Fast Track Prototype

Enlist! Join the Beer Pong Campaign Against Blood Cancers at South

Beer Pong can help discover cures for blood cancers!

With beers in arms, we’ll combine forces with The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and take the fight against blood cancers to their doorsteps.

South
Santa Monica
Sunday, Feb. 28, 2010
4-7 pm

It gets better. By contributing $10 to the war effort, you’ll earn yourself a mark of honor granting you access to an opportunity drawing and these bar specials:

$3 Domestic Drafts
$10 Domestic Pitchers
½ off Wings, Fries and Nachos!

Take up arms for an all out beer pong assault.

$15 for solo players
$25 for 2 player teams

• You get a pitcher of beer for your first game
• Earn a mark of honor to enter into an opportunity drawing and access to bar specials
• The satisfaction of knowing you made an active contribution to supply the front lines in the war against blood cancers.

This is just the beginning, troops! Let’s start off the season with a bang. With Team in Training and The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, let’s show cancer no mercy. Be strong in your stride and march towards victory!

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Tags: Beer, Beer Pong, Drink Specials, Prototype Marketing, South, Team in Training, The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society

Because Drunken Pool is So Much Better Than Sober Pool

My tongue keeps running over the serrated edges of my newly chipped tooth from last night. It’s not so bad, you can’t really see it when I talk or smile, but if you look closely, you’ll see a tiny snag. My tongue swears it’s the size of a Giza pyramid hanging upside down geofront style. Like I could sink my teeth into a piece of meat and great white the mother fucker off it’s hook. I have to keep telling myself it’s tiny. My tongue keeps running across it. Why do we hate ourselves so much that we keep picking at the things that hurt?

I was trying to tell a story about something when I made an attempt to bite into my mug – for effect – and it wasn’t a tiny frosty mug, it was a liter. Add a few spikes and it’s a fuckin deadly weapon by ATF standards. So in my horribly coordinated state, instead of successfully biting into the mug to demonstrate the silliness of my story, I ended up colliding with the rim of the glass resulting in a very uncomfortable stun. I’m actually lucky I didn’t knock my tooth out or give myself an un-cosmetic chip. It’s bad enough I break out into whistling Pete at random times.

After downing two liters of Alaskan Amber, a few fries, a chicken strip, 3 peanuts and 3 lollipop chick cigs at Heroes, we made our way to Stubrick’s to cap the night. Stubrick’s by the way is right next to Slide Bar where the infamous too drunk to care to get her number story took place. Idiots.

Some guys who were playing pool gave us their game to finish so my friend and I went against Sketch by his lonesome. Keep in mind, all of us were pretty toasty at the time so we can pretty much sum up the game as the “longest pool game ever with 3 balls.” Luckily for us Sketch scratched and we won by default. Usually I hate winning like that, but victory is victory.

I could sprinkle in all the reasons why we initially went from West LA to downtown Fullerton, but it’s irrelevant. The important thing was that we showed moral support, we made a statement about people and friendship and the support system that we need as human beings.

I mean shit, fuck the drive, I chipped my gawd damn tooth!

Tags: Break Ups, Downtown Fullerton, Heroes, Stubrick's

Playboy Bunnies Are Soft and Cuddly

My face was firmly planted in the couch. I moved my eyes as far as I could to peer at the clock and saw that it was almost 10:15 pm. Sketch said he’d be popping by at that time to go to a fundraiser involving playboy bunnies and karaoke. You’d think I’d be excited about that prospect alone, two quintessential things coming together to form a robotic tour de force of mechanical lion sweetness.

Nope.

I was happy on the couch.

I’ve been suffering from mild fatigue so I’ve been sluggish and the couch had me in its warm embrace.

Sketch showed up and since I committed to the event, I peeled my face off the couch and we drove down to a ghost town of a street. There was hardly any traffic, all the shops were closed – it was very eerie. I expected zombies to come trudging out from behind the corner and me with no weapon; we would have been brain flambe. The only sounds came from the bar we were headed to and once we got inside we were greeted by platinum blonds, tiny skirts and sake shots. Admittedly, we totally did sake a bad deal and tossed them down like bad whiskey, but in all fairness, two did the trick to get me primed to sing a song when the lights came on.

It was time to go home. Vanessa, our French Canadian server was a doll and humored us so we pulled in one more round just for her and then stepped out into the quiet to find out what our next destination was. Our friend at Maloney’s wasn’t working and due to an intense craving for Ariza’s we called up our Silver Lake resident and with a little nudge and her brokering out of a glass of wine she agreed to meet up with us at El Prado to indulge in more beer and then ultimately, Ariza’s.

The night almost took a nose dive when we walked out of El Prado and turned the corner only to find the street normally vacated by the Ariza’s Taco trailer empty. At first I thought I was seeing things. Not seeing the trailer there, well I’ve never not seen the trailer there, was heartbreaking. Sketch has been witness to its great escapes before, but for me, it was like removing the top off a girl and not being greeted by her mammarian friends. We stood there stunned. It wasn’t even go time and they definitely went a go. Luckily for us, our Echo Park guide took us to the next best thing. Taco Zone.

Don’t be fooled by the name. It’s the real deal. Their creamy green sauce, which really wasn’t your standard fair verde, made for an extra kick of flavor that made my medley of lengua on tortilla a delight. I’m not kidding, there was no regret on my end for missing Ariza’s truck. But then again, I was pretty buzzed and day old taco bell would have been divine.

Tags: Echo Park, El Prado, Karaoke, Silver Lake, Taco Zone

Parking Lot Parties and Porta Potty Prevention Policies

Time couldn’t have been any slower than it was yesterday. Watching the time tick at what seemed like half the pace of slower than slow was torturous. That uneasy, antsy, nervous energy that makes you shake your leg in unimpeded pedi-strokes makes the trek through the time shift of forever feel forlorn in unforgotten futility.

Fast Forward. Emosweater was standing by his car as mine pulled up, I lucked out and sniped a parking spot in the wonky plaza where Good Microbrew & Grill sat. All he had to do was make mention of $3 beers and flash me a photo of a burger with a halo of crispy fried cheese singing praises of wonderment to make me strong arm through that nasty 10/110/101 orgy of fat traffic and see for myself. My stomach was whimpering its fugliness that feeding time was due hours ago so there was high priority in me kicking its face in with a good old fashioned burger.

We were two of five and the hostess, who refused to seat us because the rest of the party wasn’t present suggested we romp a tiny table and musical chairs our way up and play table tango until the rest of the team arrived. The five of us were finally there to combine our lionbots and have a Voltron of a time.

Four rounds of mystery beers and an Exorcism Burger later we time lapsed the night time streets to El Prado where we indulged in playing guessing games with the bartender, let the ladies ladle wine and lounge in leisure while the men decided crafty beers and clinky cheers were standard fair for our nightly affairs.

With Ariza sitting in our stomachs and sobering up in parking lot parties the night time ne’rdowells did nothing but needfully bring time to its knees. Emosweater literally got shit on his pants from prancing too close to porta potties and a decision came my way that peeing between two cars is cover enough to make me go camouflage.

Congratulations this is our 100th post.

Tags: Adventure, Ariza, Beer, El Prado, Good Microbrew & Grill, Silver Lake, wine

Small Talk: Are You a Beer Drinker?

Mystery beers were abound last night at Good in Silver Lake. For $3 a pop we took our chances and played brewlette to see what would land in our hands. I’m not too finicky when it comes to my beer choices, I used to be, but suffering through a year of recession beers has really let me slide in terms of the kind of brew I’ll say yes to.

Three of us were seasoned beer drinkers. One was just fresh on the, “holy-shit-beer-is-good train” and the other is still, well, training. I have to give her a pat on the back, she was being a good sport and trying to muscle through some of the microbrews that landed in her lap. You have to somewhat trust the fact that if someone is going to pay money to bottle it, it’s got to be somewhat tasty – ok, maybe not always.

Which brings to mind the fact that I wasn’t always a beer drinker either. In fact, I used to hate the stuff, I know, blasphemy! I hated it so much that I refused to drink it, to me it made no sense that someone could ever want to drink something that tasted like carbonated fart. Well one summer in college was all it took for me to change my mind when I was forced to drink nothing but beers as the parties I went to, well that’s all they were stocked with. Eventually my palette was able to differentiate all the different nuances of beer, the tastes, the subtleties, the kicks and the punches.

I’m totally a beer snob now.

So are you a beer drinker? If you love the stuff, what was your mode of discovery. Are you one of those who absolutely detests beer? Why? Are you willing to change your palette and appreciate the brewed goodness that is a gift from the heavens?

Tags: Beer, Good Microbrew & Grill, Silver Lake, Small Talk

1 liter, 2 liters, 3 liters, Floor.

O’hara’s (Maloney’s) had 1 liter beers for 8 bucks. That’s 2 pints of beer. So essentially you’re paying 4 bucks a pint. And after a round of beer math, that means we’re going to spend the night there.

Imagine my surprise when the deal was for real beer. The domestics, which to be fair, I enjoy too, especially during “recession session” (drinking for cheap), were only 5 bucks a liter.

Toss in a game of competitive quarters, we totally made some dude leave because we were dropping quarters so fast he couldn’t hang, noob – and 3 liters later, we were out the door for some Big Tomy’s.

I must apologize, this post is drab. I woke up, not hung over, but not feeling great either, so all my wit for today, is gone.

Enjoy the weekend.

Tags: Beer, College Bar, Drink Specials, O'Haras (Maloney's), Sports Bar, Thursday

Karaoke Bleu on a Thursday and the Heartbreak of a Failed Happy Hour

Despite what some may believe, my total ficklicity immersion experience complete with estrogen packets was a result of me totally checking into heartbreak hotel when my dreams of a happy hour-esque gala were short lived and slammed in my face by the reality that there was no one to cruise the specials with since everyone I would care to drink with doesn’t get off until after – the – happy hour therefore crushing all hopes for cheap beers and thrills right after the work hours. Because then everything goes back to regular price and I don’t want to play victim here, but due to certain economic weather conditions I could use an easy beer.

So I was a bit unsettled after I had reluctantly settled for Father’s Office 2. We stayed for a beer, then =W= made the push for Bleu. Brilliant, since I was over the happy hour sentiment and was tinkering with the idea of Bleu throughout the day.

As usual, after a few ounces of liquor hitting my brain, I was out to sink my teeth into one of the bleu girls – Ayano – this time around, whose – bear with me here – mouth was very yummy looking. Seriously, her mouth. I wanted to wrap mine around hers and this is fuckin weird, because gat dangit if you will, this shit always happens to me at Bleu where I get a bit fuzzy and the bleu girls just start looking like delectable treats I want to package in cute asian wrapping and take home. Gawd that was a fetish sentence if there was one.

Point is, after a semi disappointing beginning to the evening, it ended well.

Bleu, never fails.

Tags: Karaoke Bleu

Adventure Tuesdays: Cinco de Mayo

Last night we lulled around the house waiting for people to arrive before we left to celebrate the day. In all honesty, I think it’s hilarious – not because the holiday itself is hilarious, but that we needed a reason to celebrate – which – we don’t. Ahh, I love to over use dashes in my banter – it – represents my actual prose very well. Boo digression.

I hate to even call it “night.” There was still sunlight and it wasn’t anywhere near eight o clock so I was more prone to call it day, but wtf, who cares, we were hanging around the house waiting for people – I can’t believe it took me two paragraphs to express that – oh quiet, you know you enjoy the prose.

After a constant back and forth of “where are we going tonight’s” Sketch and I decided it was finally time to just nail the mother fucker so we can plan accordingly. Seriously, it was like trying to decide whether or not to drop a fuckin bomb. Just pick a place and let’s go. So we steered the sentiment into Barney’s and went for it.

Just a quick statement about discussion of events. If you’re going to contribute to the confusion and indecisive nature of where to have fun, please show up once we decide and NOT FLAKE. It’s lame when you bog down the decision making process and then not show up to said event you caused verbal traffic on.

$3 Dos Equis, $1 Tacos and lots of baby style “pretty eyes” with the server and we’re talking a slam packed evening of beer downage, FU =W= you’re a monster! Patron shots and lots of noise for the bargain price of $28. I’m not even kidding. Well $38, 10 for tip, like I said I was making “pretty eyes” with Marina. She loves me. She would hate to admit it. Just like your mom. She hates me, all mom’s hate to love me.

When the lackluster, low stamina light drinkers turned in to go home because of “work,” “school”, or other such nonsense that prevents them from staying out late, we high tailed it Maloney’s/O’Hara’s – man that is a bitch to type – to join Amber (this fake name makes me laugh) and her positively sexed up cowgirl outfit and all manners of capping off the evening with more beers and shots that were strangely paid for by the all smiles bartender. The only one who wasn’t smiling was the door guy, there was a line outside, but with a simple phone call Amber laid waste to the doorman’s attempt to keep us out and we literally, Red Sea’d into the Bar (Tip: you don’t say no to Amber).

The rest of the evening was spent with very close calls of things I absolutely cannot mention and ending the evening with a trip to good old Jack’s place for his, yes, I will sing it if I will, “Mini Sirloin Burgers!” K got the chicken strips and we did an exchange of goods. I love finger foods.

As I write this I can smell myself and it’s not all that sexy. But that’s Office Champ Life.

Tags: Adventure Tuesdays, Barney's Beanery, Office Champs