Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Best of Ryan Rowe aka Screw Yelp v2.4

Bar None
Category: Bars
Neighborhood: Marina/Cow Hollow

This place is a PG-13 frat party.
Now what about that sentence sounds cool or appealing?
You make the call.

For me...
I can do PG-13 dinners, I can do PG-13 picnics, I can do PG-13 bowling.
I can even do frat parties...if they were, say NC-17ish.
But PG-13 is So...boring.

There is something just generally cheezy feeling about Bar None...Its like you're in an "American Pie" movie that hasn't come out yet, with no original actors, straight to DVD.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

(Las) Vegas

Vegas is great.
For 3 days and 2 nights, hedonism is religion. Well, to be perfectly honest, that 3rd day is hardly hedonistic, unless you consider headaches, sleep deprivation, nausea, exhaustion and hunger a good time, but hey, to each his own.
...but those first 2 days and nights, watch out!--you know, if you have money that is.
I stayed at the finest hotels, ate the finest meals at the finest restaurants, partied at the finest clubs, and gambled...well, at the $10 tables and 25cent slots. Nevertheless, I started to think how different Vegas was as a 25-yr-old, compared to the Vegas I experienced as a 19-yr-old.

Let's take a look:

19-yr-old Ryan drove to Vegas from Sacramento in a Hyundai with 3 other dudes in the car, broke down once, taking 12 hours to get there.
25-yr-old Ryan flew to Vegas for free, from San Francisco, comfortably in a little over an hour.

19-yr-old Ryan stayed off the strip at a budget hotel walking distance to a Jack-in-the -Box and an old Lyon's that had been converted into a mini casino.
25-yr-old Ryan stayed on the 14th floor of the MGM Grand for free, walking distance to the strip,New York-New York and Paris.

19-yr-old Ryan actually walked.
25-yr-old Ryan takes cabs and limos.

19-yr-old Ryan goes to the Stratosphere because his friend Justin's mom has a lounge gig that night.
25-yr-old Ryan parties at the exclusive, membership-only Foundation Room on the top floor of Mandalay Bay because a friend works for House of Blues Corporate and can "hook it up".

19-yr-old Ryan drinks 79 cent Steel Reserve tall-boys from the AM/PM out of his buddy Justin's mom's minivan.
25-yr-old Ryan drinks exotic liquor and top shelf vodka in clubs at luxurious casinos.

19-yr-old Ryan eats at the Jack-in-the-Box across the street and gambles at the Lyon's that was converted into a casino in his flip flops, t-shirt and cargo shorts.
25-yr-old Ryan eats at Daniel Boulud at the Wynn and gambles in the Venetian in his brand new suit and shined shoes.

Thats right suit.

Funny how life as a 25-yr-old seems so much more cushy than life as a 19-yr-old, yet all that stuff I did as a 19-yr-old still seems so appealing. I always knew I was a 19-yr-old, trapped in a 25-yr-old body, this confirms it. I am, however, left with some questions...Is this a sliding scale (when I'm 30 will I find my days as a 25-yr-old appealing?) or will I perpetually be 19? When will my age catch up with me?...or will it?

Monday, April 21, 2008

What Does 4 20 Mean?

Everyone has heard the stories, the explanations, the reasons, the correlations and the 'who-started-what's' in relation to the three numbers: 4, 2, 0.
Something about the number of chemicals, or a police code, or some kids in Santa Barbara, or Hitler's Birthday...even when I feel like I've heard it all, someone comes up with a new explanation for the significance of the numbers 4, 2, 0, each and every one vague and totally unproven at best.
Despite the nonsense, there is a whole legion of people who celebrate 4.20, the date and time, as a high holiday(heh). With countless variations of festivities, there is one common thread among those who celebrate...Marijuana. It's kinda the whole point, actually.

What cracks me up, is the notion that this date and time has some sort of special meaning or importance more than any other day of the week or year. I mean, it's not like one would buy some really "bomb chronic" on 4.17 and save it for 4.20, like you would with say, steaks on Labor Day, or a ham on Christmas.

Nevertheless, its somewhat of a movement, and inspiring enough for people all over the world(?) to come together and smoke pot with one another.

This Sunday, April 20th, I was in what some might consider the epicenter of 4.20 festivities, Hippie Hill in San Francisco, California. Despite the several thousand people congregating in Sharon Meadows, commonly referred to as "Hippie Hill" with no real attraction or event, the most entertaining part of the day was overhearing conversations like this:

Soccer Mom(with 2.5 kids): "Wow, look at all those people, what's going on today?"
Dude hackey-sacking: "Oh, its 420"
Soccer Mom: "Whats that?"
Dude: "It's a celebration...of marijuana"
Soccer Mom: "Cover your eyes kids! It's time to go"

Friday, April 18, 2008

Best of Ryan Rowe aka Screw Yelp v2.3

21st Amendment Brewery
Categories: Pubs, Breweries, Restaurants
Neighborhood: Soma

"You going to the game?"
"Fuck Yeah"
*high five*

Soooo douchey pre-game. And it hurts my heart.
Ive been coming here for years - I now work across the street and I still come in at least once a week for lunch...had some great beer(they have great beer!), some good bar food and had some great times.

The wait staff is great, the brewpub interior just 'feels' like a good place to drink, TV's with sports...21A is pretty rad.

But I can't stand the pre-game clientele. So whack.

Friday, April 4, 2008

Tainting the Game

"God Bless America, land that I love. Stand beside her, and guide her duh duduh, duh duduh, duh duduh! Stand beside her, and guide her, do duhdoo, do duhdoo, do duhdoo!"

Why do we sing this song at baseball games?

For whatever reason, during the seventh inning of every baseball game since 9/11/2001, some fire chief or random American Idol reject gets on the mic in every ball park from Seattle to Miami (not sure about Canada yet), and sings one of the oddest choices of "Hooray America" songs ever. I don't know, I may have heard it once in Kindergarten, or played it on one of those little plastic flutes during music hour in 3rd grade.
Seriously, the song's a little childish, and almost feels like were patronizing ourselves when the P.A. announcer makes everyone stand up in his serious voice to hear some obese opera singer tenor, belt out the words to the song with the bouncy-ball sing-a-long on the jumbotron at baseball games.

The truth is, no one knows the words, we already sang the National Anthem, 24% of the players are foreign-born and this whole uber-nationalistic propaganda feels too painfully forced to even be taken seriously.

And honestly, what is more American than "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"?

Effective immediately, I have begun a silent protest of the singing of "God Bless America". While everyone stands like sheep, I will sit in protest, and I ask you to find the reason and the courage to join me.