lost 4 super bowls” or, “My wife…she’s sitting right there…is a Vikings fan. But not me. I like the Bears…and Packers…And the Vikings are okay. Do you like stuff?”

Really, the only people that annoyed me were this alcoholic middle aged couple.  After a Bear’s cheap shot, the middle aged man, whose real shame is not that he’s an alcoholic, but that he feeds his beast with Mike’s Hard Lemonade, turned to us and screamed, “You know that was bullshit! You know it! Bullshit! You guys are dirty!”  He wanted us to apologize for the hit, but we stood by our argument that we were not on the Bear’s coaching staff and under no obligation to apologize, an argument which he rejected.  Thank God, the ensuing  MHL’s  that he downed dampened his fervor.

As for his wife, what is the best way to describe her? Maybe as the person in your office that nobody likes because she’s snarky and is in no way a decent human being to those around her?  Here’s why I say that, after being accused of orchestrating the late hit on Gus Ferrotte, we did everything in our power to ignore this couple.  They were just annoying, and were hoping to take the problems in their marriage and transfer them onto us for an evening.  Fine. People do that all the time. Whatever. The thing is, she kept trying to goad us into fights, at one point staring us down and screaming, “I know the rules of football!” , clearly hoping that one of us would scream back, “No you don’t! Girls don’t know nothin! No get out of this stadium and make us a pie!” at which point her limp dick husband would remember that at one point in his life he loved (at least liked) his wife and would defend her honor.
We didn’t take the bait and she never got to see her husband let her down.  You think I’m being a dick, but she truly, truly sucked.

Anyway, the moral of the story is this: A good time was had by all.