Wings, Anal and a Flat Tire

I had dinner with Aljon last night at Fire On The Mountain. It's not very good, but it's not very bad there. The mural on the wall makes me want to murder. It's really terrible. I'll be posting some pictures of it, so that everybody can check their rage before they head down for some wings. I don't know why a person would include Willie Nelson, Carlos Santana, Janis Joplin, Jerry Garcia and Einstein in a mural with a giant guitar at a wings restaurant, or anywhere - ever.

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On the way home I remembered that Brian and I had considered grabbing a weekday drink, so I texted him while riding, which is a bad idea. Sure enough, he was doing the dishes so I stopped in and dried a few dishes. We headed over to the A&L which, as one might suspect, we refer to as the Anal. It's not a shitty bar or anything, but it's divey. Not Top Of The Hill divey, but it's not a nice bar. I somehow managed to ring up a tab that was not commensurate with my purchase. After parting ways with Brian and Kelley, I jumped on my bike to ride home only to find that I had gotten a flat tire. Feeling a little bummed and a little buzzed, I opted to pump it up and try to ride it home before it deflated. I made it about 5 blocks. I had to stop 4 times on the way home and pump it up. It seemed like a better idea than trying to patch it in the dark. I made it home and walked to the 7-11 for an unhealthy snack.

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