Yes, I was at the pub! No, we did not win at trivia. Mr. Kite and friends won the first round, and I’m not sure what strangers won the second, although I got a nice video of Ronald giving us his patented glowery, sardonic Death Stare during the questions, which I will try to get around to uploading eventually. I let the Gentleman talk me in to the artichoke jalapeno dip, by which I used to swear, but I’m old now and my stomach is not the efficient and merciless iron machine that it once was. It’s angry at me today.
“Yeah, I was feeling pretty crappy today, too.” –thus spake the Gentleman, purveyor of artichoke jalapeno dip and stomach acid trips
The evening ultimately raised more questions than it answered, as there was the following new item on the menu:
This lead to broad and snickering speculation as to precisely what the what a “Tahoe Snoopy” is: it sounds like some kind of voyeuristic sex act. If anyone has an explanation for this, I’d love to hear it. Because that is simply not a term in widespread enough use to get thrown on a menu and not explained.