While I know zip about baseball, I can tell when something is up.

I noticed that more people that usual were wearing number five jersey’s and that everything around me (except for the hot dog I ate) had the number five stamped on it somewhere. There was also this photo montage and enormous sign that spelled out (using real baseballs) the number of hits Jeff Bagwell had made during his career.

Jeff’s two daughters threw the first pitch of the game, which was quite touching. I took a couple of extra photos during the game (including my scrumdeliescious hot dog) and posted them to the HouMetBlog Flickr page.

I had been to Coco’s once over a year ago when her place was on Richmond. Although I had always wanted to go back, I just never made it out to that side of town very often.

So imagine my surprise when I realized that the Coco’s on Westhiemer (near Montrose) was the same place. Evidently, Coco had to move out of her Richmond location (for whatever reason) and so decided to move closer to Downtown.

You may recognize this location as the old Montrose Diner site… which was the worst fucking diner ever with their horrible service and bland/poorly cooked food.

By sharp contrast, Coco’s is nothing like the Montrose Diner. I ordered a “J” roll as well as several individual pieces of sushi and some hot green tea. My order also came with a small dish of edamame, but I don’t know if that was because I was there during happy hour or that’s the way it is with any order.

The overall experience was dynamite!!! Yummy food and Coco is a trip to chat with. My fear is that the highly supportive clientele from Coco’s old location won’t follow her to the new location. Which means The HouMetblog community needs to get out to Coco’s damn it!

A happy eater is you!

Here’s the store front as viewed from across the street.

I think I may have discovered Domy from a listing in the Houston Press on their Monday Night Movie Nights. Anyway… a new bookstore in Houston is a light to which I fly. Thankfully, people still read (as evidenced by Brazos Books remaining steadfast and open) and I found the stuff at Domy to be “alternative” from other bookstores I’ve known.

Okay… not quite as “alternative” as say Black Hawk Leather since Domy seems to be more like an independent comic book store but mainly carrying hardcover / limited edition graphic novels and small press comics as well as rare and wonderful art/music videos kind of place. Fuck it, here’s a photo to help give you a better clue:

It’s a great place to let your mind get lost and enjoy the absurd and fantastic. The people who own Domy also own Cafe Brasil as well as that crazy looking clothing store next to Cafe Brasil.

Me: (after being curtly rejected by a large man in a Texans polo shirt) But why can’t I try out? I’m a cheerful guy, right?
Big Man: (dry, flat tone) Sorry sir, no men are allowed for try outs at this time.
Me: (adamant… and marco too) When do you think they’ll allow guys to try out for the cheerleading squad?
Big Man: (dry, flat tone) Sir, I’m sorry but men are not allowed for try outs at this time.
Me: (waiting to see if he says “this has been a recording”)…
Large older man with Texans paraphernalia: (to Big Man) Can I go check out the girls too?
Big Man: (dry, flat tone) Gentlemen, I’m sorry but men are not allowed into the tryout zone.

A couple of the cheerleaders were out front signing posters. I asked if they would sign mine “To Paul… you were great last night!” But for some reason, they didn’t.

Anyway, I’ll be traveling for the next 15 days to DC and then to LA for work as well as spending time during my off-hours promoting my new book. Oh yeah, I’ll tell Mom you guys said hello!

That’s my kick ass t-shirt and membership card in the photo!

The way the club works is that once you enjoy 200 different beers at the Flying Saucer, you get your name on a plate, which is somehow nailed to the ceiling where it stays for all perpetuity. Or until a developer comes along and tears everything down.

Now before I rush out and sign my name to the waiting list for a liver transplant, I decided to enroll in Saturday’s Sprint for Life 5K Run and Walk with MD Anderson.

That’s my kick ass t-shirt and race number in the photo! Oh wow… like I just realized that my t-shirt wardrobe has like doubled this weekend.

Anyway, I am not going to be in the race with Mr. Anderson, but rather with my girlfriend and about 10,000+ of her co-workers. Afterwards, we plan on enjoying a lemon and brew… care to join us?

I love Houston and I miss it terribly. I’m currently in Austin getting fricking drunk at the STAPLE show and then preparing to meet with legislators on Monday and Tuesday at the Capitol (as part of my day job). Yes, you should be worried. Regardless, I took this photo in Houston… somewhere.

In regards to SXSW: The heck with it! Too many damn patchouli hippie wannabees running around the street with their silly acoustic guitar crap. Get a job you smelly bums. I have no sympathy for the music industry.