Russian Spies and Extreme Pizza!

The weather around here has been downright pleasant. Basking in the Cali sun has never been better, especially since people are freezing to death in the Midwest! Friends were in town and we all met up at Jupiter. While it isn't my favorite spot, it does have nice outdoor seating. Though I found out you can't smoke in that outdoor area, you still have to smoke on the sidewalk. No I don't smoke (regularly), but a fella that may or may not have been a paying customer was trying to smoke near us. Though his big concern was not that he couldn't smoke, it was the fact that the waiter telling him he couldn't, looked like a Cuban (in fact he was not Cuban, but half black, which he informed the man at least twice). The waiter tried talking with the man for a second, until he realized it was fruitless and got back to work. After he walked away the man started talking to me. I was braced for a long awkward conversation with a crazy guy, but all I ended up with was this gem:

"That man thinks I am a Russian Spy."

At that point he walked off, leaving me slack jawed and stupefied. I tell you, Berkeley is great. After this we grabbed our drinks and I proceeded to do what I do best. It ended up like it always does that I had to use the little sailors room. And while it was business as usual, there was a few oddities in this one!

Gotta love the shorty urinal.

Whose T-Shirt??

The shirt reads: "Split Lip Bayfield" Is it a band? A revolutionary? Or perhaps it is just the name of the car below it. Part of me wanted a new shirt, but the better half of me remembered the tried and true philosophy of: "Clothes found in a bathroom, should stay in that bathroom." Finishing up drinks we decided food was in order, but not the expensive pizza they served, no we opted for the expensive pizza someone down the street served.

For an occasion such as this, Extreme Pizza was in order. I am not sure what makes it "extreme." I believe originally it was to cater to the extreme snowboarders, windsurfers, skaters, and other "extreme sports." I have been a couple of times, but never on a Sunday at 10 p.m. Apparently this is when the extreme party happens. I had a hunch when we walked in and one man was "conducting" the hip hop bumping on the stereo. It seemed that there was no rule against employees helping themselves to the tap. Or maybe there was and they chose to ignore it (I probably would to, I mean it is Sunday night right?). I applaud them and their on the job drinking. It felt like a bar, unfortunately no picture of the loo!