One Vulcan Julep Please.

So my friend Travis - the one who is helping me move - and I left Birmingham yesterday, but before we left we visited Vulcan Park atop Red Mountain. No, STAR TREK fans, this is not some park dedicated to Leonard Nemoy, and the phrase "Live Long and Prosper" is no where on site. Kind of sad, I know, but cool nonetheless.

Instead, the park is centered around a stature of the Greco-Roman god Vulcan. The statue was designed by Italian artist Giuseppe Moretti, and was cast from locally mined iron. To this day it is still the largest cast iron statue in the world, and it overlooks Birmingham, Alabama! Who knew? The park has spectacular views of Birmingham, and I'm sure I'll be going back after I move. You can actually take pictures from the observation deck around the statue, but I'm too cheap to pay the $6.

After we arrived in Mississippi, I took Travis out to dinner for helping me move. It truly is the least I could do. We settled on a nice local restaurant called Julep. I have heard people rave about it before, but I was a little afraid to try it because I had assumed it to be overpriced. (The prices were reasonable, FYI).

It seems Julep, however, attracts quite the cast of characters. Travis and I walked in and were greeted - or should I say we weren't greeted - by the hostess. In fact, she ignored us. You think if two guys, one white, one black, walk into a restaurant and stand in the foyer looking around someone should greet them and ask "how many?" or at least wait for a punchline. No, not this one, she was too pretty to do her job. After several minutes of waiting, I said: "two please," hoping she in fact was the hostess (there wasn't a clearly defined host station, so it was rather confusing.) I was greeted with: "oh you guys want to eat?" And had to fight the urge to say, "no, we came to stand. How much to stand by the door for an hour?"

That's when I decided that I feel uncomfortable with underweight restaurant hostesses. I want a hostess to be a big girl. Veronica, I have found a new job for you! Move to Jackson, and be the hostess at Julep! Big girls make sure people are fed, and generally aren't standing around waiting to be discovered.

After Too Pretty deigned it necessary to seat us, we were greeted by our energetic but socially awkward waiter. He spilled my tea while giving me a refill and apologized. I didn't mind, he cleaned it up as soon as it happened, and none got on me. It was a simple accident. The next time he came around to refill our drinks I exclaimed: "Perfect Score!" and threw my hands in the air. He then disappeared for the remainder of the meal (until it was time to bring us our checks, that is). I think I scared him.

I was too busy checking out the guys at the bar to worry about our waiter though. There was one - with one of those sexy skinny ties - and a cool mustache. I was digging him, but he was into a fake-and-bake blonde who had come to dine with his hetero (or at least hetero-curious) friends.

The other guy at the bar - his goal in life must be to become an anime character. He was Asian with swoopy emo hair with dyed maroon streaks. He knew how to tend bar, however. He was mixing drinks faster than any bartender I have seen, and he still managed to find the time to replace the well vodka.

That's about the time the interesting customers came in. I should have brought a note pad and handed out citations. These people clearly needed notes before going out in public. One came in with a handlebar mustache, but was clean shaven everywhere else. It looked like an overgrown caterpillar had grafted itself to his face. Another came in with a Pillsbury Dough-boy t-shirt that read: Poke Me! I wanted to pull him aside and say: "No Thank You."

Don't even get me started on some of the women that came in. It would take too long. Contrasting floral prints, ill-fitting tops, you name it - it happened. I kept looking for Clinton Kelly and Stacy London to leap out from behind the bar and surprise someone with a make-over. It was that much like a commercial for TLC's What Not to Wear.

I wish today had ended the cycle, but when we came to McDonald's this morning (or should I say SlowDonald's, it took forever to get our food) there was a man with a shirt that read: "Nobody Rides Free." I told Travis: "Too bad nobody would pay."