Every Time That We Walk the Streets

A Clockwork Orange

I admit that I feel an odd form of consumer’s guilt whenever I go to Papa Gjorgio’s.  To say that it is Ada’s best place to consume calories would be quite the local culinary understatement.  It just seems almost culturally inappropriate for a town like this to have a place with a satisfying wine list and where cheese fries and a side of ranch dressing is an impossibility.  Wednesday night I enjoyed a couple hours in the restaurant’s reassuringly intimate Martini Bar with several of my close “buds”.  Though I have been m.i.a. for a few weeks, this became a weekly pilgrimage sometime during my final semester of college.  This is our Wednesday night fellowship.  In place of potluck casserole, Blake and I mutually masticated our margarita pizza, and casual conversation about “The Whitest Kids U Know” skit-lifting from MTV’s “The State” replaced weepy diatribes against the dangers of inter-religion dating.  Sipping on a Will-prepared drink, I listened to Dave D. recount his Radio Shack Story of the Day.  This consisted of a senile lady shopper leaving poo poo in places not designated a toilet bowl and left me wondering what kind of paycheck would balance out selling coaxial cable to potty untrained customers.  Mental answer: medical school amounts.  Will comes to the table to announce that he will indeed be opening the upcoming All These Teepees show as his dance music alter-ego DJ Tanner.  And I end the night reminded of why I find it so hard to leave this home of twenty-four years. 

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3 responses to “Every Time That We Walk the Streets

  1. I miss Ada a lot sometimes.

  2. I wasn’t done writing that last comment when I hit “enter”. oh well. fuck it.

  3. Sometimes before I come home I make sure I have an important piece of news to make my parents proud so they’ll see fit to take me to dinner there. Tips of the trade.

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