off to the races.

It's a lucky thing for Big Joe's that I'm not a member of PETA, otherwise they would've been shut down about five minutes ago. Some of you may have not heard of this joint.. allow me to fill you in. It's your standard dive, but with a twist. Horses race, greyhounds race, but turtles? Sure, turtles definitely race now. I like to envision them lounging in cashmere robes, enjoying the comforts of a  spacious penthouse terrarium in the back room when not being expected to scoot their little shells two feet to the finish line, so let's pretend that I'm right. As part of my pal's birthday shindig, everyone's names were entered into the races. When I was called up to participate (and by participate, I mean have your name associated with a turtle that you have zero control over), the emcee said that I may have been the least enthusiastic looking person to ever be a part of a race. This was my fault, as I should have known that two beers would not be neeearly enough to make me comfortable with the evening's events. In other words, I should've had that vodka pineapple cocktail much sooner. Anyhoo, the turtle whose name I drew was Jolanda, who is also dubbed "the slowest f-cking turtle in the world," and obviously doesn't take shit from anyone. I was less than thrilled in knowing I'd never have a shot at winning the free t-shirt, but I have to say that I do recommend trying this out for yourself. Obviously Jolanda didn't win. Instead, she just sat there and stared at me while I debated snatching her up and running for the nearest available taxi, saving her from a life of empty competition, only to return home to realize that I had a new pet turtle. That didn't happen either. However, I did do something new and semi-exciting (again, drink more and you'll be better for it) in the dead of a Chicago winter and that, my friends, is the ultimate fete.