Vine of Sodom

That's what I love about this century. Got a question in your head? Consult wikipedia. Today, my curiosity led me to Sodom and Gamorrfmslfijsposegoaflihaetoa. I don't know how to spell it. I could check my browser history but I'm lazy (a downside of the luxuries that living in this century brings us)...plus, I don't want to forget the point I had in mind while starting this entry.

So I have a dream of owning a restaurant. Maybe a few, each of varied clientele. I'd really like for one of them to be called Vine of Sodom. Sounds like a dark, sophisticated wine bar that takes risks in order to please its guests. Of course it also sounds like something that would make the female members of my family faint. Except for Pattie of course. She'd just laugh her ass off. Which is why she'd be in primary charge of running it. I'd probably be checking the back stock of mozzarella at Licorice Pizza...or making sure those damn teenagers I hire aren't stealing my carne asada from the cooler at 5 South (yeah, I kind of stole that name from Ricky).

Anyway, I like double entendres and funny names like that. I'm sad that some of them are taken though, like A Salt and Battery. But at least the boys (Danny, Ed, Steve and my dad) can still have their own microbrewery: Davy Jones Lager (you have to be buzzed and in a pirate-y mood to get it).

Some of the menu items I'm working on:
- Tequila Mockingbird (tequila-lime quail)
- Anne Rice Pudding (made with blood-red wine)
- Shia LaBeouf Bourgignon (hmmm...prepared by a whiny cook and served way before its prime)?

Just kidding Shia. You know I love you. Well...no. I'm really quite indifferent toward you.
It's Ryan and Perla who misguidedly love you.
Anyway, that's all for now. Here's to good wine and the flashes of genius they provide us.

Cheers