New Colors

Welcome to the new and improved Verona Red blog site color scheme! Now more Verona Red-ey than ever before. Hopefully now the color scheme won't make anyone reading the blog suicidally depressed. We'll leave that to the content.

On Saturday night a great debate raged at Verona Red headquarters; how shall we celebrate this Easter Eve, the anniversary of the night before your Lord and mine, Jesus Christ, miraculously rose from the dead, generally creeping a lot of people out and paving the way for Verona Red, some of the great sinners of our time, to redeem their souls? Where exactly should we get drunk? After making all the requisite calls starting with people we actually wanted to see and finishing with the dregs of our cell phone lists the realization hit that most people weren't around and were in fact inexplicably (and inexcusably) spending this holiest of weekends with their families. If this night was going to be salvaged it was going to be through hard work and determination, which is just about the time that Chris suggested Stadium West.

Stadium West is a little dive bar in the less fashionable part of Avondale, only a few short steps from the Verona Red cave. It has one pool table, is lit entirely by strung up icicle lights, and the men's bathroom smells pleasantly of sandalwood and a hint of lavender. It is reputed by and large to be a hot ticket for cougars and biker chicks. And so we went with high hopes and a dream to penetrate ladies significantly past their prime and hopefully not get penetrated ourselves by the male biker counterparts that were clearly so unable to satisfy their needs. The first step in the door saw an end to that dream. The Asian lady bartender was over on the far side of the bar, chatting it up with the three patrons of the establishment (four if you include the pregnant Jack Russell terrier who seemed to be a bit drunk herself). A warm greeting there was not, homegrown local talent though we were, and we settled ourselves at the opposite end of the bar. We were close enough to the door to run in case the two beefy men decided we were too much competition to attract the attention of the slurring used-up woman who owned the dog and leave them with nothing but each other and a potentially lifestyle changing series of bad decisions. As we were hastily finishing our drinks, the phone call that salvaged the night was received and we were off to Merkle's .... and it is a sad sad night when the prospect of Merkle's is so unanimously approved and eagerly awaited.

At Merkle's we met up with some of the fine Perishables ladies and enjoyed some cold beverages. A critical point was almost reached when one random creeper was spotted getting a bit too friendly with some lady friends. After watching this guy for a while, it was concluded that he had come to the bar by himself and made the life choice to creep on every single girl at the bar with the hopes that at least one would be drunk enough to make some bad decisions. As we all know God loves a drunk-en potential rapist and so by some grace of His this guy did not linger too long creeping on the ladies whose honor we were obligated to defend with our fists in his face and our asses in a local jail cell. The night concluded and the pilgrimage back to Avondale began.