No Wonder Its Cheez-Whiz

Original:Wednesday, January 25, 2006
no wonder its cheez-whiz
Its freezing outside, but inside its hotter than a brick oven. Bars have gone mad, overcompensating for the cold air outside, so they pump up the heat on the inside. Why would a business want to spend more money, especially on heating, when the bodies warm up a place just as well?
Perhaps its that I weigh a quarter ton, but last weekend I was quite warm at the watering hole we chose. I had to remove my jacket and hold it because I didnt check it at the coat check/pants check station. It went from my arm to the floor to the fireplace, and eventually became my 2nd coat casualty of the drinking year.
The inside of a club/bar is like a living physics problem. All the bumping and grinding and moving, creating more friction and combustion than the inside of an engine. Yours truly was wearing a short sleeve shirt and thin pants, and was sweating more than I would have running a 5K, or at least one of the five K's.
I gazed around the room hoping I wasnt the only one sweating. As I looked around I noticed that the Thin Guy Patrol was having a meeting at the same bar I was at. Gentlemen in turtlenecks and sweaters and coats, bundled up as if there was a draft coming through the ceiling. I think I even saw someone on a treadmill in the corner, still not as warm as me.
I thought that maybe it was open bar/brick oven pizza night this evening. I guess they didnt have room for Tony behind the bar taking pizzas out of the oven while they served drinks.
" I need two coronas, a heineken, and a large sicilian "
" Eh, we hava no mora heineken, amastel eh ok? "
Its no wonder why they have bathroom attendants at these places ready to give you towels and spritzes of "Cool Water by Davidoff." They are trying to sweat you into giving them tips. I only tip them to look away from me when Im at the urinal. I figure I can cut my losses by giving them money first, this way I dont feel their eyes on the back of my head ready to give me 3 towels after washing my hands.
Drinking is bad.
New Year's in Boston gave me an unfortuante incident where I didnt remove myself totally from my boxers in the Men's Room. It was the weirdest feeling. Nothing appeared to be wrong, but the feeling of looming disaster washed over me, and then something else slightly washed over me.
"whoa, that was close"
I dont know why I told that story, but I really wanted to do the line from Tommy Boy that you read above.
ck