Hanging at The Joynt

Words and pics by The Noiseboy 

Between all these trips to the beach, who has time to blog? (Allow me to gloat about my newfound life beside water; there will be plenty of time for you to exact revenge in the winter months.)

Hungry Girl and I finally found a bar we both like, a splendid amalgamation of a dive bar and a townie bar that has so much character it could, if these people existed up here, become a happening spot for the hipsters to hang out. It’s called The Joynt. And once you get past the name, it’s really a great old bar in the heart of “campustown.” I hate to say it, because I may just be setting myself up to fail at filling a void I had long given up on filling, but it reminds me of Les’s Lounge.

The space has an old soul and is lined with photographs of the many notable blues and jazz artists that performed there (I’m guessing primarily in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s). We’re talking Dizzy Gillespie and Odetta. There’s a CD jukebox that offers an eclectic taste (from Sun Ra, Hank Williams, and Chuck Berry to Arcade Fire and Bon Iver, with a fair amount of shit thrown in — just like Les’s juke!). Hundreds of long-retired beer cans are on display. A lone pool table, dart board, and pinball machine are at the rear of the bar. No air conditioning.

They offer about 8 draughts and I didn’t notice anyone drinking from a bottle (nor did I see a fridge with bottles). All beer is served in smaller, shorter beer glasses (I believe you would call them Czech Pilsner glasses; similar, if not the same, as the ones Les’s used). So a pair of draughts went for about the price of one pint.

Barstool philosophers appeared to outnumber the brain-dead two-to-one and there were few, if any, college kids in attendance. At least on this late-afternoon, The Joynt was a place for locals to drink up. And the bartender was a bit of an asshole. My kinda place!

Hungry Girl was sold when she noticed the Dylan Thomas quote on the back of the coasters. (She’s a sucker for poetry, that girl.)

I’ll let the photos do the rest of the talking.

Not so faire

Ever wonder what a traveling band of reactionary jackasses look like? Wonder no more.

Words by Hungry Girl

Well, it’s official: Eau Claire is not perfect. We had our first indisputably negative experience in Eau Claire on Sunday. In fairness, it wasn’t actually in Eau Claire, but, nearby, in Chippewa Falls. Also, it was the result of the traveling band of reactionary jackasses known as the Renaissance Faire.

I know, I know, we went to the Renaissance Faire. What were we expecting? Well, let me tell you: turkey legs, fake jousting, bad theater, and a hearty dose of milady-ing. I knew we’d need alcohol (excuse me: mead and ale) to make it through, but I thought there would be some good, albeit ironic, fun to be had. Also, I won the tickets through a trivia contest hosted on Facebook by Volume One and was kind of proud of my awesome accomplishment. What could possibly go wrong?

Two words: the Magician.

Enter: the magician. Yes, that's really him.

The magician’s tent was our first stop, mainly because they were selling beer. (Sidenote: I am not digging the fact that Leinenkugel’s is everywhere here. I get that it’s local. But, come on: it sucks. Trust me, I’m from Pittsburgh and I know sucky local beer).

As soon as The Noiseboy got a beer, the magician started heckling him. You might think this would be funny. (I did.) But it got real bad, real quick. It had something to do with Doug’s shorts, which were, admittedly, plaid and J.Crew. [ed note: The hell they were. I would never shop at such a gay store. They were from Old Navy!) But within about 20 seconds he was calling The Noiseboy a homosexual and the crowd began laughing, some uncomfortably. I got to be part of the act too. “Oh, I get it,” he said, “The little lady dresses you. She wants to make sure you don’t get laid by anyone else.” “You don’t have to worry,” he said, “he only likes men.”

The Noiseboy only likes men ... like this guy!

Ah, bawdy humor! As the show continued, there were tons of ethnic slurs to go along with the sexism and homophobia. During our short visit, I also got called “the ball and chain” not once, but twice! You really get your money’s worth at the Renaissance Faire!

Seriously, though, what happened to the Renaissance Faire? When did it become a bastion of conservative resentment?

These are not the times of yore I was promised.

—

Words by The Noiseboy

The magician was not funny or magical.

Catfish, faires, beaches, ball games, markets, and the search for good ice cream+pizza

The bassist from Eau Claire's Daredevil Christopher Wright sporting the tee of his favorite C-U band. They performed at a free outdoor concert across the street from our place. At least 500 people attended!

Words by The Noiseboy

What we’ve been up to, so far.

1. Tubing, three times, down the Chippewa River. The popular entry point is in the park across the street from our place, which makes tubing a tempting diversion as there are always a horde of people trouncing barefoot toward the river carrying tubes. Most kids walk to this spot from their house in their bathing suits, carrying their tubes over their shoulders for a mile or more, then walk home afterward. The entire ride takes an hour and change — if the wind is blowing in your favor. As we learned on our second attempt, you cannot tube down this river in a 20+ mph headwind.

2. Unpacking. Lots of unpacking. We have so little storage that we’ve had to convert the front of our underground parking stall into a makeshift “closet” for random stuff we don’t need access to all that often.

The "great room," sans furniture.

3. The hunt is on for a good slice of pizza. So far, no luck. We’ve tried the locals’ favorite hand-tossed and thin crust and both are mediocre, at best. College-town pizza, but nothing special. Ditto on the ice cream front, although we have yet to try the preferred-by-locals Timm’s Dairy, which doesn’t have a storefront and sells its ice cream at events and through select restaurants, and the ice cream at Nelson Cheese Factory. Yes, the idea of buying ice cream from a cheese factory disturbs me, too. Gotta do something with all that milk, I guess.

4. The Eau Claire Express, the summer collegiate team, will fill the Danville Dans void in my life. It’s an identical league in an identical stadium. But the games up here are better attended, they have more stuff for kids to do (inflatables and the like) and, possibly, better ballpark food. Fewer Gipes, though. The stadium is a five-minute bike ride from our apartment.

5. One fish, two fish … You can get a really good hunk of catfish any night of the week.

All that catfish for $10.99!

6. There’s a smallish beach at Altoona Lake that we’ve taken a liking to. It’s a 20-minute bike ride from our place — all on a wooded, scenic path that follows the Eau Claire River — and is sparsely populated. People in the Northwoods have no reservations about showing off their bodies. Overweight, tattooed, 45 year-old women in bikinis are the norm. Everyone worships the God of Sun in the fleeting season of warm temps. I dig that.

7. There are several farmer’s markets, at different locations, throughout the week. The big one on Saturday mornings is in the park across the street. Our first trip there resulted in some tasty asparagus, green onion, and a complimentary (to the newcomers) pound  of organic, grass-fed hamburger that was, no shit, the best hamburger we’ve ever grilled.

8. Lest this post sound too pleasant for my grumpy self, let me rage for a minute about the Renaissance Faire we went to today. Hungry Girl won free tickets from the alt-weekly, which is the main reason we went. We lasted about an hour before our patience was fully tapped. When Hungry Girl, of all people, says she is going to punch someone, it is time to leave. Too much cleavage. Too much singing. Too much cheap beer. Too much creepiness (the ratio of creepy carnies to rides you want to ride should always be no higher than 5:1). Way too much lowest-common-denominator humor (I was called a “homosexual” by a magician because I was wearing plaid shorts!). And the joust totally sucked. Neither knight was even knocked off his horse. Come on, people! Hungry Girl has been watching Game of Thrones; your weak impersonation of knights will not do!

Checking out the joust with a fair maiden.

9. Scouting out real estate in the downtown area. We’d like to buy an old building and convert it into our future residence. Problem is, most of the real estate has already been purchased by one dude (not the owners of our complex). We learned this from our trip to …

10. Clancy’s, the Irish bar in downtown that features painted, tropical murals complete with lots of island birds. If you can imagine the muralist from The Canopy sprucing up Mike & Molly’s, you would end up with Clancy’s. Jess, the former hip-hop DJ turned wedding DJ cum bartender gave us a lot of useful info on the downtown scene. And he bought us beers. Nice guy.

A Few Things About Eau Claire

This storefront may appear harmless, but we have reason to believe it is a mob front.

Words by Hungry Girl

1. No one has any idea how to spell Eau Claire. You will have to spell it multiple times on the phone to your cable company and electric company and cell phone provider and J. Crew. They will still get it wrong on your bill.

2. If there is a free event, be it Bingo or Trivia or Taste of Eau Claire or Blues Tuesday or a Recall Election, hundreds, maybe thousands, of people will come out. They will bring their dogs, children, and folding lawn chairs.

3. Everyone loves coupons. Every store prints coupons. Everything is on sale. And, no, I do not have the coupon. Fuck your coupons. I want the sale price anyway.

4. Everyone at every intersection will stop for every pedestrian every time. Thank you.

5. There are pizza farms. PIZZA FARMS.

You thought we were kidding, didn't you?

6. I can bike to the beach. And it’s beautiful.

7. I take bridges everywhere. And some of them are wooden.

8. Everyone loves outdoor music. They also permit alcohol in all parks at all times. There are no open container laws. These are not unrelated, methinks.

9. The best bar in town is the Chippewa river. No beer gardens. Only inner tube style.

10. You can’t get excited about cheese curds. They’re everywhere — street festivals, pizza joints, ball games, gas stations — and typically deep-fried. You have to stop noticing them and going “Ooooh, cheese curds!” or things will go horribly wrong.

Still, freakin' CHEESE CURDS!