Saturday, February 27, 2016
Life is a labor-intensive, expensive son-of-a-bitch.
It only follows, then, that when one manages to acquire that sparkly sliver of time that all the cool kids are calling a night out, it had better be approximately as delightful as accidentally wandering naked into a fluffer convention.
Having said that: no waitress deserves, when innocently asking what she can bring you tonight, to have the female customer sink her nails into her forearm and hiss, "My carefree youth, please." Then have to watch as she tosses back a flight of regional micro-brews like a frat boy with some Jagermeister. And laughs manically into the delicately-breaded, long-stemmed artichokes.
No one deserves that.
So. Bareburger, Columbus location. We walk in in the middle of a Weezer song, and are greeted (seemingly sincerely) by a well-dressed, patchouli-scented hostess. These are all good things. Clientele are groups of friends, a few families, a few couples-all seem happy to be there. The decor is quite eclectic. The lighting fixtures salvaged/vintage-looking wood and silverware, with old-fashiony incandescent bulbs. There is thick rope wrapped around a pillar and some of the visible ducting near the ceiling. The booths could have been from an elegant hotel lobby. There are some cool bear head sculptures on the walls.
Our (also patchouli-scented) waitress is interesting and friendly, and patient with my incessant questions. She laughs out loud when I order the Fig & Pig cocktail with the pig on the side (bacon garnish, happily taken care of by carnivorous husband). He orders a sarsaparilla so that we can continue our ongoing debate on the differences between that beverage and root beer. We decide to split the Guapo Chop as a starter.
The salad is a winner. Blue corn chips and cold nacho toppings on a bed of romaine. Nom nom.
The cocktail not so much. It features bourbon and the house tomato fig jam. The flavors are muddled and confusing. I recommend against.
Husband orders the Blue Elk burger (with Amish bleu cheese, country bacon, stout-soaked onions, and that mischievous tomato fig jam). He describes it as, "Uhhhh, ohhhhh. Uhhhhhh. Yeah." *Eyes roll back into head*
I devour the sweet potato and rice burger, rolled in collard greens. (Look at the picture at the top of the article. Loooooook at it.) I include Amish bleu, stout onions, spicy pickles, and paprika mayo. It is everything I have ever wanted out of life. Words fail me. Wait, no they don't. The sweet tater is, well, sweet, the collards are succulent, the bleu has bite, the paprika mayo is zesty. Put. It. In. My Face.
In short, I recommend this restaurant. They have a good selection of vegan, vegetarian, & gluten-free items. All of their meats are free-range, pasture-raised, humanely-raised, and antibiotic and hormone-free. Although if you have an aversion to patchouli, you should probably avoid this place like the plague. For serious.
Then we sashay through the magical night to the movie theater. I'm just going to get right to the point. If you have not already watched Deadpool, fix the problem. If you have already watched it, you probably (like me) are trying to rationalize watching it again.
Change Your Life To Make This Movie Happen To Your Eyeballs.
The introduction credits are funny. By the time the first fight scene is over I have my arms wrapped around my middle out of concern that something is going to rupture. And it just doesn't stop.
The main character does not give a fuck about the fourth wall, and it is gloriously obnoxious. He is immature, crass, violent, arrogant, and....dick jokes. So. Many. Dick. Jokes.
Here are my thoughts on Ryan Reynolds. I am not particularly impressed by Dreamy Ryan Reynolds. Apparently I am in the minority. I much prefer Hilarious, Obnoxious Ryan Reynolds. I have the same theory about Brad Pitt. Brat Pitt a la 12 Monkeys or Burn After Reading over Brad Pitt a la Legends of the Fall, any day. Admittedly, I didn't actually watch Legends of the Fall. I saw a poster, one time, though.
I feel like you are still reading this instead of driving to the nearest movie theater to take in this orgy of razor-sharp, low-brow wit.
Go away. Go eat at Bareburger.