Thursday, December 22, 2005
The Bowery.
You know a bar is good, if a bit annoying, when the bartender won't make you a mint julep because they don't have a tin cup.
Such is the case at The Bowery.
That's right. No tin cup, no mint julep.
I would rather have no mint julep than a bad one, so I guess that it's okay even though I really really really wanted a mint julep, which, as I had pointed out to me by the friend I was drinking with, is a limeless mojito made with bourbon. How clever! Wait, and without club soda too. I am going to use that the next time I want one. Except then I will be annoying and ask for a tin cup.
Cocktail nerds.
In any case, the waiter was very nice and well-informed (and easy on the eyes), and the dirty martinis and Manhattans we had instead were quite good.
And apparently, I can still get drunk - the trick is to not eat dinner beforehand.
Such is the case at The Bowery.
That's right. No tin cup, no mint julep.
I would rather have no mint julep than a bad one, so I guess that it's okay even though I really really really wanted a mint julep, which, as I had pointed out to me by the friend I was drinking with, is a limeless mojito made with bourbon. How clever! Wait, and without club soda too. I am going to use that the next time I want one. Except then I will be annoying and ask for a tin cup.
Cocktail nerds.
In any case, the waiter was very nice and well-informed (and easy on the eyes), and the dirty martinis and Manhattans we had instead were quite good.
And apparently, I can still get drunk - the trick is to not eat dinner beforehand.
Gloria 2:13 PM
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Sunday, December 18, 2005
The Bar.
So Jen already wrote about her interactions with the idiot I shall call The Old Sketchball. I have to admit, I didn't really hear that conversation she had with him, because 1) I do not choose to talk to strangers in bars unless there are extenuating circumstances and 2) I was busy trying to flag down the bartender for a drink because it had been a whole car drive since I had last had alcohol. But I did see him, and he was totally that older vaguely sketchy guy. Ergh. Bad news.
After she finally got rid of him, we did observe him leering at some girls who were dancing and well, just leering at any female in the bar in general. Icky! Skeezy old leery guy! Go away!
Then, most unfortunately, later in the night, the Old Sketchball interrupted a very fine conversation that ScarlettAce and I were having, as Jen was talking to his friend and so that meant that we had to talk to him? I failed to see the logic there, especially as ScarlettAce and I were having oodles of fun making fun of other people. Wasn't there some other group of girls he could go harrass?
No.
Dammit.
And he is a sterling example of why I don't talk to guys in bars: because the conversation SUCKS, and I am one who needs good conversation. And I am at my punchiest in bars when I am annoyed. Especially when the guy in question has been earlier spotted being an ogler and on top of it, was rude to a friend. Here is an example of the idiocy ScarlettAce and I had to go through. I am withholding the majority of my internal commentary because it will be more fun for you to groan and roll your eyes without my prompting. (Obviously, this is not verbatim, but it does give you a general idea.)
*When a guy says he works in The Industry but can't back up his claim with any concrete details, it's like a big fat red flag is waved. Such a poseur. Go away, asswipe.
And HOW HARD is it to answer the question, "Where are you from?" Even if you're an army brat, you have an easy answer: "I was an army brat". There is no reason to beat around the bush like that. And you don't get to claim you're from a city when you've lived there for only three years!
Incidentally, The Bar? Such a cute place - no attitude, and great music. I'll go back in a heartbeat, as long as the Old Sketchball isn't there. But this is LA. And if they're not old sketchballs, they'll be wannabe Industry people. Sigh.
(For some reason, I can't make that blank space at the top of this post go away. Okay, I guess you don't see it in IE, but I use Firefox, and it's there, grr. )
After she finally got rid of him, we did observe him leering at some girls who were dancing and well, just leering at any female in the bar in general. Icky! Skeezy old leery guy! Go away!
Then, most unfortunately, later in the night, the Old Sketchball interrupted a very fine conversation that ScarlettAce and I were having, as Jen was talking to his friend and so that meant that we had to talk to him? I failed to see the logic there, especially as ScarlettAce and I were having oodles of fun making fun of other people. Wasn't there some other group of girls he could go harrass?
No.
Dammit.
And he is a sterling example of why I don't talk to guys in bars: because the conversation SUCKS, and I am one who needs good conversation. And I am at my punchiest in bars when I am annoyed. Especially when the guy in question has been earlier spotted being an ogler and on top of it, was rude to a friend. Here is an example of the idiocy ScarlettAce and I had to go through. I am withholding the majority of my internal commentary because it will be more fun for you to groan and roll your eyes without my prompting. (Obviously, this is not verbatim, but it does give you a general idea.)
Me: So, where are you from?So the conversation continues in this vein, with The Old Sketchball being all vague and evasive and boooooring and about as stimulating as a burnt out light bulb. I think I am being too nice to him in my portrayal of him. The conversation was Much Worse.
The Old Sketchball: Oh, that's such a hard question to answer.
Me: ??????
ScarlettAce: So then, what do you do?
TOS: Oh, I don't really want to talk about it.
Me: What. Do. You. Do?
TOS: I work in The Industry.*
ScarlettAce: What do you do in The Industry?
TOS: Oh, well, I'm a producer.
ScarlettAce: What have you worked on recently?
TOS: Well, just too many projects to name.
Me: So, where did you say you were from?
TOS: Well, I guess Prague.
Me: Hm. How long did you live there?
TOS: Oh, about three years.
Me: Huh. Three years. Where did you live before that?
TOS: Paris.
Me: Oh! How long did you live there?
TOS: Two months, and I hated it.
Me: Where in Paris did you live?
TOS: Do you know Paris?
Me: Yes, I lived there for six months.
TOS: Well, I lived off of Rue Mouffetard, which is in the Latin Quarter, you know.
Me: I. Said. I. Know. Paris. So, before Paris was...?
TOS: Denver.
ScarlettAce: So, what brings you to this bar?
TOS: That is such a good question! My friend over there.
ScarlettAce: How did you meet him?
TOS: We're working on one of the same projects.
ScarlettAce: What project?
TOS: I can't really talk about it.
Me: So where are you from originally?
TOS: Cleveland, Ohio.
*When a guy says he works in The Industry but can't back up his claim with any concrete details, it's like a big fat red flag is waved. Such a poseur. Go away, asswipe.
And HOW HARD is it to answer the question, "Where are you from?" Even if you're an army brat, you have an easy answer: "I was an army brat". There is no reason to beat around the bush like that. And you don't get to claim you're from a city when you've lived there for only three years!
Incidentally, The Bar? Such a cute place - no attitude, and great music. I'll go back in a heartbeat, as long as the Old Sketchball isn't there. But this is LA. And if they're not old sketchballs, they'll be wannabe Industry people. Sigh.
(For some reason, I can't make that blank space at the top of this post go away. Okay, I guess you don't see it in IE, but I use Firefox, and it's there, grr. )
Gloria 12:02 PM
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