The wings of "The Owl."

So after a long day of doing nothing in particular, my uncle Matt proposes a road trip across town to Woodman's Liquor (or as I will now refer to it, "The coolest effing place on Earth.) This of course is no easy task, as the 172 was down to one lane, and the detour we decided to take via Riverside to Mason St was also blocked off due to construction. Finally we get there, through a torrential rain storm, I might add, with an appalling (but Wisconsin law mandated) four minutes of shopping time. This place is like Willy Wonka's chocolate factory for soakers like myself. The selection is unparralled, compared to any other adult beverage selling establishment I've ever been in. I settled for a $12.99 case of Busch Light for now, but it shant be my only trip ever, this thing I know is true.

So, on the way home, Matt suggests that we stop for a quick drink at "The Owl." I'm thinking, "sweet!", a local joint, I imagine with a sports theme, or something similar. I'd love to get a look at some of the local watering holes down here. Sooo.... "The Owl" is actually "Hooters", an establishment that I've avoided my entire life for a couple of reasons, including a) my resentment of overly expensive theme joints, and b) the complete lack of "stare control" I usually experience around women with large breasts. So, sucking up my reservations, I forced myself to go in and have a pitcher. All I can say, is that Hooters had something that no other place I had ever been could provide for me...chicken wings that I actually liked. They're called something like cajun wings and they are the Shiz to the MF'n Nit. Unfortunatly, my newfound love for these wings will force me to drag myself, and likely others, into that Hooters restaurant time and time again. Poor me. But, I am willing to make that sacrifice for good wings. I've always said that.

I'm finished.
Nate