Showing posts with label bartenders. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bartenders. Show all posts

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Outlook Inn



916 Baxter Ave
Louisville, KY 40204
(502) 583-4661

What happened here? In my day, the Outlook Inn was a fun, divey little bar at the tail end of the Bardstown Rd/Baxter Ave drinkapalooza. It was the de facto meet up my for my friends & I during the holiday post-eating rituals we had with our families. It was a little dirty, low key and fun. Not anymore.

Imagine my surprise to find the Outlook filled - from doorguy (a bouncer at the Outlook??) to patron - with huge meatheads. Que? No no no. This isn't Molly Malone's. This is the Outlook. The only _____heads that should be here are "pot" or "crack."

With the change in clientele came a change in the music. I get it. I'm not 21 anymore. I shouldn't expect to hear The Pixies or the Beasties on the jukebox while some of my friends play pool and the others catch up on gossip and avoid people from high school. I know. But, I shouldn't be blasted out of my seat by whatever high decibel Garth Brooks/Gwar hellmeld that was playing. No, Outlook. Bad, Outlook.

Frightened by 'roidheads, deafened by the musical stylings of whatever that was, I attempted to get a drink. Nope. Person to my left. Served. Person to my right. Served. Person down the block at Cahoots. Served. Greatly annoyed and standing by myself, the bartender finally acknowledges me. "Oh. I didn't see you." Cannotstrangleherandgetarrested. Cannotstrangleherandgetarrested. Mmm, what? Oh. Sorry. That's my version of deep, cleansing breaths.

Scared? Strike one. Deafened? Strike two. Thirsty? Strike three. You're out and I'm out of here. I found out that the hipsters have fled the Outlook for Butcher/Smoke/Germantown. I can't say that I blame them. Oh, Outlook, what happened to you while I was gone? They paved paradise and put up a parking lot - and stuck a syringe full of steroids in its ass.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

RINO



343 W. Erie
Chicago, IL 60610
(312) 587-3433


A-hem.

They tried to make me go to RiNo. I said, "No, no no."
It's got lots of 'working' girls - all up in v.i.p. They ho, ho ho's.
Now, I ain't got the time to kiss some jackhole bouncer's behind.
They tried to make me go to RiNo. I won't go, go, go.

I'd rather be eating tacos
Or, maybe, getting 'comped Prosecco
Cuz RiNo 'tude - RiNo 'tude can't go no higher
The crowd's not fun; just broke and tired

Bartenders need to get some class
'til then that dump can kiss my black ass

They tried to make me go to RiNo. I said, "No, no no."
It's got lots of 'working' girls - all up in v.i.p. They ho, ho ho's.
Now, I ain't got the time to kiss some jackhole bouncer's behind.
They tried to make me go to RiNo. I won't go, go, go.

*does the crackhead shimmy*