High Time

Yes, it's been a while. Yes, our readership has dwindled to negative numbers (when we post now, people turn off their computers and sit quietly). And yes, it's time to get back on the blogospherical horse.

I'll keep it brief and anecdotal for the moment:

Yesterday, I went to a bachlor party at one of those brazilian churrascaria restaurants out in Queens. Called the Master Grill, it is essentially the equivalent of sitting at the end of a meat processing conveyor belt. Each table gets a wooden peg with a green top and a red top and uses it to signal the need and hunger for more meat from waiters wandering the restaurant or to signal, 'dear god, we're full, please stop bringing said meat to the table.' If you're a fan of gorging yourself and then using excess meat in any number of whimsical table games (How much meat can YOU cram into a wineglass?!?) AND you LOVE the happy birthday song (played at least a dozen times in the two hours we spent there), go here!

Long story short, a friend of mine stole the red and green peg from the restaurant and has thus far been unsuccessful in applying its power to other locations.