rivercityvibe   “Puerile, smutty, schoolboy nonsense” – My Mom

Two world class Rugby League teams descend on Jacksonville this weekend as guests of the Jacksonville Axemen, our local gang of sports-hooligans. I went to the international game last year (it takes place annually). There I witnessed a team from Yorkshire, England, DESTROY a team from Sydney, Australia. I am glad to see that the Axemen’s Spinner Howland (himself Australian) who arranges this game every year, had the sense to dispense with the  southern hemisphere this time. He’s arranged for the game to be played by two teams from what the usual source tells me is the cradle and spiritual home of Rugby –  the north of England.

For reasons that I will not (cannot, without a pain) go into, I won’t be attending the game this year. I will, however, have agents there to report on it. There’s a lot of tailgating involved and it will be huge.

One thing I am not missing is tonight’s  pre-game party at my buddy Drew’s O’Brothers pub in Five Points. The Axe Maiden Cheerleaders will be there, and the festivities start at 7.30 pm. I’ll report on it tomorrow, probably…….

I was going to put up a pic of Selma Hayek and her awesome rack under the headline “Golden Globes”, because at last night’s celebration, she (they) looked awesome.

Actually, I still might.

But the best part of the whole ceremony was Ricky Gervais (the guy who invented The Office) showing the audience how to make a joke about the holocaust and get away with it. This poor quality clip is on youtube. I’ll try and upgrade it when I can. (done).

“Well done, Winslet”. Classic.

I had been trying to dislike Avondale bistro, Orsay. I LOVED Crush, its predecessor, and was, I now realize, unreasonably put out by the fact that Crush had better french fries  and that Orsay’s management put such great store on now offering cocktails. Like I want a chocolate martini with my Onglets de Bouef……

Also, and this is critical. I expect restaurants to follow industry convention and have a HOT, HOT, HOT babe as a greeter. Sadly absent at Orsay.

But that’s as much criticism as they are getting. For my fourth visit I took foodie friends with me from the beach. They loved it, and so did I. From the beginning to the end of the experience, it was Jacksonville Excellent. The service, however, was Jacksonville Outstanding. Let me explain why.

Spelled "complement" wrong, I'm afraid.

I arrived half loaded, so did not fancy the switch from beer to wine. I noticed that they only had Bass on draft (other than hateful lagers) so I asked our server Matt (who will be from now, known as Super Matt) if they had any bottled Sierra Nevada. He, in his rock star cool way, answered in the negative. I lamented the fact, and he said, full of confidence,  “Don’t worry, sir. I can do this.”

Before I could restrain him, he was out the door and sprinting for the Liquor Store opposite (did I detect a little showmanship in his comedy run….?) . I watched Super Matt through the glass. He picked up a six pack, paid for it, and returned to the restaurant via the OTHER door (nice touch, Super Matt).

Seconds later, a frosty cold mug of palatable beer appeared. The fact that I had alienated and annoyed my whole party by ‘imposing’ on Super Matt in this way, lent a certain frisson to our table atmosphere. Super Matt wasn’t bothered. He took it all in his stride. The legend.

We had girls with us, so were forced to order plates of things and share them. I hate this style of feeding, but the food made up for it. It was Jacksonville Excellent –  very enjoyable and cooked to perfection. The upside of the sharing thing, was, of course, I could eat most of what was provided. And I did (leading to more tension).

Orsay is awesome (see what I did there?). Go tonight. Call Crystal on 904 381 0909.

I cannot believe we have not had the lovely Lucy Pinder, yet. Behold:

Well done you.

Back to a proper blogging schedule next week – restaurant reviews, witty observations and Lohan’s rack.

Only on rivercityvibe.com

We are the champions.

Continuing our dubious theme of “classic” music, here is the late lamented Freddie Mercury, playing the piano in his undies. It’s a tribute to the University of Florida Gators (and, if I know Freddie, Tim Tebow in particular………)

While we’re on the subject of celebrities whose lives are in the shitter, let’s talk about Mickey Rourke. At one stage, Angel Heart was near the top of my all time great movie list (it has two of my favorite things in it – female nudity and voodoo). He was also in 9 1/2 Weeks, which was, to an eighties child, pretty much the last word in erotic titillation. Like Strap on Midget is for today’s kids……

Anyway, he’s been away on the usual spiral of drug-fueled self-indulgence for the last twenty (count ’em) years. Various newspapers report that he has now got his act together (the fact that he has NO money may have helped) and is all set for an Oscar nomination for his part in upcoming wrestling flick, errrr, The Wrestler*:

Apparently, it is a dead cert for some kind of recognition. The  trailer below reveals a movie big on crying and pathos. On the upside, there are strippers in it:

I was going to make some crack about his facial appearance these days, but as it is evidently a congenital condition, I won’t…..

As it is not the kind of movie I would automatically recommend to you, I intend to see it before y’all. So as to give you thumbs up or thumbs down.

That’s how much I love you.

(*Already out in some theaters. I have to put this or the movie geeks will bombard me with sneering emails. It’s not all beer and babes, this job, you know…….)

It is a staple of the crime and punishment debate that prison holds no fear for some, negating its supposed deterrent effect. I am sure that you, like me, welcome the efforts of a criminal court judge in Australia to rectify this and increase the fear factor of a custodial sentence among young people. In issuing a formal warning to a young, persistent offender, Reuters reports that Magistrate Brian Maloney said,

“You’ll find big, ugly, hairy strong men (in jail) who’ve got faces only a mother could love that will pay a lot of attention to you — and your anatomy,”

and that breaching any of the conditions set for the teenagers release would see him,

“showering with the gorillas in the mist down at Long Bay jail.”

He's goin' to get him some......

It gives you faith, doesn’t it? I have never been to Australia but on the strength of this, I’d like to. Apparently it is not anything like you’ve been led to expect through Crocodile Dundee movies. One of my buddies came back and described it as:

“Surprisingly as you’d imagine 1940’s Britain…..”

Surprisingly, the marriage of Verne Troyer (known best as Mini Me, from Austin Powers), to 5’6″ Playboy model Genevieve Gallen was not entirely a bed of roses. On the upside, there was a lot of creative sex

She recalls: “I would dress up in my sexiest lingerie every day and try all sorts of role-play games. Sometimes I dressed as a prostitute, other times a cheerleader—and even a schoolgirl.

“I once put on a dark wig, some sexy lingerie and put on a Russian accent so he would think I was a high class call girl.

On the downside, his pad was very small:

…….she felt like Alice in Wonderland when she first went back to Verne’s place . . . a SHED at the the end of his manager’s garden. “It was a little off-putting because everything was so small,” says Genevieve.

“There was a miniature futon and a miniature refrigerator and bed. The light switches were all down at the level of my knee and the toilet was no bigger than a child’s potty.”

Conjures up downright WEIRD images......

The News of the World also reports that Troyer’s drink problem turned him into Doctor Evil and spelled the end for the fairytale marriage (see what I did there?):

Gernevieve claims the star would knock back up to a litre of vodka and a 12-pack of Budweiser in a single day. It soon affected their sex life.

“Soon after I met him he almost drank himself to death. I heard he was in hospital and when I got there he was lying in bed covered in vomit and diarrhoea,” says Genevieve.

Not ideal. The Lollipop Guild were pissed. He’s ruining it for all aspiring little people who want some Playboy strange.

I note that the former Yugolsav nation of Croatia has joined the rivercityvibe community. Dobro došli, y’all!

In celebration, here is the lovely Nikolina Pisek:

Croatia is our NATO ally, these days. Result!

As you may know, I am a big fan of craft beers, particularly traditional beers from the British Isles.

Beer that has not been ruined by the (German) lagering process, basically.

That’s why I am delighted to read that a bar franchise in Britain has announced that it will beat the recession by reducing the price of its beer to “99 Pence” a pint. Apparently, a pence is like a cent, and this works out at  today’s exchange rate at $1.43 or thereabouts. Not bad, when one considers the last time I was in London, a pint cost me close to seven bucks.

But the thing that makes this a real winner for English drinkers is the fact that “a pint” over there is 20 ozs, compared with 16 ozs here. Check out the usual source.

The pint is an English unit of volume or capacity in the imperial system and United States Customary Units. The imperial version is 20 imperial fluid ounces and is equivalent to 568 mL, while the U.S. version is 16 U.S. fluid ounces and is equivalent to 473 mL.

(Not many people know that.  Welcome to the ranks of the cognoscenti….)

Like beer, but about ten times better

Also, you only have to be eighteen to drink over there. Which avoids our own ludicrous situation whereby you can be a marine sniper engaged in combat operations in Iraq,  and be arrested for having a beer to celebrate your safe return home…….