This isn't so much of a dating post, but a bit more of a fantastic time I had last night. My favorite Golden Girls from Michigan, accompanied by Mee-guel, were passing through Nashville on their way down to FL. The Golden Girls consist of one of my besties from MI, her mother, and her grandmother. My bestie is sort of Blanche, mom is a bit of Dorothy, and Grammie is a cross between Rose and Sohpia. I started referring to them as the Golden Girls awhile back as they each have uncanny resemblances to the women of 80's television fame, but the nickname shall now stick after Grammie started referring to herself as Betty White...before we had even had any wine.
I always love visits from friends, especially this group of people. I met up with them at their hotel on Music Row, and we were off to dinner. Mee-guel had the honor of picking the restaurant, mostly because the rest of us were too indecisive to choose a place, and we ended up at the Tin Angel. I had never been there before, but it looked decent, plus it was getting late for dinner and everyone was getting a bit hungry. Of course there was a wait for a table, which lasted about an hour, but we'd be fine just as long as we had access to the bar. I introduced Blance and Mee-guel to Yazoo beer, a Nashville favorite, and they seemed to generally enjoy it, however they were really aching for the nectar of the south known as PBR.
While we were waiting for the table, I ran into some of my Nashvillian friends who were also waiting, and some how we got into a conversation of the correct pronunciation and references of common items. I do not care what anyone says, a Coke is a Coca-Cola, not whatever other soft drink you may be asking for. If you want a Sprite, don't order a Coke, order a damn Sprite.
Anyway, as we were waiting we all started pounding back Yazoo and Cabernet. It was going to be quite the exciting evening. It was quite an eclectic crowd at the Tin Angel, but I was beginning to have a difficult time determining if people were in Halloween costumes, or just dressed like normally. One girl was in a mess of tulle, perhaps in an attempt to be Lady Gaga, but really was just a tool. An older woman at the bar probably wasn't in a costume, but had a delightful sequin top on, and Victoria Secret velour pants with PINK slapped across the butt. From the get-go Blanche was not all impressed with what she was wearing, and it wasn't even a costume, so we came up with the plan that if all else fails, we she could just be badly dressed and I would be Clinton Kelly, however, compared to some of these people, we actually seemed a bit over dressed.
Dinner was fantastic, and Dorothy will have you know that this is the place to go for risotto. We over indulged ourselves in entrees, desserts, and drinks, but it was all worth it. We also had quite the conversations, ranging from the Nashville flood to menstruating. Once dinner was over we had to return Betty White back to the hotel, but the rest of us were ready for Paradise Park and some PBR.
Upon getting into the bar we quickly took over the pool table. Mee-guel and Dorothy are quite the pool sharks, whereas Blanche and I have quite a difficult time even trying to figure out how to hold the stick right. Dorothy took me under her wing and was determined to coach me on how to shoot a decent game of pool, but I wasn't having any luck. She told me that I need to be able to walk into any bar and be able to hold my own at whatever activity they offer, and I responded that I could sure hold my own when it came to drinking, and that was the most important activity at any bar I've ever been to.
Hours passed and we went through our fair share of pitchers of PBR and many games of pool. I don't know what it is about it, but PBR just tastes so much sweeter on Broadway. We managed to hold down the pool table the entire night, and made a few friends along the way. I almost vomited when I looked up after my turn shooting and saw a couple making out on the couch at the end of the pool table. First off, the couch is nastier than anything I have seem come out of frat house or a crack house, and secondly, the skank had about 12 inches of toilet paper stuck to her shoe that she had thrusted into the air as her man friend laid on top of her. I'm pretty sure there may have been some penetration going on, and in my opinion, people like that are the reason there is a bedbug plague sweeping America.
During one round I just happened to look over my shoulder to notice a flannel wearing gentleman standing almost on top of me. He seemed to be roughly my age and didn't have crazy eyes from what I could tell, but never once made a move or introduced himself. For about 20 minutes, he just stood inches from me and smirked every time I glanced over. I should probably check Missed Connections to see if he posted anything about me.
The highlight of the evening for Blanche and I was most definitely not struggling at pool, but instead judging every skanks' Halloween costume. In my opinion, dressing as anything 'sexy' is not a costume, it's just you being a slut, and on top of that, if I have to ask what your costume is supposed to be, it probably isn't very good.
Eventually it was time to go home, and the bar kicked us out. I had a great time with the Golden Girls and Mee-guel, and frankly, after a visit from them, Nashville will never be the same.