In another lifetime, going out on a Thursday night was a foregone conclusion. I preferred Thursdays and Sundays over Friday and Saturdays. Simple logic: Thursdays were the true beginnings of the weekend and Sunday was, and still is, Sunday Funday. Now Thursday shenanigans are the exception not the rule.
Last night was a going away party for Mike Marra. Mike will be taking his talents back to the beaches of North Jersey. No doubt he will be missed but now I've got a free pad to crash at when I get up that way. So we went to JD's on Canton Square. JD's is affectionately known as Just Dudes because it is a solid sports bar with a great beer selection, good food, but always lacking on women. I didn't really know anyone so I bailed pretty quickly. Playoff hockey is awesome but not next to a table of 3 Rangers fans who had to make sure their underdog voice was heard at every moment.
I left and made a fatal mistake. Try to relive the past. It never works. Ever. I decided to meet up with my boys Randy, Dave, and Jim at Red House Tavern on Essex St. RHT was formerly known as Cardwell's Tavern and Dave's father was the owner. Thursday nights were done correct back in the day. Not on this night. The stars aligned perfectly to combine members of the Kickball League of Baltimore and Karaoke night. Karaoke is never a good idea unless you are wasted. Simple truth. Most members of the Kickball League are gimps and tonight was no exception. For about an hour I was serenaded by a bunch of slappys who had never been laid or played too many roll playing games to build social skills except with those of their kind.
Unknowingly this was some kind of competition because the grand finale pitted a drunk, hooded, Eminem-looking dude we will call Corky versus my boy Dave. Corky fired away first with a loathsome version of Gangsters Paradise by Coolio during which his literacy was obviously being tested. Dave fired back with a pretty spot on version of Bust A Move by Young MC. Dave wins with ease and claims his two free Boh pitchers. Best part is Corky is dumbfounded by the result. He's legit angry and pouts on the side. Sorry Corky, your attempt at 8-mile fell 7.9 miles short.
We left a little before midnight and went to Bartenders on Boston Street. It was the usual but I'm happy to say the pizza has made a major improvement over the last couple of visits.
All in all, this Thursday night fell way short of yesteryear. I solemnly promise myself I will never go back to Red House Tavern and I will not listen to Karaoke unless I'm blacked out.. I will get back to Bartenders for more pizza.
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