I was at Fuci-Fino’s, chatting with the good-old-boy bartender. It was Wednesday, the night the place does its Scaryoke — hardcore karaoke for goths. It brings out a playful crowd of spiked, tattooed, and pierced vamps, rockers, and punks. Suddenly the music started and a booze-addled karaoke performer stepped onto…
Sidelines Sports bar buzzes with healthy conversation as basketball flickers on the many flat-screen television screens. Men, many still in their workday business attire, sip frothy brews and shoot pool. Suddenly, the distinct first couple of notes of a song trickle from the speakers, and the conversation quiets. All eyes…
You’ve got a penny, so chuck it down the well and make a wish. What do you wish for? A million bucks? A pet pony? A pet porn star? One despondent drinker at the Wishing Well, a spacious Irish bar in Boca Raton, wished for a job. A dart-playing, midlife-crisis-aged…
St. Patrick’s Day is the greenest, most wonderful day of the year, a day we celebrate free-flowing liquor, drunken shenanigans, lightly disguised alcoholism, and the snogging of random strangers just because they claim Gaelic ancestry. OK, so St. Paddy’s special day isn’t until later this month, but I just couldn’t…
I sat there in silence at the bar inside Nippers in Boca, trying not to concentrate on what was about to be a disastrous — but supersexy — wardrobe malfunction. In front of me, bartender Sabrina ferociously shook up a drink, her breasts bouncing jauntily as they fruitlessly tried to…
I’m at this kava bar in Boca called Nakava, and I’m just about to down a bowl of the stuff. That’s when the bartender remembers to give me a warning. “Oh, yeah,” bartender Jeffery says. “When you taste this, you’re going to make a face — we call it kava…
With a name like Blue Martini, you’d expect it to be the kind of place where you could stare down into a potent concoction and mourn the bad economy, a bad breakup, or just the fact that your father doesn’t love you (and he still doesn’t, sucker). But Blue Martini…
You never know where you’re going to meet your future spouse. Or pose for a drunken artist who quickly immortalizes you in crayon. Or if neither of those things happens, you could always just drink until you’re shitfaced. And that’s how it goes with the cast of random-ass characters at…
I wasn’t sure why I was even going to the Coyote Ugly SaloonCoyote Ugly Saloon I’m not a fan of watching scantily clad women frolic around for the entertainment and pleasure of seedy guys. And guess what? One of the first things I noticed upon walking in was a gray-haired…
You’re going to die. But c’mon, have a martini. What better way to celebrate your own withering mortality than by having a lot of expensive drinks and going home with a stranger? That’s pretty much the motto at YOLO (You Only Live Once), a nightclub and restaurant located on Las…
Anyone who knows me knows that I’m more likely to go to a bar to whine than go to a wine bar. Most of my time is spent at dives bantering with blue-collar types, sipping on dirt-cheap brews. But sometimes even I like to chill somewhere classy and upscale, a…
I love Santa Claus. I wish it was because I’m fascinated by the way his modern-day story evokes folkloric traditions, possible real people, and pre-Christian mythology. Or because he’s got a toy shop, magic reindeer, a flying sled, and it’s cool to lie to little kids about his existence. But…
Sick as a dog on a Thursday evening? Try the Irish whiskey cure. Maybe it’s not just what the doctor ordered, but it sure doctors the pain when you don’t feel good. That’s what I’ve heard from the experts, anyway. I headed to Biddy Early’s Irish Bar (3419 N. Andrews…
Thursday night. A muggy, rainy South Florida night, and I was feeling particularly grouchy. It had been a long, punishing mini-Friday, the air around me was veering toward triple-digit humidity, and I had just gotten one of those wish-you-were-here calls from my family in Texas. Everybody fine, and, oh, yeah,…
If there’s one thing Americans can agree on in these divisive political times, it’s this: Work sucks. It’s a 9-to-5 daily grind, with its eagle-eyed bosses, snooze-inducing tasks, and yappy co-workers who can’t possibly know how much you really don’t care about their daughter’s birthday party. Luckily, there are support…
Monkeys have always made me happy. They can be eating ripe bananas, puckering their lips at zoo visitors, or swinging from trees in a National Geographic documentary. Whatever — total joy. As I kid, I played Monkey in the Middle, Barrel o’ Monkeys, and plenty of Donkey Kong. And every…
I’ve always hated football. Maybe it’s because I personally suck at organized sports. Maybe it’s because I just never saw the appeal of watching a bunch of hulking idiots trying to break one another’s bones and making millions of dollars doing it. Football fans, I thought, were a low-brow pack…
I was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cinnamon oatmeal. Nothing special, but that’s what I was doing the morning of September 11, 2001. That day of infamy is one of those indelible events. Like the Kennedy assassination, no one forgets what they were doing when they…
In my first month of living deep in the heart of Wilton Manors, I stopped at Georgie’s Alibi for a drink — and found myself to be the only young female for miles. After about an hour, someone approached me, asked if I was lost, and offered to direct me…
There are days that just fucking suck. Maybe you notice some weird rash after a recent one-night stand. Maybe you lose your job and come home early to find Mom in bed with the BF. Maybe you back your F-150 over your dog. Whatever; shit happens. And the ensuing bad…
Twas the night before Tropical Storm Fay, and already the sky looked dark and gloomy. I’d seen the advertisements for Palm Grill’s drink deal — three martinis for a measly $9 — awhile ago, but I was waiting for the perfect situation in which three martinis might be necessary. An…
I hate getting my hair cut. I hate the awkward, stilted conversations you have with hairdressers — those perfect strangers who just happen to be paid to wield scissors dangerously close to your throat. I hate how salons are as sterile and devoid of character — and damned near as…
