Monday, June 16, 2003

I just returned from a riotous evening with Cicero, Egg, and Brand-o. Our first stop, Andy’s Live Jazz, proved staid enough, and I believe that much of my initial excitement resulted from damned junior year nostalgia. Last year, Cicero and I, along with Janet and select members of the Time Machine, frequented the place a few times.

Tonight, Andy’s lost much of its charm from months past–the food was particularly bad–but the jazz was much better. The band that we caught last year, you see, fancied itself far more elite than it actually was. The funny thing was that for them, “improvisation” bore an uncanny resemblance to a string of whole notes, song after song.

The crowning touch of the evening, gentle reader, took place soon after we left Andy’s for Howl at the Moon, a piano bar of raucous proportions. I ordered my requisite non-alcoholic drink, shortly after which Cicero performed “Love Potion No. 9” for the inebriated, albeit non-howling masses. With a few drinks under his belt, he proceeded to complement a fine singing voice with some–and this is a descriptive title for interpretive dance–“Flaming Straight Man.” Indeed, Madame Ruth would’ve busted out a polygraph in addition to bottles of said potion.

The band especially loved the performance, the crowd cheered, our table was proud, and then the evening plummeted to twisted lows. A few recent graduates whom I will describe as “Nasty, Drunken Skanks Who Insisted on Running Onstage” persistently danced, sang, and tambourined, effectively interrupting other performances and embarrassing Depaul U. What was even more singular, however, was the 30-something man who actively tried to reel these carp in. Ick, dear reader, ick. Egg reported that this man also tried to “cast out his nets,” although I’m not sure why he did so.

All in all, though, it was a fine evening. And this just in! I always try to complain proactively, so I’m happy to announce a new product developed by the Secondhand Rants Culinary School. It’s an innovative vintage, if I do say so myself. I call it “Smirkoff Skank B-Gone.” By imbibing it, target customers will become prettier as they get drunk.