We here at the Institute of Drinking Studies are always looking for new watering holes to grace with our presence, our stunted sense of “humor” and the inevitable sexual advances of certain members whom I would not trust alone in a room with Sister Inviolata of the Painfully Chaste. Since…
Joey Buttafuoco. I can’t get my car serviced without thinking about Joey Buttafuoco, so you can imagine that going to a bar with “Garage” in its name was not high on my to-do list. Happily, a less mechanically inclined drinking companion convinced me to try the new Bannock Street Garage,…
Things just aren’t the same anymore. I think it’s the fault of the Democrats. Or maybe the Republicans, the Catholic Church, the Air Force Academy, carbs, your parents, fraternities and football (but not any members of frats or football teams, much less the coaches, athletic-department heads, regents or university presidents…
I don’t know which brilliant person figured out that if you add a full bar to the upper deck at a sports facility and call it “the club level,” you can charge people more money for seats on that level than they would pay to sit right next to the…
Turning thirty is a mother. All of a sudden your body is falling apart before your eyes; if things continue to progress at this pace, you’ll be in a nursing home within five years. For women, gravity gets stronger, and things start to droop. Although science tells us that body…
Yeah, baby, yeah! Maybe it’s because I grew up in a house where there was always some groovy Burt Bacharach hit on the record player, but I love anything from the ’60s. So when I walked into Harry’s Bar at the Magnolia Hotel, I fell instantly in love. This place…
“C’mon, let’s go to Willie’s! It’s Stripper Tuesday!” “Uh, dude, it’s Wednesday.” “Whatever.” Even as the Head of Drinking Regrets and I were having this conversation, other members of the Institute of Drinking Studies were well into their research, having gotten a call earlier from the Head of Sleeper Drunks…
My first cocktail-waitress job was at the Bull & Bush, and even back in the day, I knew the Bull was a special place. A Cheers-like place, full of womanizers like Sam Malone, lovable losers like Norm, annoying know-it-alls like Cliff, and at least one wiseass young cocktail waitress like…
I recently went to the happiest place on Earth — and no, I don’t mean Disneyland, which calls itself “The Happiest Place on Earth” because it has bathrooms cleaner than yours will ever be and employees who are happier than you’ll ever be. True, I have extremely fond memories of…
I have a terrible weakness for young, handsome, cocky bartenders. Young and handsome alone don’t do it, but add a little arrogance and I’m a goner. So when our young, handsome bartender said “Tsingtao is a Chinese beer, you moron, and we only have Japanese beers,” I knew I was…
There’s nothing like a bad case of hiccups to ruin an otherwise enjoyable evening of greasy food and excellent drink. I’m talking about hiccups that rip through your body like a seizure, giving you a near-fatal case of whiplash and leaving the taste of bile in the back of your…
When my dining companion asked the waitress, “Is your salmon wild or is it farm-raised, and if it is wild, has it been injected with red dye?” I thought, holy Grateful Dead, if that isn’t affirmation I’m in Boulder, I don’t know what is. So I gave my Boulder-raised friend…
So I’m driving down the road the other day, flashing dirty looks and giving the finger to all the morons with cell phones stuck in their ears, when I notice this whistling sound coming from my sunroof. Perplexed, I look up to see that my ski racks are bent down…
During college, we’d go to a notorious party town to blow off steam after a long stretch of school in a notoriously boring town. We’d all shack up at some condo where, after the three beds and two couches were taken, the safest spots to sleep were under the kitchen…
When I came to Colorado ten years ago and immediately started railing against the typical Coloradan’s lack of driving skill (“It’s snowing/raining — we’d better slow down to half the speed limit!”), I was informed that Coloradans (or whatever you call yourselves) weren’t at fault; it was all the damn…
Sparrows are considered rather common, but common is not the word you would use to describe the new restaurant that bears the bird’s name. An enthusiastic foursome is trying to make Sparrow fly in the space that over the past two decades has housed Transalpin, JV’s the Cork, Sacre Bleu…
Many things cause guys to regress and act half their ages. Women, for example, can turn even accomplished hounds into virtual teenagers who will do anything — including change their hairstyle, clothing and job — to impress them. When a guy gets “sick” with the sniffles, he can put on…
Serial bartender: It’s a scary concept. Okay, not nearly as frightening as Ted Bundy or some other serial types, but Oran Feild is almost as well known in this state. He could even go by one name, like Cher or Madonna. So when I entered Monarck, the latest alcohol-dispensing venue…
We here at the Institute of Drinking Studies are nothing if not conscientious. We advocate strict rules that govern the planning and execution of a night out, guaranteeing a successful recovery sometime the following week. For example, you must carefully choose venue, transportation, food intake, poison of choice, whom you…
“You’ve never had Hpnotiq? Hpno’s the shit, dog!” said Dave Herrera, a man recognized more for his music knowledge than for his cocktail choices. “Drink Hpno and you’re gonna be bangin’ with Dre by the end of the night.” Hpnotiq, also known as “blue juice,” has been a favorite of…
This is my favorite time of year. By early September, the temperature’s cooling off, football is dominating more and more of SportsCenter and every other sportscast, and vicious campaign advertisements start showing up on TV. With the close presidential race and a hotly contested Colorado senatorial campaign, I foresee spending…
There are two types of people — those who love the Palm, and those who don’t understand why other people love the Palm. I was a member of the latter group when I lived in Manhattan, and craggy, ancient salesmen would take me to the original Palm on Second Avenue…
