Max H.
Yelp
Last night was the first night I have ever been here. What an extraordinarily well-lit bar. Seriously, you can see every single pore on every single face, which, in terms of probability and attractiveness, might not be the best thing. It is refreshing to once again know what people look like, however, if you're saddled with something called "standards." If you're curious, most of the people here were dudes on the wrong side of portly.
Another compounding factor that added to the sense of clarity last night: I did not drink. I ain't drinking for January, see? So I ordered a coffee, and it was FREE. Is this normal? Because it's awesome. From now on, I'm drinking all of my coffee in bars, and once February rolls around, I'm drinking all of my liquor in bed.
Near the front of the bar, there was an obnoxious mid-90s microphone-less karaoke crowd yelling along to dumb songs. That popular song by Live came on (the only one, I think) - "Lightning crashes, an old baby dies..." or something like that, and I wondered, "Who the fuckity foo picked that damn song to play right damn now?" Is that song just about abortions? I don't know why I think that's what it's about, still. Anyway, a choice track by Bush (?) followed it on the jukebox and I was reminded of the bittersweet mid-90s, when I reigned as an insecure high school lord, suckling at the sweaty teat of MTV for cultural sustenance.
There's also a smoking patio out front, which always happily toasts my nipples.
Nipples and teats! Nipples and teats! I don't even know how to review a bar if I didn't drink there. It's like I don't even know how to be anymore. I was smiling and laughing most of the night, though, so I'll give it 3.75 stars, to be rounded up to 4 by the cruel math gods behind this website.