Stopped in at Viva. Lots of good looking people around, including the bartenders and waitresses that were serving me and the two cougars that were sitting a few seats down from me. People there either have money or they pretend to. Most of my outfit was purchased at Goodwill. I was still the best dressed soul in that place though I was having a mediocre hair day (DAMN!).
In the bar, behind the bar I was sitting at (yes, there are 2 bars in this place, maybe more) was a one man acoustic act covering popular favorites. I think he played Losing my Religion. He sung on key and was flawless. He also had the unique skill of making every fv<k!n song sound the same, lifeless and boring. To his credit he was handsome, and a few young Reading professional chicks stuck around to hear 'em. I assume that's good culture for them. If I was in his shoes I would've parted the Red Sea, so to speak. I mean, they would've left. I shouldn't really criticize any one's performing as I tend to make a drunken spectacle of myself and I have narrow shoulders.
I got a burger and Hoegaarden. The burger was okay. The best burger I ever had was in Shadyside (Pittsburgh) at the Elbow Room, on Ellsworth Avenue (1988). Nothing I've had since then compares. At least they made it rare. The bartender who served me reminded me of a dutchie version of John Stamos (from Full House). Meaning he was good eye candy if I was a homosexual or a girl. He was eye candy none-the-less.
On the television screen they had ESPN on and I found out the old manager of the Big Red Machine (1970's era Cincinnati Reds) Sparky Anderson died today. He was born in 1934. Only four years older than my dad. That made me realize the old folks won't be around forever. That's a sad thought, but it's life. I'm happy my parents take better care of themselves than I do. Maybe they'll out live me.
There really isn't anything deep or thoughtful you're left with when you leave West Reading. On a bright side I found a spot with good looking yuppie snapper, but those types want nothing to do with me. Most types actually. I want little to with them, maybe five minutes worth. I have a bad attitude towards a lot of things.
I pulled out of the parking lot in the Mazda3 listening to a little Al Stewart, wondering if this was indeed, The Year of the Cat.
(I love sappy endings to blogs-(this was done intentionally))
(Viva's food is over priced for what you get, you're also paying for atmosphere too)
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