| rev:text
| - I wouldn't have known a thing about this place had I not popped by to catch up with a Meetup.com group for drinks and karaoke. The place was pretty busy considering it was a Tuesday night, and now I know why... It's because of the $2 draft beer special. And they have 36 different beers on tap, so I'm guessing this is incentive enough for frugal Gilbertians to congregate here.
Judging from the appetizer I ordered, the food is neither spectacular nor inedible... but it'll do when sucking down discount adult beverages. I ordered the Spicy Chicken Billiard Sticks which is their oddly-named knockoff of Chili's Southwestern Egg Rolls. Even the menu description is cryptic: "Thin potato wraps filled with spicy chicken, black beans, corn, spinach, peppers, onions and melted cheese. Served with poblano sauce for dipping." I like the sound of "poblano sauce", but in all actuality this was ranch dressing.
Not a bad venue for karaoke. Crooners, balladeers, and lesser rockstar wannabes get partitioned to one side of the fairly large restaurant floor near a bank of walled-in television monitors. Kudos to the KJ for having P-p-p-pokerface in his repertoire, but boo-hiss for not having Inside Out by Eve6 (even though it was listed in his songbook). I was gonna shred with that little ditty! The crowd was fun... the aforementioned Lady Gaga hit got a lot of attention and the unofficial transgender crowd-pleaser tune of the night (Note: two dudes shouting off-key do not a fetching pop starlet make).
The karaoke crowd dynamics did at least allow for at least one baffling moment of the evening, which translated into a pretty good icebreaker. One of the karaoke regulars launched into a rendition of Don't Cry for Me Argentina for the SECOND time that night! I realize (from listening to the KJ announce details earlier) that he was practicing for an upcoming karaoke contest which would involve contestants having to sing at least one randomly selected Madonna hit, but having to listen to this snoozer of a song twice from the same dude violated some unwritten rule of karaoke ethics. As I escaped to the patio, I mentioned the offense to another sleepy-eyed patron.
She started back with: "This song actually hurts my vagina!"
I countered: "Hey, this hurts my man-gina! But then, I'm ovulating..."
Her: "Well, don't get too close. I don't want to get pregnant and I'm way too fertile."
Me: "For whatever it's worth, I'm wearing radar-resistant underwear. So at least that ought to afford some protection."
It's moments like these that tell me I may have found a decent place to hang out. Of course, it's really all about the cheap drinks.
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