Thursday Night's All Right For Fighting

So last night was hilarious. But first, a couple blotters:

Medical device stolen
JOLIET — Staff at a West Side urologist's office discovered Wednesday that a hand-held bladder screening device was stolen.
A representative of Advanced Urology Associates at 812 Campus Drive reported to police Wednesday that the $890 machine had been stolen, likely around July 19.
The machine is quite small and both patients and staff had opportunity to take it, police said.

They may have had the opportunity, but did they have the desire? I assume the thief planned to try to sell it to Remco or something rather than use it at home.

Woman threatening tattoo parlor
JOLIET — A woman angry at a delay in getting her nose pierced has been harassing and threatening the employees of a tattoo parlor, police said.
The woman has repeatedly called Wolf's Fine Line Tattoo since a July 30 visit to the 1117 Plainfield Road body art parlor, police said.
The woman stopped in on that day to get her nose pierced but was told the procedure could not be performed until 9:15 p.m., police said. She reportedly "became agitated" and left the establishment.
She since has been calling the tattoo parlor and making threats, police said.
The woman may have been wearing a Wendy's uniform when she stopped by at the end of July to get her nose pierced, police said.

I'm really glad to get that crucial info about the Wendy's uniform. Now all I can picture is Dave Thomas's redheaded cartoon daughter with a nose ring.

So, last night we went to Jameson's, my favorite Thursday night hotspot. There was drinking, dancing, chats about the current condition of Taylor Street (I fear for Linda's Pizza), and the usual mockery. There was also fighting, but I'll get to that in a second. It was a night of a thousand stars: Legal Larry made a brief appearance, I ran into Fivetone Jerry (who later on was shaking his groove thang on the dance floor), and at the end of the evening, there was even a cameo appearance by Al, the former "Bouncer on a Box" from Samy's. As usual, there was a strange encounter with a random stranger, this time an older softball playing gent who felt the need to adjust my skirt, which kept twisting around, not once but twice. I would have protested but I was so shocked and amused by what was occurring that I couldn't get up the strength. The music was decent, and improved when the DJ finally got over his need to play everything Gwen Stefani had ever recorded. I love Gwen, but not that much at once. But all adventures pale in comparison to The Fight.

We were hanging around when all of a sudden, bar patrons, mostly males, started beating a hasty retreat outside. Having a flashback to Troy Junior high fight mentality, in which you could find a fight by following throngs down hallways, I followed, of course, but didn't see anything and walked back in. Then suddenly there was the biggest fight I've ever seen outside. It seemed like a million dudes were involved. Local statistician Wendy estimated about 30. I was reminded of the big ass fight from Anchorman, only without the bizarre weapons. It would have been awesome if Ben Stiller had popped in and yelled, "Como estas, bitches!" The highlight for me was when a girl tried to get involved and wiped out on her platforms. The way that guys get involved in fights just cracks me up, it's as if they smell the testosterone and feel the need to join in immediately. Diane and I had a good time doing commentary on the fight from the beer garden, which unfortunately took on the aroma of armpits after a while. I think the only thing that would have made the scene more surreal would have been a soundtrack of the music from Platoon or something. Actually, at one point the song playing inside was the "Push me, and then just touch me, so I can get my satisfaction" song, so that was probably pretty appropriate. Eventually la policia arrived and the bar got shut down. We hung out out front for a while and chatted with other rubberneckers before heading over to Larsen's for a slightly less bellicose experience. I love the laidback vibe of Larsen's, and mostly I like the fact that I can sit in that window seat area and sing along to Journey without mockery. It's always nice to end an evening with an impromptu performance of "When the lights go down in the cit-ay." Note: Britney and K-Feds danced to that for their first song at their wedding. Thanks for stealing my song, skanks. Note: there were no chicks doing their hair in the bathroom last night, and for this I am pleased. Unfortunately The Fight was not in the blotter today, but I have high hopes for tomorrow. One final fun thing: check out this story. I've never liked Creed, so I thought it was hilarious.