“Okay,” I told James as he flooded the engine of his Triumph Spitfire which, despite years of neglect, was in remarkably reliable condition. Somewhat. He beat his head on the steering wheel and screamed. I continued. “We do have a purpose today.” “What purpose?” he muttered, head against the wheel, hands on the cracked dashboard. […]
It’s time to answer the question that, I’m sure, is foremost in everyone’s mind: Where can I get a beer in Union Station at 8:30am? And I don’t mean buying one at the liquor store, or getting one down at the weird pizza joint in the gladiator pit food court and drinking in a corner […]
The thing I miss the most about Bethesda, MD, is the somewhat downtrodden have/have-not divide of the 80’s and early 90’s. Before it became a glittering jewel in the Galactic Empire’s crown. People make fun of me when I rant about gentrification but, seriously, retards, look around you. Most days, I feel like I woke […]
I have a rare free weekend coming up and, as Monday dawns harsh and merciless, I find that I’m irrationally excited about the idea that, come Friday, I’ll be able to come home, take off my pants, go nowhere, do nothing, and not utter a single word for 60 hours.
After nine years, I’m sad to report that the so-called “NoMa” section of Capitol Hill really sucks when it comes to drinking. I’m talking about the Mass Ave stretch…and beyond! NoMa being the wholly imaginary neighborhood “North of Mass Ave” which is Union Station and the dismal former-ghetto rolling down past the bus station to […]
For this final part in my randomly selected tour of Irish bars in DC, I’ll continue along the Red Line to Gallery Place, and finally Cleveland Park.
There’s an oddity in Wheaton, MD: A Scottish-themed bar. Though the theme is about as far as it goes. The only thing Scottish about the food is that all the dishes have names like “The Nessie Fish and Chips” and so on.
I’m routinely hard on the faux-Irish pub phenomenon that so consumes the American bar culture. It’s one of those things where, when confronted by the legion of faux-Irish pub apologists, I always end up pitching into an argument. Largely because they, those mad zealots, insist that certain pubs in the DC area are “authentic” Irish […]
Okay, fine, now I feel compelled to balance out my hateful review of 8047, thanks to that post’s impassioned commenter. Though my mental image of the person who wrote that comment is of a villain from an episode of Columbo. You know the type: The wealthy, arrogant brother-in-law with the goatee who’s always dressed like […]
There’s something to be said for eating at the bar. But there’s a certain way to go about it.