There is a place in Houston called Saint Dane’s Bar & Grill. I’ve never been there, but Jared and I happened across it while we were looking at houses. I’ll admit, it looked like a pretty decent bar, and it was in an eclectic part of town that made me think a little bit of Austin. I glanced at the bar, pointed it out to Jared, and was about to move on with my day. As I commented on how it was a cute little corner bar, I glanced back at it to confirm that I agreed with myself. That’s when I noticed the sign.
“IT'S BETTER THAN A KICK IN THE NUTS”
You might be asking yourself, much as we did, “The fuck???”
Jared and I both agreed that they were setting the bar really, really low. I pointed out that that was actually pretty smart marketing because if anyone ever complained, the staff could say, “Hey, we didn’t say this place was amazing; we just said it was better than a kick in the nuts. It’s not our fault you disregarded the sign and waltzed in here with your high expectations” or (with an infuriatingly idiotic grin on their face) “The drinks are disgusting and the bar is filthy, you say? Well, it could certainly worse…in fact, it’s better than a kick in the nuts!!” at which point, the complaining party would then set the staff member on fire and exclaim, “It’s better than a kick in the nuts, motherfucker!!”
We laughed at that scenario for a minute, but then I got quiet as a much more disturbing thought crept into my head.
Me: “What if getting kicked in the nuts is supposed to be a good thing?”
Me: “What if they’re into S&M, Fifty Shades of Grey, and red rooms of pain? What if they like being kicked in the nuts? I bet they think that that’s actually a selling point, ‘Come have a blast at Saint Dane’s Bar & Grill…it’s even BETTER than a kick in the NUTS!!’”
Jared, glancing over at me, probably making sure I wasn’t about to stroke out: “Yeah, that’s possible too…”
Me: “And if that’s the case, I know where I’m not going! To the bar that’s run by people who enjoy being kicked in the nuts…the fuck is that about?? I don’t want to be kicked in the nuts. And I don’t even have nuts. Clearly they have questionable morals.”
Jared: “Yeah, that’s completely fucked up…”
I stand corrected. The amusement level of racking someone is completely relative. Kind of like hitting your funny bone. X, like, 1,000,000,000.
As I was writing all of this down, I thought of another situation regarding the sign. What if the sign wasn’t referring to the bar at all? Maybe they were trying to put things into perspective for all of us that happened by their sign. “You lost a leg in a fight with a hobo? Man, that sucks…but hey,, it’s better than a kick in the nuts.”
Actually now that I think about it, I don't think that works. Forget I suggested it.
Here is a list of reasons as to why I'm probably going to steer clear of Saint Dane’s:
- They use “a kick in the nuts” as a unit in which to measure how awesome or not awesome their bar is. It’s all very confusing and disturbing.
- They don’t know their maths. I’m not going to trust a “bar & grill” that doesn’t know how much a quarter is worth.
- Their bar is named after a dog breed that doesn’t exist. From their website: “First off, the name comes from a new breed. A Saint Bernard crossed with a Great Dane = Saint Dane's”. And they give absolutely no reason for this; it sounds like a drunken slip of the tongue. Also, I don't like their attitude.
|Either they're really bad at math or they're really bad at the English language. Either way, it's not helping their image. Although the Mango Habanero sounds delicious. Don't judge me.|
Side note: Thanks to Sarah for piquing my interest enough that I broke down and read the plot summary of Fifty Shades of Grey. After reading it, I decided two things: 1) I'm never fucking reading that book. It sounds like Twilight for adults, and I've heard some of the bizarre and, to be honest, fucking disgusting things that they've said in reference to how to the book makes them feel; and- actually side note to the guys: Stop reading. Seriously. Stop. I know you're still there....Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you- 2) I've decided that during my period, I'm going to refer to my uterus as the "Red Room of Pain".
By the way, here's the plot summary for those of you who didn't immediately jump on over to good ol' Wikipedia:
The plot traces the relationship between recent college graduate Anastasia Steele and manipulative billionaire Christian Grey. Steele is required by Grey to sign a contract allowing him complete control over her life. As she gets to know him she learns that his sexual tastes involve bondage, domination and sadism, and that childhood abuse left him a deeply damaged individual. In order to be his partner she agrees to experiment with BDSM, but struggles to reconcile who she is (a virgin who has never previously had a boyfriend) with who Christian wants her to be: his submissive to do with as he pleases in his “Red Room of Pain.”
....yeah....And this is a bestseller, y'all. I've lost almost all faith in humanity. I might post sometime this weekend as to why I haven't lost complete faith. Yet.
|THE RED ROOM OF PAIN!!! Also? Don't do an image search for 'Uterus". Just...don't. Trust me.|