I know it’s been all too long since I’ve posted to this bad-boy, but last night I found myself in the GADAMN dimension once more, but this time rather accidentally.
For whatever reason I really wanted to check out Champps Restaurant & Bar down in the South Philly IKEA shopping center parking lot. Why I wanted to go to an eatery located in a parking lot, I’m not sure, but I wanted to see what it was all about. I quickly realized that it was a sports bar that very much appeals to those people in our area with the thick is-that-jersey/is-that-north-east/is-that-deep-south-philly accent. Every single TV they owned was bigger than any single TV I had ever seen. I swear there was one that was 10 feet, corner to corner. It was a moving picture wall, more than a TV.
We sat and I perused the menu. Thankfully they had all of the calories listed right below the food titles, so I could do some swift calculations on how bad I would feel immediately after the meal. Their “Mile High Nachos” came in at a whopping 3329 calories. That was an appetizer.
I didn’t get it.
… but you better believe me when I say that I wanted to.
The waitress came over and asked us if we wanted any appetizers. “Interesting question!” I said to her and ordered a Patron Lemonade in the meantime. I left the decision up to my fiancé while I trotted off to the bathroom to take a leak. When I walked in I saw, what looked to be, a bright orange-maroon splooge of cat barf all over the sink and the floor. As if some bipedal, four and a half foot cat couldn’t quite make it to the sink after eating an order of nachos all by themselves. The bathroom smelled like some terrible maple syrup flavored pumpkin candle and an automatic oder neutralizer spritzer had a baby and I was smelling that baby’s ass.
When I got back to the table the buzzardly waitress ran up and started grilling me about the appetizers. I said we weren’t going to have any, and we’d just skip right to “the food.” She said “well, maybe dessert then… What’ul ya’ have?”
We both got salads. Shannon’s was the steak salad. Mine was the cobb. There was literally nothing notable about either, other than the wild farts and gut blasting diarrhea I’ve had ever since eating them. Like, I mean, if there was a way for me to embed a fart smell on a website, believe me, I would. You need to know what this smells like.
I had Instagram’d the sign out front (and hashtagged it #gadamn, of course) and a mutual friend responded with “They had one of these shit holes in the concord mall in Wilmington DE. I used to call it Chumps because you’d have to be a naive idiot to pay what they were asking (which for Wilmington, DE was too much!” and immediately “My gentle apologies if you ate there and enjoyed it.” He was so right. If this blog had a rating system, I’d put this place somewhere between Cici’s and the dumpster behind Cici’s.
Anyway, the night concluded with The Adventures Of Buckaroo Bonzai Across The 8th Dimension. The storyline is as follows:
Neurosurgeon/Rock Star/Superhero Buckaroo has perfected the oscillation overthruster, which allows him to travel through solid matter by using the eighth dimension. The Red Lectroids from Planet 10 are after this device for their own evil ends, and it’s up to Buckaroo and his band and crime-fighting team The Hong Kong Cavaliers to stop them.
My fucking god. That movie was doing acid on a mushroom trip inside of a pregnant woman huffing gasoline and shooting mescaline into her eyeballs.
Anyway, John Lithgow plays the villain, Jeff Goldblum plays a character named “New Jersey” and Christopher Lloyd, a character named John Bigboote.
Definitely worth a drunken stare-at, in my opinion.