"Where's the Beef?"
I'm American to the core. Gooderbad.
I think it's funny that I don't ever remember eating at an European style restaurant (less the Olive Garden counts). Until yesterday.
I took the train from Littleton to Lo-Do to avoid parallel-parking funtime (which I think I'd do again, $5.50 round trip, only drawback is that last train back is 1:00 something). After coming back from Mexico, I had really wanted to keep on keepin' on, so I decided to go to a Spanish-speaking group meet-up at the 9th Door, which serves Spanish Tapas.
American though I be, with no idea of how autentico it was, it was good stuff: spicey taters, BBQ chicken appetizers on sticks, breaded calamari, slivers of salmon, and mess of green veggies or something which I kind of glanced at for a sec, before thinking in a bout of raw patriotism: "naw, my ancestors came to this country to eat red bloody meat for B. L. & D."
I don't remember the rest of the night, I think I fainted from low blood sugar from the itsy Europortions...Okay, I exaggerate, but I was wishing I had eaten dinner beforehand like I planned.
There were six people total who came and it was a very enjoyable evening, everybody was super-padre ("super-cool" Mex.) and the conversation muy interesante. I was the least-traveled in the group, so it was cool to hear about everyone else's wanderlust and passion for languages (I think everybody had studied at least two or three). After two hours or so at the 9th door, most of us went to an Irish pub adjacent to Coors Field, and we switched to speaking 'Merican.
I think it's also funny that I'm more loquacious speaking Spanish with new acquaintances than I am in speaking English. Maybe there's a personality split, the uber-self-conscious gringo Daniel, who worries about the small gap between being mildly-amusing versus obnoxious, y el gringo-tico Daniel que no tiene ninguna preocupación en el mundo.
We talked a bit about politics et al. (or rather I observed) and I tried to remember at what point in the distant past I just said to myself, "okay, I'll shut up now," when in reality my opinions are not so inchoate that I can keep pretending, in the echo of a valley-girl, "Like oh my gosh. I dunno." No need for the world to be so bland, all conversation consisting of saccharine sports and other safe harbors.
So, I think I'll try to go to future events more regularly, and hopefully get to know some of the regulars better, since I don't seem to get enough of a fix of thought-provoking conversation while I've been in limboland.
I think it's funny that I don't ever remember eating at an European style restaurant (less the Olive Garden counts). Until yesterday.
I took the train from Littleton to Lo-Do to avoid parallel-parking funtime (which I think I'd do again, $5.50 round trip, only drawback is that last train back is 1:00 something). After coming back from Mexico, I had really wanted to keep on keepin' on, so I decided to go to a Spanish-speaking group meet-up at the 9th Door, which serves Spanish Tapas.
American though I be, with no idea of how autentico it was, it was good stuff: spicey taters, BBQ chicken appetizers on sticks, breaded calamari, slivers of salmon, and mess of green veggies or something which I kind of glanced at for a sec, before thinking in a bout of raw patriotism: "naw, my ancestors came to this country to eat red bloody meat for B. L. & D."
I don't remember the rest of the night, I think I fainted from low blood sugar from the itsy Europortions...Okay, I exaggerate, but I was wishing I had eaten dinner beforehand like I planned.
There were six people total who came and it was a very enjoyable evening, everybody was super-padre ("super-cool" Mex.) and the conversation muy interesante. I was the least-traveled in the group, so it was cool to hear about everyone else's wanderlust and passion for languages (I think everybody had studied at least two or three). After two hours or so at the 9th door, most of us went to an Irish pub adjacent to Coors Field, and we switched to speaking 'Merican.
I think it's also funny that I'm more loquacious speaking Spanish with new acquaintances than I am in speaking English. Maybe there's a personality split, the uber-self-conscious gringo Daniel, who worries about the small gap between being mildly-amusing versus obnoxious, y el gringo-tico Daniel que no tiene ninguna preocupación en el mundo.
We talked a bit about politics et al. (or rather I observed) and I tried to remember at what point in the distant past I just said to myself, "okay, I'll shut up now," when in reality my opinions are not so inchoate that I can keep pretending, in the echo of a valley-girl, "Like oh my gosh. I dunno." No need for the world to be so bland, all conversation consisting of saccharine sports and other safe harbors.
So, I think I'll try to go to future events more regularly, and hopefully get to know some of the regulars better, since I don't seem to get enough of a fix of thought-provoking conversation while I've been in limboland.
brainfart by Daniel at
5:49 PM
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