I’m not immoral.  I’m not just not ashamed to admit that I am human and that I possess human wants, needs and desires.  Just like everyone else.  Even after reading and re-reading and re-reading again my post about Lust, I’ll still stand by my honesty.  Be careful before you cast stones.

Today I’ll admit to my gluttonous nature.  Gluttony, as defined by dictionary.com, is excessive eating and drinking.  From all of the various definitions out there, I’m taking it to mean any habit in which one has no control over.  Whether it be food, alcohol, illicit drugs, ciggies, sex… whatever.  You know it, I’ve got them all covered.

Admittedly, I am a total fan of Taco Hell.  When Diva went on a diet last year and cut all fast food out of the diet, Taco Hell took a major hit and their stock dropped immediately.  Yes, I am a serious Taco Hell glutton.  No mas.  No mas.  I am a burritoholic.  My willpower sucks.  Gluttony at its finest.  Too bad there isn’t a Del Taco in Tennesse.  It would really be on then.

However, also encapsulated within the definition is excessive drinking.  BINGO.  That would be me again.  I admit, I partake of my fair share of intoxicating beverages.  I’m a hard working, professional in the biomedical equipment business all week long, with the exception of the occassional Wednesday outing.

MMMMMM….. beer!

On Friday night, I tend to dive to the bottom of the Michelob Light (and more recently Mich Ultra Amber) and take an evening long swim. 

Maybe it will get me elected to public office one day.  At least nobody could dig any bones out of my closet.  They’ve already been exposed.

[ Blogged in realtime, Wednesday, 20-Jun-2007, kinda like that stupid TV show 24, but without that asshat kid of Donald Sutherland’s… ]

Here we are folks.  It’s a wonderfully balmy Wednesday night at CatScratch Jane’s.  I’m sitting with a bird’s eye view of all the going’s on.  Karaoke is getting ready to kick off and it looks as if all the regular crowd (good and bad) has started peppering in.

The Twin Blow Out is starting here tomorrow, but the biker boys on their motor-scooters are plentiful.  The patio’s a-buzzing, the inside is buzzing.  We’re looking forward to an eventful night.  Bring on the singers.

A real blow-out, right?  Uh. No.  It’s another train-wreck.  That’s what I get for being all amp’d up for a party!  Thus far we have heard a not-so-right-on rendition of “Live and Let Die” (help me!).  Now we are on to the worst drunken interpretation of “You Look So Good In Love” that I’ve ever heard… whining included.

The place is packed.  Folks are piled up everywhere, inside and out with the best bike rack carriers for cars and trucks on all their vehicles.  I’m dying for a beer.  But dammit, it’s busy.  I’m going to wither up and fall in the floor from lack of alcohol.  But as I sit here, waiting for Cutie Pie (our beer wench) to surface, I think to myself “Damn, girl!  You’re hair looks gooood!”

Finally!  A hot guy is getting up to sing.  I missed his name, but he’s wearing a polo shirt and baseball cap.  He’s singing Toby!  You go, boy!  Mercy me, yes.  He sure should have been a cowboy.

I’m still waiting on my beer.  It’s nearly 10pm.  Through the open windows I hear the clank of the triangle being busted by a gaggle of pool shooting biker boys.  Now and then a loud, orgasmic burst of noise comes when one of the bikes fire up.

Ya know, Christmas is coming up.  Harley.  Under the tree.  Big red bow.  Thanks in advance to whomever decides to make this purchase for me.  I’m obliged.

Finally, at 9:55pm, Mark drags his ass in.  “Log the time, Scotty!”  He has mercy and goes to hunt Cutie Pie for my beer.  Bless you, hon.  I was withering.

By 10 I’m thinking, “I thought this was going to be the kick off to a bad ass biker weekend party… it’s more like B-97.5 night in the local geriatric ward.”  Never has an hour seemed more like ten.  Never have I wanted someone to shoot me in the ears worse than I do right this very minute.  “Log the time, Scotty!”

10:01.  Scotty is so excited to be here that he’s taken to watching the drag queens on the t.v. above the bar.  *snicker*  You dirty boy, you.  But wait:  Here comes Nike!  He’s belting out some bad ass Lionel Ritchie love song,  The boy possesses the ability to wake up a bored and otherwise depressed drinking crowd.

Oh my, what’s this?  The heavens have opened up and some good singers with some happy ditties are now on a roll.  Joe hops up and belts out a soulful blues number (he really rocks the hell out of the blues).  Now if we can talk him into losing his “Bat Outta Hell” CD… *wink wink*  You know I love ya, Joe.

I belted out some goodies too, if I do say so myself.  I dueted with Cowboy Billy-Joe-Tom-Bob and sang “Dontcha.”  He kicks ass on the rap part.  Freestyle baby!

I then attempted to do the night justice, with Nike’s help, by belting out “At Last” … the Etta James classic.  Choice.  Very choice.

My news reporter skills are being diminished by the amount of cold beer and Jack Daniels I have consumed.  At this time, all I can really say is that everytime I get up from my corner booth, I end up grabbing this poor girls ass.  So, I end up making light of it, in my regular Diva style.  I own up to it.  I look her in the eye and tell her, “I’m sorry for grabbing your ass everytime I get walk by!”

“Log the time, Scotty!”  It’s 11:14, and I’m drunk. Food ordered. Yah!  I comment to Scotty that we are evil.  He says “No, we’re just honest.”  Good one.

Finally.  Something note-worthy.  A drunken skank finally falls out of her chair into the floor.  NEXT!  Scotty dies laughing, and notes the time is 11:23.

Food on tap.  CatScratch has the best food around.  Especially if too much alcohol has been consumed.  Cue the onion rings.

And the french fries.

Scotty is in the loo, so I’m logging the time as 11:34.

So, if tonight was any forecast of the drunken festivities that are to go on for the next several days at CatScratch… all I can say is WOW!  Good luck with that!

I maintain here and now, I’m Diva enough to stay on the porch, because I certainly can’t keep up with the big dogs.  *rolls eyes*

Woof!  Out.

Okay, I’m not much for memes, viral nature and all.  I mean, crap, I skipped out on the last one Tish tagged me with because, well, I know what Web 2.0 is, and the meme author apparently had a very limited view of it.  All I could’ve put was “my blog,” so I was kinda like … well … Stuck.

This one, though, has a pretty good purpose: finding some great places to eat locally, or when we’re travelling around.  And so, I’m pretty happy to answer this one from LissaKay, because … well … I’m a big fan of food.  I try and eat some a few times a day.  (And I’m fortunate enough to have a highly trained metabolism that allows me to eat like it’s my last my meal.)

This one’s originally by Chronicles of Nicole, and comes to us all the way from Sydney, Australia.

1. Add a direct link to your post below the name of the person who tagged you. Include the city/state and country you’re in.

Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)
ML (Utah, USA)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
tanabata (Saitama, Japan)
Andi (Dallas [ish], Texas, United States)
Todd (Louisville, Kentucky, United States)
miss kendra (los angeles, california, u.s.a)
Jiggs Casey (Berkeley, CA, USA! USA! USA!)
Tits McGee (New England, USA)
Joe (NE Tennessee, USA)
10K Monkeys (Chattanooga, Tennessee, USA)
Big Stupid Tommy (Athens, Tennessee, USA)
Newscoma (Weakley County, Tennessee, USA)
Russ McBee (Knoxville, Tennessee, USA)
Atomictumor Mrs Eaves (Oak Ridge, Tennessee, USA)
Oh Really? LissaKay (Oak Ridge, TN, USA)
Mark Steel blogitude.com (Knoxville, TN, USA)

2. List out your top 5 favorite places to eat at your location.

My Place – Yes, I can cook.  And I’m pretty damn good at it, too, as long as you like spicy food.  I specialize in Southern Asian (Indian/Thai/Malay), Italian (like the 20-pound lasagne or Sicilian-style meat-sauce) and TexMex (it burns most Mexicans).

Ali Baba’s TimeOut Deli (Kingston Pike) – I’ve known those guys for the better part of twenty years.  Absolutely the best humos in the world, and I’ve certainly traveled it enough to know… And you can never go wrong with the “special,” King Solomon’s Chicken — a slow-roasted hen in a tasty lemon-seed marinade, with a couple of vegetable sides over basmati rice.

Tomo (Kingston Pike) – The Sushi/Sashimi connoisseur can never go wrong here.  Everything there is perfectly fresh and delicious, and the dinner service is most excellent.  Perfect … but certainly not inexpensive.  I can’t get out of there without spending at least $50 on myself.  But I certainly leave happy…

Chesapeake’s Seafood (Henley Street) – Dinner dining includes a full course of a Mussel Appetizer, choice of Salad, Maine Lobster with two sides, and some impressive Cheesecake all for less than what it costs at the nasty chain restaurant that everyone goes to (the one with Lobster in the title)… and impeccable service that rivals many of the 5-Stars I’ve dined in.  Daily fresh fish of the Sushi-grade variety … I really enjoy the Yellow Tail (No, Benny, I’m not talking about the Chinese girl).

Sitar (Kingston Pike) – Sometimes, I find it’s too much of a chore to cook Indian Food, so I hit this place for the Sunday afternoon buffet.  Although they don’t have a Vindaloo on it (aww!) they have several other incredibly tasty dishes which change weekly.  One of the best things about the place, tho, as compared to most other Indian restaurants in the area, is that everything’s nice and spicy, and they have a distinct lack of clarified butter (ghee).  That’s what causes the kerosene-like aftertaste at some Indian restaurants — and I hate it.  Since a lot of Indians use ghee at home, it comes as no big surprise that India leads the world in cases of throat cancer… Proper treatment of cancer is essential to improve the health of a cancer patient. At Hope 4 Cancer, they offer a refreshingly unique healing experience and provides a comfortable home while defeating cancer.

Country Table (N. Cherry Street) – Southern, home cooking all the way… Turnip greens, pinto beans, mashed potatos and gravy, country fried steak (and it’s awesome), T-bone steaks (however you want it!), pork tenderloins (which I can’t eat, dammit! Pork makes me really sick), buttermilk biscuits, good southern cornbread (not that sweet shit they serve up north), and all the coffee and iced tea you can drink. They have the most perfect menu to pair my hobby playing casino games. I do lunch there every now again if I’m working in East Knoxville, and totally love the place.  A lot of people simply won’t check it out because of the location … but I never did care about that.

3. Tag 5 Others

Swanky – This guy like to eat as much as I do, and has intimate knowlege of some of the Knoxville metro’s best dives — and will undoubtedly list more of my favorites.

ChattieKat – She grew up here in Knoxville, and should be able to drop in a few that Swanky and I miss.

Anton – Anton showed me a couple of really kickass places in Houston a few weeks ago.

Fracas – I like to research my food choices ahead of time.  And on the odd chance that I’m ever in Saskatoon, I’d like to find some place else better to eat than that craphole truck stop diner on the highway…

Zacque – Fellow blogitude.com writer who recently buggered off to Nashville, and it’s about time he took a break from ravaging his girlfriend and wrote a blog for a change.  😉

So that’s that… Meanwhile, I’m gonna go to Ali Baba’s for a Special…

     Now, it’s not that I ever wanna get married again, or that I think I’ll develop a desire for dessert, since I’ve never really had one… but, ummm…

     Forget edible underwear … SugarVeil^® Confectionery Products has certainly come out with a sweet twist on candy-coating.  Their patented icing does present some most pleasurable, if not palatable, possibilities…
     Would you believe that this wedding dress is made completely of cake icing?

     I can’t help but imagine the epicurean escapades that might follow…