Kim and I walked around a bit tonight and observed how unbelievably tacky the rich assholes in this supposed cultural-center of Norfolk are. We wouldn’t live anywhere else, but I am getting a little tired of being stared at every time I walk past Amalfi. Shit.. I get stared at when I walk past the Taphouse! I don’t know whats going on, I mean, I am definitely not the most interesting looking person in Ghent. You fucking assholes don’t even acknowledge the half-dozen homeless people that are always milling around 21st & Colley, so I am honored that you find me and Kim so interesting to look at.
Well, I have noticed something about the female population of Ghent: between the ages of 15 and 19 the girls in Ghent are the most attractive they will ever be, then it seems like there is some secret ritual that, upon graduating Maury High School, you have to chug 8 gallons of melted butter before you can go to college. They hit the wall early and hard around here. Oddly enough, after they balloon up through their 30’s and 40’s they seem to go back to waifish by the time they hit 60. You can see them outside of the Naro sometimes. The old ladies in Ghent look like a bridge club of Crypt Keepers that raided Little Richard’s wardrobe. Really, do you NEED a $600 purple rhinestone hat that you will wear to the Harrison Opera House once while you pretend to appreciate opera?
And once again, what’s up with the antique shops and old-fart boutiques no one can afford that close before 5PM? I’ve said it before, but if you were really a “small business owner” you’d be open after 5PM so normal people could shop at your store. You’d want and appreciate our patronage. Owning a business is not an exclusive club. What good is a florist that I can’t even stop in after work? Who goes there? I’ve lived in Ghent for three months and I have had to buy flowers at Farm Fresh because none of you fancy fuckers were open. Remember that when you whine about “big business” taking over the mom and pop stores.
And I can’t go any further on this topic unless I bring attention to the elephant in the room, or should I say, the ATM sitting in the middle of Elliott’s Fairgrounds. That has to be the tackiest and most desperate cry for help I have ever seen. I understand you have to pay a fee to accept credit cards. We all know that. We know that it’s harder on the little guys like you than it is on Starbucks across the street. We also know that coffee doesn’t really cost 2 bucks to make, so, maybe, if you’re gonna keep the ATM, you should ditch “Donations for the use of our public computer” basket and stop acting like Elliott’s is a fucking nonprofit in need of my spare change. I love your coffee, I love your service, I love the general indie vibe of the establishment and I go there as often as I can even though I try to drink coffee at home, but, if you need more money, maybe you should try selling some food that is not 3 days old and vegan. I like turkey sandwiches, please make me one. Also, I would like to use my credit card to buy a prepay card, which, I wasn’t aware existed because the sign is tucked away in the back corner of the counter. You have to do better, folks.
Anyway, from what we could see, the weekend climax of Norfolk’s Restaurant Week consisted of fat, drunk assholes in ugly shorts and overtanned, bleach-blonde blowzers yelling and farting as they stumbled down 21st street mumbling about how much better Cora’s was than the Peruvian place (Imperio Inca) that is there now is. I know a lot of people liked Cora’s but Cora’s reminded me of the lame excuse for soul food I had when I was living in Boston. Soul Food restaurants do not have wine lists and they most certainly do not have a vegetarian or vegan menus. You know what a vegan meal is in a soul food restaurant is? A fried fish sandwich.* You can pick the ham hock out of the greens if you want, but they still taste like bacon, baby.
I love how all of the hippest of the hip restaurants are trying to hustle for Restaurant Week and there’s still more people packed into Red Dog Tavern and San Antonio Sam’s than there are at the Boot or The Green Onion.
Pearls before swine.
(There is a new Turkish place that just opened and has awesome late night hours. We’re looking forward to that.)
*That’s Kim’s line, not mine. Kim and I also stopped in the Starbucks on 21st and some woman ordered a frozen Banana chocolate chip mochachino. I mumbled my usual “Damn, what did poor old coffee ever do to her?” line and Kim’s response was “I dunno but it looks like coffee just got fucked in the ass!” How can I not love her?