Monday, July 16, 2012

Running to the Lou


























I've griped about seat hogging fuckers on this blog before and this bitch is no exception. Again, the bus is crowded, and again I had bags in both of my hands but this ignorant cunt is lounging over two seats. This makes her already ugly face so much fucking uglier. She also has the face of someone's who's twat probably fucking reeks of rotten fucking gyros meat. You selfish fucking bitch, I hope your ham hocks that you call legs are comfortable you stupid bitch. 


























Went to Barn & Co. in Lincoln Park and had the absolutely worst BBQ I have ever tasted in my life. Fucking blasphemy calling yourself a BBQ restaurant. Not to mention how large and obtrusive their awning is. No smoke ring, every single protein that we had was dry or over cooked, the sides might as well have been cereal with all of the sugar they use, and the cheese filled link was gritty. I can't stress enough about how bad the bbq was. Any Texan would kill themselves knowing that a place of this caliber exists.


























Don't buy produce at gas stations in Southern Illinois. I ate this bitch inside out. The 12 year old boy in me giggled for about an hour and I did send this out to at least 10 friends of mine. I'm an idiot.




















Time to hang some work for my side of the gallery at Aisle 1 in St. Louis.  There is large piece missing from this group but you get the gist.




















Also had to paint the name of my show on the outside. Not bad for about 45 minutes of quick, rushed, painting in the Lou heat.


























Jenn hooked it up with a homie rate at the famed Mayfair hotel downtown. I think it is officially the oldest hotel in STL Judging by the chandeliers, I'd say that there have to be ghosts up in this bitch.




















For being an old hotel, the central air conditioning was simply amazing. This icebox made the heat damn right enjoyable.


























Ruben and I did dual solo shows in the same gallery only because we don't like each other. Here is his one piece that breaks down to 600 little pieces.





















He's aight.





















He also likes to work huge apparently.


























Some of my b.s.




























































































Postcard image.


























I love me a nice glass of scoch. I hope someone got fired for this.




















Started the next day painting with the homie big Phers ATT ICR. It was 95 degrees at 10am. This wall is maybe 5 ft tall with two dudes painting simultaneously. It took almost 7 hours to finish because of the heat.




















And then we got smart and propped up a tent to hide from the sun. Unfortunately, Phers got his redneck tan on. I just got more Filipino looking and Phers just looked more racist.




















12 bottles of water, a box of popeye's chicken, a full days of sun and a shower later, we finally get done. We combined both of our names and painted every other letter. PHEREVISE...get it?




















Wanting to eat something else besides deep fried food and beer, the gang and I decide to check out Salt.




















Basically a renovated mansion turned trendy restaurant, the upstairs house some cool rotating art. I guess it was Pete Wollager's turn this time around.


























Seasonal beer for dinner? Hell yeah. $16 only!!!




















Got hooked up with their charcuterie platter that included some seasonal in house cured salami that made me want to slap an Italian. I'd hate to make a pun but the rest of the food could have used some salt. How ironic huh? The rest of the small plates had great flavor and execution, just wish I had a touch more sodium. 


























Feeling pretty satisfied with dinner not being a quesadilla, fried chicken, or late night pizza, we went to a little speakeasy party. Everything was really cool about it except for what had to be the shittiest DJ I've ever witnessed touching turntables. Its a shame too because his music selection was awesome. Just couldn't mix a damn thing correctly. Not to mention how loud and unbalanced the sound was...turn the fucking treble down dick!


























Not letting the overloud, shittily mixed music deter our night, we went down the street to check out El Lenador.




















Fucking awesome. The name of the bar would suggest a Latin themed place but alas, it used to be a German/Bavarian lodge for raping/pillaging vikings.
 



















Now its home to weird depressing hipster bands. The bar is awesome though with a huge banquet style room adjacent to the bar. This made me really like St. Louis.


























As well as Bill Cosby's sweater used for mom shorts on a girl that had be less than 25 years old. What is this obsession with dressing like moms and hipsters? White people are so fucking strange to me the older I get. Get an identity already.




















Went to City Diner to get some late night veggie pita sandwich to be healthy which was thwarted by the extra order of chicken buffalo wings which I ate like a homeless crackhead.
 



















Promising to leave for Chicago at 11am, Ruben and I left the hotel at 11am instead and ended up leaving around 230pm. Ruben added onto his mural that he started back in November. He's not done and if you ride with him, don't ever believe his "I'm almost done," "20 more minutes," "I only have a couple of things left," or my favorite, "I'm done in like 10 minutes."




















Took at piss at Ruben's apt and noticed that his living room is also his art room. This looks like a hostage holding room. I can't even imagine how many brain cells were killed producing work in here.

Check out the show at Aisle 1 if you live in St. Louis or plan on going to St. Louis within the next three weeks! Ruben and I did really work hard and are proud of the work. Major props to Bryan Walsh and Jenn Carter for all of their hard work and hospitality. Big ups to Phers for sticking out the day and finishing the wall with me and yelling at kids trying to eat his chicken.

B is for Broke




















Started the week paying homage to a classic restaurant that is about to close its door after 25 years in the fine dining game. Trotters is one of those legendary names in the culinary world that was the first to introduce multi course classic French/American style dining to Chicago...a concept that would later on get raped, used and abused in a good and bad way. As a cook or food aficionado, this is that place that defined "fancy" food in Chicago.





















However, this place has been around for 25 years and has stayed classic in every sense of the word as far as the interior goes. I immediately felt like a 70 year old wealthy white woman.


























I don't want to sound like a dick but for a place that used to require jackets, you would think central air would be called for.


























Some oyster thing. Pretty good. Took 45 minutes to come out. We were almost done with the first bottle of wine before we started the grand menu.


























Speaking of wine, the wine encyclopedia was really really impressive boasting over 2000 bottles of wine, some costing as much as a car or someone's yearly salary. I didn't want to look like a hillbilly or anything but $35,000 for a bottle of wine from 1890? That shit better come with a free shirt that says "I bought a 35000 bottle of wine and all I got was this shirt...and now I feel fucking stupid."
 

























This was a piece of fish with squid ink, an avocado mousse and a baby pig dick or something...I would eat a burrito filled with this if I could.




















My phone shots suck. I know. This salmon did not suck.




















This duck was the shit. Chocolate Nike swoosh symbol with Charlie Trotters spit and porcini mushrooms I believe.


























This dish was amazing. The coffee dusted lamb was cooked perfectly (duh) and all of the other elements to this dish was spot on.
 



















Not a big dessert guy but this blueberry scrotum thing was the bomb.


























Strawberry shit. Was fucking delicious. By now, we are almost four hours into the dinner and the servers brought two dessert courses at once and just kind of went "oh well" and we kind of rushed in eating which was kind of bullshit but not surprising that they kind of didn't care. I wish I had made it over here in its heyday when chef Trotter was in the kitchen and had the notorious reputation for being a complete cocksucker in the kitchen. I bet the service and food was even more exceptional. The 284 dollar tab didn't justify the meal, but I'm still glad I got to try it before they close their doors in August. And yes, I did eat a whole bag of chips after the dinner.




















Time for our department "team build" at the children's museum at Navy Pier. One of the most sarcastic and jaded bunch of asshole, too cool for school know it alls interacting with children.




















We did some letter olympic thing where we were given a letter and gave clues to the kids to guess the word that begins with the corresponding letter of our apron. I was B for bastard.




















Afterwards, I got to cook at this awesome roof top deck thing with two huge grills that didn't turn on until we threw in burning pieces of cardboard into the grates. #whitepeopleproblems.
 

























Stopped by Nathan's house warming where I popped this bad boy open only after doing like 6 Jameson shots in a row. Not a good idea.


























What was a good drunken idea was to beer batter a piece of blueberry pie and deep fry it. It looks like chicken but tastes like sweet virginal vagina. Sweet and shameful.




















I have no idea how I woke up to paint this disaster the next morning, but I did dry heave and almost passed out due to the excessive heat. This was one of those days that my nutsack basically stuck to one side of my leg for the whole day.


























For followers of this blog, its been a minute since I've posted a pic of this little guy. He's gotten so freaking big that he's basically spilling out of his carriage. My brother feeds him other little babies.
 

















The homie Alfonso hooked these photos up and made me look like I'm a good cook.





































Stopped over at Maria's Packaged Goods over in Bridgeport to set up the judges for the Iron Brew going down 8/25. This is the preliminary round with the judges having to taste over 40 home brews to narrow it down to 20. Don't get me wrong, drinking beer is fun and all but when you have to sift through some good, some bad, and some just terrible, it gets a to be a long night of destroying your taste buds and wondering where the hell you are cause you drank so damn much.




















The outdoor patio was packed despite the almost 100 degree temperature outside. When its that hot out, there's nothing you can do to look good. Just sweat it out and let your body do its thing.


























July 4th came and went and in its awesomeness left me with a really bad cut. This was a doozy. Thank god for my bone to stop the knife from cutting off my tip. That's what she said.


























Got to check out El-P after working at the Bottom Lounge courtesy of the homie Sang. Don't get me wrong, El-P murdered it as usual but Killa Mike did his thang as well. All in all, a great night of music and shit beer that was stupid expensive.


























Its good to be the boss sometimes. This was my view from the catering gig at P-hood's bday party that I catered.
 



















Thats a whole lotta white.




















It was a really good party with all kinds of characters. The other tenants in the building seriously asked if this was a "rap party." Black people partying +dranks+"bitches"+asian dude making food with his white staff = rap party.




















Painted at West Fest the next day completely hungover again and all up in the sun. I have no clue how I finished this considering the shape I was in. It was nice to run into a bunch of people I haven't seen in a long time and just kickin it...what wasn't so nice was the dry heaving I was doing by the end of the night. I need to start eating before I drink. Such an easy solution.


























It was crowded, but not too crowded. Probably one of my favorite street fests in Chicago. Also one of the easiest to smuggle in your own booze/drugs.


























If you're going to lay in the street, do it with some style and class.