So tonight we're headed off to "The Barking Shark," in the North Hills. None of us have ever been there. The Fence suggest maybe we should go to Shenanigan's instead, as it is a little closer. I threaten to pistol whip him, as required, and counter with the offer to go to Shenanigan's on the condition that we burn it to the ground. Actually, that's probably a little much. I don't like the place too much, but I don't hate it. I don't want to go mostly because I don't think the food is very good. Before I depart, I google directions and check out the bar's website. Wing night on Thursdays? Fuck yeah! I love it when a plan comes together. I ask the girl in the cube next to me what was the name of the dude on A-Team who said that - she doesn't know. Not sure what that is about. Anyways - the wing special on the website is pretty kick ass. .10 a piece from 8-11. That is a fucking deal. I get home and mess with a post for this, and then start trying to catch up on all the shows on my DVR that I've missed this week. I head out about 7 - and it takes about a half hour to get there. It would have taken less time, except I was stuck behind some asshole who thought that 10 mph was the desired speed to drive on Babcock Boulevard. It's a 2 lane road. This asshole then had the audacity to make a left turn. Yeah - it pissed me off a bit. The Fence sends me a text telling me that they are there, they have a table and the wing special is actually .25 a piece from 7-11. Now that isn't bad, but update your fucking website people. At least there is still a wing special. The parking lot is small, but it is only one spot left, so I'm hopeful that the wings are good.
I walk in to see Cheeseplate, his wife, we'll call her LOUDTALKER or LT for short, Juice, and The Fence, and the wife of The Fence, who we'll refer to alternatingly as either Mary Kate or Ashely. (I'm not going to lie - I'm not in love with that nickname but I couldn't think of anything better. You deserve better, but I'm not sure what to do...) The wives compliment the beard. I'm looking less like a trucker today, I guess. They have Straub Light on tap - score. I'm liking this place. The table has a pitcher of it - good call Cheeseplate. They've all order wings already, and they arrive. I ask the waitress for a glass. Just as a warning - I'm going to focus on the waitress again for this post, mostly because the waitress was sort of a trip. Her name was Nicole and she was pretty cute I guess. She also sort of reminded me of that time I found a ringtail lemur and tricked it into smoking crank. That may not have happened, but the waitress was animated to say the least. I also order some wings. I ask the waitress what are the hottest wings on the menu. She suggests honey habanero, x-hot and something called man-eaters. Man-eaters? In the words of the master, who were the advertisings wizards that came up with that? Generally speaking, men eat wings, and men eat the hottest wings. Most men don't want to eat something named man eaters. Most men don't listen to the Hall & Oates "hit" Man-eater for the same reason. Actually, probably not for the same reason. Men don't listen to that song because it is lame.
I get 10 x-hot and 10 honey jalapeño. I steal a wing from the rest of the table - it was decent. Not sure what the table is eating, Carribean BBQ is appearently a hit - but you know by now I don't go near that kind of shit. Mary Kate wants a t-shirt. My wings arrive, but I promise to head out to my car and grab her and LT a shirt each. Nicole asks what the story with the t-shirts are. She asks if we are in a wing league. I'm not sure if there is a such thing as a wing league, but if there isn't, it's just another reason why this country is going down the tubes. I bet they have wing leagues on Costa Rica. Someone call Nancy Grace - she'll get to the bottom of this shit. And if we're lucky, she'll choke do death on a chicken bone. I explain the week of wings to the waitress. She asks me if I've been shitting a lot. I explain I've only been eating chicken, so it hasn't been too bad. Here's the thing - if you have balls, hot sauce doesn't make you shit.
Peaches arrives. He had hurt his balls jumping down off a wall. Ok. I had heard that he was going to tap out as far as eating wings was concerned. He was down by 10 to DoubleDown, who may or may not be showing up. His concern wasn't his stomach or that he didn't feel up to it - he was worried about his face breaking out. He may be meeting the love of his life this weekend, and if he has pimples, she may pass on him. I guess the future love of Peaches life is superficial, which he seems to be ok with. He says he's worried about looking like he's in high school. I suggest that he just date high school girls. Cheeseplate yells across the table "he already does!" It's funny because it's true. Anyways, the waitress tells us that dating high school girls is ok as long as they are at least 16. She then recites the age of consent laws. Her claim is that she taking some law classes. I'm perversely impressed with any girl who can recite the age of consent laws, but I think she could have finished stronger than "so head to the high school football game!" Peaches takes that ball and runs with it, though. He guesses that she was a gymnist a was cheerleader. My guess is that she was on the dance team. Peaches was 2/2. I was 0/2.
The wings arrive. The x-hot are decently hot - but they don't cause me to break out in a sweat or anything. The honey jalapeño are more interesting, but I think I'd have preferred them a little bit hotter. That is just me though. She says they are popular, and I can see why. Here is the issue with the wings here. They make a ton at the beginning of the night, and then add the various sauces as they are ordered. I understand this, and no one likes waiting for wings, but I'm not sure that this is the answer. The method they use to keep the wings warm is also causing the to shrivel up and be dry on the inside. That doesn't stop me from eating them. Peaches decides that the rumors of his death are greatly exagerrated, and orders 30 wings of various flavorings. He was 10 behind DoubleDown at the start, and figures 30 Thursday and 30 Friday will put the game out of reach for DoubleDown if he doesn't show up.
Speaking of which - The Fence sends DoubleDown a text that Peaches is eating wings tonight, and that people would be there until at least 10:30 - but maybe not too much later. He decides that it isn't worth the trip. He'll need to be back with a vengence on Friday if he wants to retain the belt.
LAPSE arrives - yeah - LAPSE! He as a bunch of stats that are pretty impressive. I'll make a separate post for those. He's been charting the progress we've been making. I'll figure out how to post it here at some point. It's pretty good stuff. He orders more wings.
Nicole starts talking to Cheeseplate, LT, The Fence and Ashley about how they met each other and how they knew the other was "the one." Oh Nicole - you fooled us all. Beneath that wild, pro sexual predator attitude exterior lurks the heart of a true romantic. Also, The Fence is not a fan of this line of questioning. I can relate to that. She asks us what we all do, and tells us she is in school for social work. She used to work a terrible job for some douchey fashion desinger and decided that she'd rather help people. That makes sense. She seems to have good people skills, but as a miserable bastard, all it means to me is that the more she talks, the less she goes and gets beer and wings for us. To that end, I break up the conversation by ordering another pitcher. I've mentioned that I really like Straub Light, but I think they must have had Honey Brown in this tap recently because it tastes a little off. Peaches points out to Mary Kate that Nicole has a really sex back. Mary Kate has two reactions. (A) That isn't her back, it's her ass, and 2 - why are you telling me this specifically? I didn't notice her back, but as I mentioned, she was cute. As far as the second point - I did find it a little strange. Peaches definitely was speaking directly to Ashley about Nicole's back/ass. Ashely must be the expect on backs and as it turns out, asses as well. She should update her résumé.
I've been remiss in my write up to this point by not discussing the fine job that Cheeseplate, LT and Mary Kate have been doing in the wing eating area. Impressive showing for all 3. I order 10 more, 5 hot garlic and 5 hot ranch. I had tried to convince Peaches to order the hot ranch by suggesting that it sort of sounded like hot pants. That would have worked, except the waitress said that they weren't that good. As I ordered them, everyone reminded me of this. Iasked her, but as she started to explain why, I told her I didn't care and that she should bring them. She did. They were really gross looking. She pointed out that I didn't care, which was a fair point to make. LT thought they looked like hot sauce mixed with ranch, and that they weren't so gross looking. Good point LT. That is what they tasted like too. Here is the thing, I don't really like ranch that much. I only wanted to order them because hot ranch sort of sounds like hot pants. The hot garlic were decent - but I'd reserve judgement until I had them fresh.
I go and grab shirts for Ashley, LT and one for the Boss - LAPSE can take it to her. I also prevent Peaches from entering the men's room after the largest, sloppiest chubster exited. It went like this: "Dude" (head nod) (puzzled shoulder shrug/why look on face) (glance at chubster/glance at men's room door) (giggles. retreats from door.) Non verbal communication - it's a life saver.
I order 5 more wings - tangy mustard. They're pretty good. Nicole is back and begins her line of questioning towards the married folk again. The Fence decides it's shirt signing time. Nicole is game. She goes and grabs some sharpies. The Fence has her write a love letter on his back. It didn't start "Dear Penthouse Forum," but it was still pretty good. On Mary Kate's back you ask? "Your husband is an ass." Well done. The waitress doesn't claim to be creative, but she writes a pretty clever message on Peaches back. "You're kinda cool, but don't come back." That's clever because all the other waitresses had wrote messages imploring him to come back. I don't recall what she writes on Cheeseplate's back. She asks LAPSE - he tells her to write "You've gained weight this week, but you still look good." Not sure if that is what she wrote. I had her write "I knew you were an outlaw," well, for obvious reasons. LT never put her shirt on - so it remained free of any message. Nicole asks "aside from here, what was your favorite place this week?" Well phrased. We all have different answers, or at least differing answers - I'll make a different post discussing this.
The ladies and Cheeseplate leave shortly afterwards. I offer to drop off The Fence, as he is ready to stay out a little bit. Everyone else is good for a pitcher or two. We hung out for a bit - had some more beer. This post is already way too long - but we had some laughs, a few Irish Car Bombs may have been had, and we all left before it was too late. I gave our waitress this URL - and told her that there was going to be a good bit about her. Maybe there was.
Wing count - I don't really remember - Peaches had the most. I had 26. LAPSE had a lot too. Overall, I thought that the place was pretty nice, a bit far for me. The waitress definitely made the night more entertaining, though it took me a while to come around to her. I'm not sure I'd go there for wing night again, but I would go there to get wings again, and try them freshly made.
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