I will begrudgingly acknowledge the deconstructionist anti-genius of Rebecca Black's viral hit song "Friday" — the defining philosophical treatise of our time — but I do take umbrage with one of the auteur's central tenets. Do we "gotta have a bowl," Rebecca? Do we "gotta have cereal"? I also have to get to the bus stop, but you seem to be ignoring the fact that the only thing that keeps me from strangling my fellow commuters is a country ham biscuit and a hot cup of coffee. Cereal ain't gonna cut it, kid. Luckily, between my bed and my cube, Sylvan Park Restaurant — the one in Sylvan Park, natch — is serving breakfast and has everything I need to keep my cranky, workaphobic ass in check. Hell, I'm in a better mood just thinking about that biscuit.
Sadly, America's Greatest Poet doesn't address the topic of lunch in the course of her otherwise thorough and engaging dissertation, but I suggest hopping in a tween-piloted convertible and heading over to Coco's Italian Market — 'cause it's Friday, and you gotta get down on Friday. I prefer to get down with a meatball sub — it's a two-fisted, cheesy, saucy force to be reckoned with — but if you're still feeling a bit of biscuit-guilt, I would totally recommend the salads. I would also recommend delivery, because really, letting tweenagers drive expensive cars is just a dumb idea, even if you are God's Gift to Lyricism.
One thing the great Dame of American Songwriting did get right is that everybody is looking forward to the weekend. My reason? It's the perfect time to cook large quantities of meat over a barely contained fire. "Partying, partying, partying! Fun, fun, fun!" is what the versifier spawn of Southern California veterinarians prescribes, and that's why I hit K&S World Market. They have such a wide selection of quality meat, seafood and produce that I can satisfy my weirdest culinary urges — think cow heart — and still provide guests more, um, recognizable options. Look, I like to party weird, and if that involves parts of animals that most folks are unfamiliar with, so be it.
As Black the Balladeer reminds us, tomorrow is Saturday, and Sunday comes afterwards, but before that you've gotta — and I can't stress this enough — get down, on Friday. And in Nashville it goes without saying that "getting down" is a euphemism for getting stupid, stupid drunk at one of our city's fine entertainment establishments and staying out far, far too late. Pizza Buds knows this, and you can generally count on their rolling fortress of pizza being wherever the party is — it's almost like they ask themselves, "Where are people saying, 'We we we so excited'?" and set their GPS from there. (You'll find them outside The 5 Spot, 12th & Porter and Mercy Lounge on the reg.) Dreams of late night run-ins with their cheesy, greasy slices of heaven are what get me through the work week. I am so looking forward to the weekend!=
