Owl Meat's Tipsy Tuesdays: The great divide
What's worse when you break up -- dividing up the friends or the bars and restaurants? I used to think friends, but now I'm not so sure. Owl Meat, do your thang:
When you part ways and your other becomes insignificant, the division of assets looms darkly. There is a harsh parceling seldom uttered – your broken social scene. How to we divide up your bars, restaurants, and other haunts?
Unless you wrangle the chupacabra of breakups, the mutual breakup, you have bar terrain to divide. Deal with it.
Rule 1: You get the bars and restaurants you brought with you.
Rule 2: There is no Rule 2.
Rule 3: Nobody talks about Fight Club ...
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I've never actually ended a relationship in a public place. I hate the idea of sitting down at a table and going through the motions with someone while all the time I know I want to call it off. In today's column, Owl Meat meditates on the idea of breaking up at a restaurant or bar.
I hope, for the sake of the people involved, that the conversation near the end of Owl Meat's column didn't actually happen. But knowing this city, I have a feeling it did. Which makes it pretty freaking awesome. Read on, Midnight Sunners: 
Back when I worked at the college newspaper, we would have occasional parties after the work was finished for the night. We'd sneak a keg into the office, set up some beer pong and such. I always kept my head down at work and didn't goof off. But I went all-out for these parties. 
After a two-week vacation, Owl Meat is back in business, with this post about music in bars. Bring it on, OMG: 
If I had to guess, I'd say I'm a regular at a couple South Baltimore bars, just because I live in the neighborhood. I'm not a fixture -- I'm a firefly, as Owl Meat would put it. 
Owl Meat Gravy has come up with a great bar discussion topic. Personally, I'd love to have a beer with George Martin or David Bowie. Take it away, Owlie:
This week, Owl Meat has somehow stumbled upon a particularly wacky group of people called Furries (it takes one to know one, Owly). Here, OMG exposes the underbelly of this hairy subset:
Oh man. Owl Meat's guest column brings back some rather nasty memories of bad tequila circa freshman year of college. I was soured on it for years. Here's Owl Meat: 
What happens after last call? Owl Meat has a few ideas. Here he is:
I couldn't help but chuckle at some of the delicious- and repulsive-sounding meals that Owl Meat came up with for this week's Tipsy Tuesdays. Football + grilled mascot = awesome. 
My, my, I've certainly regretted breaking the seal too early. Take it away, Owl Meat: 
I've played (and won, of course) my fair share of drinking games. But I've never heard of Pukes and Staggers. That's probably a good thing. Owl Meat has all the details: 
This week, Owl Meat Gravy tackles one of the saddest (but truest) parts of Baltimore's nightlife scene: the service. I'm actually not surprised that most of these examples are based on real life experiences. Take it away, OMG:
Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to give a warm round of applause to Owl Meat Gravy, who, for the forseeable future, will be writing a weekly column called Tipsy Tuesdays. 
Take it away, guest poster Owl Meat: 
I had to read this guest post from Owl Meat Gravy twice, I was so shocked this even exists: 
Here is Owl Meat Gravy with a rather spooky guest post: 
And now, dear readers, Owl Meat wonders just what's in the gullets of those Somali pirates we all know and hate: 
From the fingertips of Midnight Sun guest poster Owl Meat Gravy comes the first in a series of off-kilter bar and drink observations.
I've been The Baltimore Sun's nightlife and local entertainment reporter for a couple years, and it's surprising how much the scene has grown in that time. Most of Baltimore's bars and clubs are unpretentious places with fairly cheap drinks and plenty of character. I like dancing and think this city needs more clubs, but nothing beats having a cold, locally brewed beer with friends in a comfortably full corner bar.
