By Heather Hoch
By Eric Schaefer
By New Times
By Rachel Miller
By Eric Schaefer
By Heather Hoch and Lauren Saria
By Robrt L. Pela
By Heather Hoch
Bite Me about leapt out of her Lucky Jeans when she was rudely awakened by some loud-ass morning DJ's cock-a-doodle declaration that the dawn had indeed arrived. Let's catch y'all up. See, your ever-perky host had spent the previous afternoon at the Fox Sports Grill soaking up the Super Bowl and a few too many gin and tonics. In an effort to avoid the cops that she's heard are pretty free-fisted with their batons, Bite Me decided to sleep off her stumble in the parking lot of the upscale sports grill in Scottsdale, and she slept straight through 'til dawn.
Still groggy, Bite Me became aware that the cell phone perched near her thigh had begun bleeping out its freaky chicken cant. She answered and was treated to a screaming fit from her editor wondering where in Sam Hill her column was.
What an ass. Bite Me held the phone about a foot from her ear, and so she only caught bits and pieces . . . something about last week's My Florist Cafe column being 10 minutes late, blah blah blah. But you don't care what a Nazi Bite Me works for, so she'll just save you all the drama and reassure everyone that she remains firmly employed . . . for now.
So grab a brewski and take a little trip to a sporto bar in the throes of Super Bowl hysteria, at least as well as Bite Me can remember it.
Nutshell? Fox Sports Grill's food smelled great and looked delish as it passed by her on trays carried by pretty and polished staffers. Tons of TVs blared the game, which even Bite Me, a non-sports fan pickled by gin, could tell was a total letdown. Who knew those mean-ass Raiders could be such a bunch of pussies?
Most of the folks at Fox really didn't seem to mind, but that's because they were mostly hot chicks who looked like they had their plastic surgeons on speed dial, and the smooth fellas downing lots of liquid courage before going on strafing runs.
God Bless Football and the American Way.
Bite Me: What brings you to Fox Sports Grill today, chickie?
Janel: I'm here on vacation with friends from Portland, Oregon. We took a semester off from Portland City College.
Bite Me: A scholar! I'm a brainiac myself. What do you want to be when you grow up? (And Bite Me meant this only figuratively. Frankly, if this chick grows a millimeter, she's gonna be a beanstalk.)
Janel: Well, I'm 21, so I haven't decided yet, but I'm leaning towards business.
Bite Me: Risky business, you mean. I know your kind. Hey, you a sports fan?
Janel: No. I'd rather play sports than watch them. I like basketball, football, hockey. (Suddenly Janel's beer-guzzlin' barnacle of a boy-toy, Xavier, decides to interrogate Bite Me.)
Xavier: And what do you play?
Bite Me: I got mad skills in dominoes and tonsil hockey. So did you two just meet tonight? I noticed you were offering her a job when I walked up. You visiting here as well?
Xavier: I'm from Denver.
Bite Me: Hey, we've got a monster paper in Denver . . . Westword. It's the bomb.
Xavier: Yeah, it is the bomb. It's huge. (Xavier suddenly motions to Bite Me that he'd prefer that her tape recorder stop suckin' down his words. Bite Me obeys only to suffer through Xavier rambling on drunkenly about why his reptilian restaurant doesn't advertise in the best paper in its town. Bite Me yawns.)
Bite Me: You best be sayin' it's the bomb.
Xavier: It is. We just don't advertise in Westword.
Bite Me: They must be devastated. So, who are you rooting for in there?
Xavier: Tampa Bay because the Raiders suck. I'm from Denver and we hate the Raiders.
Bite Me: Why's that? 'Cause they're gangsters?
Xavier: You want a really good quote? Romanowski's a pill taker. We didn't even want him on our team, hated him because he spit on somebody. (Something tells Bite Me that Xavier ain't the best spokesperson for Denver. Nor should his defamatory remarks about a pro football fella be taken with less than 40 grains of salt.)
Bite Me: Did he spit on you?
Xavier: He spit on another team member. You didn't hear about that?
Bite Me: Must have been napping during that special report. I'm not a fan of contact spitters, though.
Xavier: He was always the only Bronco I never liked.
Bite Me: I hope he took it well. So, you're getting Janel a job?
Xavier: She moves to Denver, Janel's got a job.
Bite Me: Hot diggity dog. I bet she'd be a stellar behind-the-bar babe.
Xavier: She understands service. She said we can't get a drink around here.
Bite Me: Jesus! Remind me never to come to this dump again. So, Janel, what's your drink of choice?
Janel: I really like Jagermeister shots, but that's probably my age talking. I also love Grey Goose martinis. Not the girlie martinis. I like beer. I don't mind buying my own, but the guys are very generous here. I'm getting drunks as fast as I want them in Phoenix.
Bite Me: I couldn't have said that better myself. You're getting drinks and getting drunks simultaneously. Maybe it's because you're so tall.
Xavier: She's not that tall.
Owner, Auto Reflections
Apple computer trainer
Bite Me: So, Danny boy, what's the best Irish bar in town?
Dan: Rosie McCaffrey's.
Bite Me: Wild! I just moved in across the street, mere steps from a thick mug of Guinness.
Dan: Yeah. We live down there, too.
Bite Me: You're my neighbors?
Dan: I'm a lord of the slumlords in Sunnyslope. I live in a nice part of Sunnyslope, which is kind of an oxymoron.
Bite Me: You're a slumlord?
Dan: No, no, I'm not a slumlord. Wouldn't that be good, though?
Bite Me: Okay, then what do you do?
Dan: I own Auto Reflections; it's a car wash, detail and window tinting company.
Bite Me: Great name. What got you into that?
Dan: A love of cars. Everybody needs to have their car washed.
Susan: He does all the wholesale work for the car dealerships on Camelback. That's where we met.
Bite Me: Aha! So you like cars and chicks?
Dan: No. Wait -- I do like girls. Put it that way.
Bite Me: Not that there's anything wrong with the alternative. Hey, is your car here? Can I come check out if it's clean?
Susan: We're actually in my very detailed Jetta.
Bite Me: I'm just kidding. I ain't gonna inspect your car, but do you ever have to clean cars that are super nasty? Do you ever say "no way"?
Dan: Never. It's a matter of money.
Bite Me: Susan, are you a model? How old are you? You're so beautiful.
Susan: I love you. Thanks. I'm 34.
Bite Me: You must have good genes. Where do you hail from, doll?
Susan: Czechoslovakia. My dad is Czech.
Bite Me: Wow. You're nonstop perfect. Does it ever stop? I bet you even got a table in this packed place.
Dan: I scored and got a table, one of the last two that wasn't reserved.
Bite Me: You mean she got one of the two tables that wasn't reserved. This place is wall-to-wall sportos led by their Barbie dolls. Sorry, just bein' honest.
Dan: Yeah, I'm with her, but the table's got my name on it.
Bite Me: Susan, is anyone ever mean to you ever?
Susan: Actually, they really are.
Bite Me: Girls, I bet.
Susan: Yeah, some of the meanest bee-yaatches you've ever met in your life.
Bite Me: Well, darlin', just remember, "fuck the bitches."
Susan: Yeah. I have to be in a male-dominated industry like computers because women are so mean.
Bite Me: They're horrible. Were you in a sorority?
Susan: Never been in a sorority. Never been a cheerleader. I was a band geek.
Bite Me: You're a catch. Are you gonna marry her, Danny-boy?
Dan: If she'll let me.
Susan: Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, hint, hint.
Dan: Her parents like me. Her brother likes me.
Bite Me: Her brother likes you? Who cares?
Susan: My brother is an ass. He's older. I'm the youngest and a serious accident. My mother told me that I was the result of a night of martinis. I asked her if that was why I like martinis so much.
Bite Me: Who are you? You abhorrently freakish lass. I love you. Beautiful and quick to recognize bee-yatches. You're my girl.
Bite Me: So, pre-doc, are you really smart?
Bite Me: What made you decide on medicine? The hot chicks?
Bo: I grew up in a factory town. The factory was medicine.
Bite Me: Why are you leaving before the game ends?
Bo: I have to drive back to school in Loma Linda, California. We just came to watch the game and root for the Raiders.
Bite Me: How are they doing?
Bo: It's like three to 20. It's grim.
Bite Me: Wow. So, long-distance Lolita, you're gonna be a dentist? Can you give me some tooth tips? Should I floss three times a day?
Jennifer: You should floss at least once a day, but going to the dentist is the most important thing.
Bite Me: I hate going to the dentist. Most people do. Does that bum you out?
Jennifer: No. People will like me because I'm gonna be an orthodontist who'll make their teeth straight.
Bite Me: Do people always want to talk about their teeth with you? Do you hate that?
Jennifer: No. I like to talk about teeth.
Bite Me: Do you believe in putting people to sleep to work on them?
Jennifer: It depends on their level of comfort.
Bite Me: Do you hate it when they're freaked out? Doesn't everyone hate the dentist?
Jennifer: Yes. But most people are okay if they understand what's going on. (Bite Me's take on dentistry is that it's all good as long as she's doped up during the procedure and leaves with a scrip for Vicodin and at least one refill. In this day and age, you're a damn fool to leave an office without plans to zone out for the night on legal pharmaceuticals.)
Bite Me: So how did you two meet?
Jennifer: We went to school here together, but we met on the Internet at match.com.
Bite Me: Aren't you wildly honest!? You're blowing my mind. Internet matchmaking is for those who look like Divine. You two are so pretty.
Jennifer: Well, thank you, but see, if you're too busy with school it's really hard to meet people.
Bite Me: I'll take your word for it.