The Trappist.

 

The Trappist

One stop shopping for all your Belgian beer needs. Now I don't exactly know what differentiates a Belgian beer from a normal beer. I suppose I could do a Wiki on it, but that would be too easy. I'll go on not exactly knowing for now.

 

What I do know is that these beers are strong. And if you know nothing about me then you know that I like strong beers. The draft menu contains a list of beers that are all in the realm of knock you on your ass strong. Yet being that they are Belgian beers, they don't taste it. I am used to the IPA and double IPA's, which taste hoppy and strong as hell. These beers however are light and crisp, yet share the same 9% alcohol level as my tried and true IPA's. Some of the beers on the menu are even 10% alcohol by volume (abv according to most beer snobs).

Make sure you show up with dinner in your belly, cause if you don't I guarantee you'll be laid out on the floor not having such a great time. These Belgian beers sneak up on you, like ninja's, actually they are more like alcoholic ninjas. Ready to pounce and make you projectile vomit when you least expect it.

And this my friends is the type of beer I enjoy. The type that will sneak up on you and kick your ass when you least expect it. Everyone needs this in their life, a good ass kicking (but only the proverbial type, not an actual ass kicking cause that hurts and is no fun).

No You Can't Get That Here

I have been uninspired to write about bathrooms as of late. So I haven't written about bathrooms, in a while. Yet I am still inspired to write, and I really like the look and feel of this place so I think I'll keep writing here. Just may not be about bathrooms specifically. May have to do more beer reviews, cause I drink a lot of beer and feel you should know about it. Whomever you are looking for "pisshow," that's gross and seriously knock it off. This is the home of the drunk wizz, in a toilet, in a room designated for such activities, and most importantly no one else involved. Of course now it may just change into drunk ramblings or semi sober moments of clarity. Either way my new years resolution (in August) is to keep writing words in this spot under this moniker and have all you lovely people read it. That means you mister Inside Line.

WTF at the Mallard.

Seriously. What the fuck?

Where am I?

Walking into this bathroom that I have known and loved for years to be greeted by posh stone and clean walls was a slap in the face. I stood there stunned exclaiming out loud "What the fuck did they do!?"

What did they do? They took all the charm and flushed it down the proverbial toilet. I mentioned a while ago, that I had the idea for this blog while in this very bathroom. Well this is not the same bathroom. The one I know and love was covered in a beautiful mural, it covered the walls and the ceiling. The best part was the diatribe directly above the urinal. Oh how I would love to remember those words right now. It was literary genius, scrawled on bathroom walls.

I suppose this falls into the "All good things must come to an end" category of life experience. Yet this doesn't make the sting go away any faster. I do love the Mallard, it has been a fun place (best jukebox in town). But the owners missed the ball on this one.

I can't wait to see what it looks like with graffiti all over it...

Bar None.

It is fitting I ended up at the Bar None early Sunday afternoon. I say this because I woke up at 8 that morning to attend the largest party, bar none. I also drank more alcohol before noon than I ever have, bar none.


I was one of the reveler's walking around drunk at 10 in the morning and pissing on your doorstep. Such is the case every year at Bay To Breakers. Wake up at 8, start drinking at 9, and drunk by 10. What happens after that is between me and whoever's garage door I peed on. This year we were blessed with perfect weather, which was good because I had hardly any clothes on.

At some point during the day we left the mass of drunk people and decided to head to the North Beach area of San Francisco, and we ended up at a basement bar called Bar None. Had I not been so drunk I would have realized what a "frat boy" type bar this is (hence the north beach local). But I was drunk and really didn't care, plus when I walked in people were playing this:

Beer Pong at a bar...yes

They had me at hello. We did not play beer pong, but we did throw some darts. I was smashed enough that darts came easily, and I pretty much played the greatest game of darts of my entire life (now I know how the pros do it!). Details of this bar are fuzzy, but pictures are worth a thousand words right? Right.

What I found backed up the whole frat boy charm of this place. The only place you see horse trough style urinals (HTSU) are at sporting venues. Because when a million men need to lose a half million gallons of fluid, they prefer the HTSU (apparently?). Nothing is more impersonal and awkward than standing shoulder to shoulder with your fellow man to relieve yourself. While trying not to look (but also trying to get it going), you get to contemplate things like football and women, you know, manly things! Or if your like me you wonder why the hell the floor is so wet!?

You also get to contimplate how awesome your shoes are.

Getting Hardcore at the Ruby Room

"The Ruby Room: Come for the drinks, stay for the urinal cakes!"

You walk in and even though it was dark outside, it is even darker inside the Ruby Room. It takes a good 10 minutes for your eyes to adjust, and even when they do you find a cloud of smoke obscuring whatever else you can see. All this makes for an odd night out. Which is usually the best times. Going home smelling of smoke, wasted, and ears ringing from loud music is always a fun way to end the night, isn't it?

I was told before checking out the bathroom that it was the worst. That a man would not want to see it during the day, it was foul, it was horrid. I was intrigued. I had been here before, but always as a night cap, and couldn't quite remember what the men's room had in store for me.

What I found was the usual spray paint and tags everywhere, better lighting than what the bar had to offer, and lots of urinal cakes (my favorite part by far). The paint job had an effect like a zebra, walls seemed to run together, and if you didn't look close enough you would completely miss the stall. I have to say, whomever was describing this bathroom to me at the beginning of the night was a lightweight, I have seen far worse rooms than this one. From what this person was telling me, I was half expecting to find a dead body. There were none however, and in the end I found my time here quite pleasant. And by pleasant, I mean super relieving and extra awesome.

Another favorite part, were the stickers on the inside of the toilet. Some brave souls put those there. The best was "The Twots" sticker. With a name like that they must be good right?

Friday Nite Story

...because I felt like writing.


When thinking of an idea for a blog, I immediately went towards a bike blog, because I enjoy bikes, and they are what occupies most of my time. It was after reading a NY Times Magazine article about a certain blogger on Gawker.com, that first planted the seed of blogging in my head. This particular article didn't paint a pretty picture by any stretch of the means, in fact it was a story of betrayal and one of being a prisoner to the world which you have worked hard to achieve. Confusing I know. I guess it was one line that struck me, and through the wonders of the modern Internet I bring you that line:

"there was a public place where I would always be allowed to write, without supervision, about how I felt."

This article also talked about why the particular blogger felt the need to write in the public domain. Why she felt compelled to post her feelings and words for everyone to read. And the effect of those around her (it was a good article, very entertaining...check it out here).

It was these questions that compelled me to start a blog. Thinking about it more and more I realized that I had interesting stories, and felt compelled to share them with the world. I mean really, who DOESN'T like talking about themselves? I am quite a grounded, respectful individual. Yet half the things in my life that are totally awesome, and things that I wish I could tell people about, go by unnoticed by everyone around me. I try to tell my stories, but in explaining the awesomeness, most (if not all) is lost. And that sucks. It was this inspiration that I decided within myself that I would start a bike blog, all my biking related stories of awesomeness all in one place. And when I pitched this to the person closest to me, I was met with this response:

"Yeah but all those blogs are boring."

My mouth agape and stopped dead in my tracks, I contemplated this. I had no response, mine too would probably fall into the "boring" category. Save for the few close friends that would read it, most would probably chance upon it and move on. Though this person quickly backtracked and assured me that it was a good idea and I should pursue my dream. Yet the damage was done, and I abandoned the idea.

Yet in the back of my mind I had always had an idea, unrelated to blogging and even the Internet. It came to me one night while standing in front of a urinal, staring up at the ceiling reading a diatribe about single malt whiskey. Though as much as I would love to share that diatribe with you, I have long since forgotten it (though I have read it many times, all of which I was in fact, drunk). Unfortunately for me, this work of art has been painted over, and I think this particular move by "The Mallard" was along the lines of painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa.

Standing there while relieving myself I thought of all the times I have stood in places like this one before. Wobbly, relieved, and completely happy. That night I realized I needed to chronicle these odd places in which I've been. The first idea that came to me was a coffee table book, with big pictures and funny stories. This would take money, and pro type equipment, and oh yeah...writing skills. In a more sober state I realized the blog world would do just fine, or just until publishing opportunities arose.

I am still in the process of backtracking through all those nights standing in front of urinals, looking around amazed at the decor, or utterly disgusted, or a mix of both. But I think so far what I have realized is that I am not doing this for you or anyone else, it is for me. So I guess I am not as conceited as I thought, just a little self centered.

Rickshaw Stop

It was a random outing on a Thursday night which brought me to the Rickshaw Stop. The mass of bikes outside told me I was in a good place. We had come for an acapella group, but stayed for the rockin country music. Many beers were drank, and only a few actually made it onto my tab (in lieu of correcting the bartenders and making them feel stupid, I just tipped heavily and thanked them graciously for their hospitality).

For once I found myself in a spacious place to do my bizz. After 4 beers I appreciated the ability to spread out, and not feel so claustrophobic. I found myself wondering what the large pipes were for, they are my favorite part of this bathroom. I like to think that they are only cosmetic and serve no purpose. Or perhaps they are actually vacuum tubes like they have at the bank, and secret documents are flying past as I wizz. Yeah, that is a good one...


We stayed for all three bands. The first being the acapella group which we had paid the 8 bucks to see. The night was young so we stayed for the next band, Pete Bernhard. He was awesome, it was a folky rock show, and I love it when melding like this happens.

Pete Bernhard

There was even a bit of crowd surfing going on. Which is fun to see, until you get a boot in your eye...

Wyoming Style

Recently I returned to my homeland. That homeland being Wyoming. It is that place where seldom is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are not cloudy all day. That is actually a crock of shit, cause gossip is the word and when I was there, it was windy as hell and as gray as a Gerhard Richter painting (obscure reference, I know).

Talking about painters, I have to mention that my great grandmother painted the photo above, the original bar bathroom. I have to say it looks so inviting, who wouldn't want to trudge through snow and cold just to relieve themselves? For those who have not had the pleasure of using an outhouse, it is a glorified hole in the ground and smells like a port-o-pottie in the middle of summer just after a thousand fat construction workers finished the annual baked bean cook off. And I'm not exaggerating.

This was the only bar bathroom photo I could snap while on my trip. The bars there are actually quite depressing. It is full of old men whom have not left their hometown. Old men who got married and had kids right out of high school, and resent the fact that they are stuck in the same place. They also don't like outsiders, and even though I grew up in this town, I have been gone long enough that I am a stranger from the outside and treated as such. Like shit in an outhouse. Don't worry, I am not bitter at all. I accept this, and then hop on a plane headed back to California, where everyone is an outsider.

The thing I love about California is that everyone is just too busy chasing their own dreams to care about what I am up to. Which inspires me to chase my own...

Elbo Room Round 2: Upstairs.

Boy that guy sure could dub.

Partying on a Sunday evening is not usually a good idea. Unless of course you don't work on Monday. Which I don't, so I had a good time going into the city to see a show on a Sunday night. Every Sunday the Elbo room hosts "Dub Mission. The best in dub, dubstep, roots & dancehall." If I knew what any of that means I would say so, but I don't so I won't. The music was alright, and I thought it was cool that the venue became a large humidor of pot smoke. Which is always fun.

Unfortunately I forgot to bring my real camera, so the cell phone had to suffice. The upstairs differed from its downstairs brother in one big department, it had a door. Though it was tight, as they usually are, and lit by a single red light. Which I have come to find out makes anyone look awesome, even myself! (Had unfortunate time once while hitting on hot chick in ruby room only to find out under the moonlight she was neither hot or a chick. But I'll save that story for another time)

Sink, don't swim.

Ash Tray.

Another key part about the dive bar bathroom is the fact that it becomes an ash tray many times. Now this is becoming less and less prevalent but once in a while you will find a bar that still allows people to smoke even though the law forbids it. Most of these bars just turn a cheek and go under the premise of "out of sight out of mind." This one had that goin on, though it is hard to see in this picture, ash was all over the floor and in the urinal. I think it really adds to the experience.

Red light makes everything better.

Unlike last time, I was able to use the photo booth. That booth session now hangs on my fridge, next to the drawing of a puppy I did for art class last week. I was pretty drunk by the end of this night, and spent most my Monday nursing a headache, but it was awesome to party like that on a Sunday, I'll probably do it again sometime! Next up I take you outa the state to a good ol' hometown bar...but that's next time.

Big Bands at Small Venues

This is a lamentation of a man whom would like to see a show, but will be unable to attend. Yes there have been many shows missed in my life. But once in a while you find a band that is only headed up, and for one brief moment they hang on the cusp of popularity. While hanging on said cusp it is not uncommon to see bands like these play small venues that cannot nearly contain the awesomness.

This Sunday a party shall be had in Oakland. At a tiny little venue called "The Stork Club," a very large and most assuredly loud band will be playing. The band is Red Fang. Now I'm sure this won't be the only time I'll be able to see them live, I'm just guessing it will be the only chance at such a small venue.

Monotonix playing the Stork Club

I'm guessing the show will look something like this. It will no doubt be eight kinds of awesome, and it is something I will regret missing. For a couple of hours anyway, then I'll get over it.

Semi Annual Weekly Blatant Filler Beer Review

It has been a fortnight since I have written and I apologize (to myself because I am the only one that reads this). I was inspired to write (or as it's known in the 21st century: blog) when I found a limited release Barley Wine at my local 7-11.

That's right, I said 7-11. Right next to the moldy bacon, just beyond the Chelada (Bud Light and Clamato), I found Lagunitas' Gnarly Wine.


Lagunitas made Gnarly Wine as their take on a Barley Wine style beer. Barley Wine is quickly becoming the wine for beer connoisseurs. It is not quite wine because it usually has a high alcohol content (8-11%) like wine, but made from grain and not fruit, so it is a beer!

So far I have not been wooed by barley wine, but I have not had too many of them. I can tell you that this one began working on me, it was pretty damn tasty. Barley wines I have had before, are very sweet, which was the case here. Gnarly Wine had a strong brown sugar taste to it, sweeter than I am used to, but I liked it. It has a much thicker feel to it than regular beer, and their is no getting around the fact that this guy is a strong 11% beer. Its effect on me was almost instant.

Barley wine connoisseurs go through great lengths to make it seem more like actual wine. They do this by aging bottles of it for many months or even years. And if I were more patient I would do this as well, but unfortunately if I buy a bottle of beer it won't last more than a couple nights, let alone a month or year. Not to say I haven't thought about trying it! Perhaps I'll leave that to the pros and just continue enjoying my beer rather than storing it for a later date.

Of all the Lamity

I feel like blog posts should be a proving ground for new words. Like "Lamity."

Lamity:
Of and or being like and resembling anything that is not awesome and/or rad.

"When Micheal Bolton is in the house, lamity will insue."

Okay, so its not the best word. The lamity today has been that I have no interesting stories of clowns, or radtarded hair styles to tell you about. But I do have this, the best (and most elaborate) way to pour a beer (in German):




I too have always loved the sound an empty bottle makes in the morning.

Weekly Weekend Blatant Filler Beer Review (WWBFBR)

I mentioned in this post, that I am in fact from rural America (thats Uhmurikah if your G.W.). And while I live and work and get rad in the city, a little piece of me still lies with the wide open spaces of the heartland. And tonight I had a beer that embodied this better than any I've had before it. Trout Slayer Ale is a bold beer, from Montana. And as we all know Montana is the wild west. My only beef with this beer is the label. I think it should have been something more along the lines of these guys fishing, for these fish. But that is just me. Regardless of the label, this beer is extra tasty. It is your classic ale with a strong, hoppy taste, and sort of a fruity finish. Overall a great beer. And I may only be saying that because of the awesome name, and the fact that it is from Montana, but what can I say? I am easy that way.

The Doc's Clock and Frank Chu Conspiracy

The Doc's Clock is a funky little place in the mission. It used to be right next to a funky club called 12 Galaxies. Until that club shut down 6 months ago. Now it is the funky little place right next to that abandoned building. 12 Galaxies was no doubt the funkiest music venue around mainly because it got its name from this guy:

Frank Chu doing what he does best.

Frank Chu is the man everyone knows in the bay area. Much like the tamale lady, and the pink unitard guy on a unicycle, he is a local legend. If you attend any large event, he will be there. If you find yourself on Market street at the right time, he will be there. Hell even if you attend a small club with just a few people hanging out, Frank Chu will be there. His form of protest is slight, and in large part impossible to understand. He is calling for the impeachment of Bill Clinton (still), but not for the reasons you've already heard (giggity). Apparently Bill had the CIA withhold Frank's payment for being on a T.V. show called "The Richest Family." His work is tireless and I really commend him for his determination. But beyond all that, Frank Chu is simply an affirmation that you are at a worthy event. Because if Frank Chu is there, you better hope you are too!

No I wasn't contemplating all this while whizzing at the Doc's Clock, it is just hard to tell the story of Doc's, without the story of the 12 Galaxies, and not also mention Frank Chu. So on to Docs Clock...

I love Doc's cause of all the P.B.R memorabilia on the walls, they also have shuffleboard, and a good beer selection. Everything you need for a good night out. It is a very chill place, it seems like most people find a booth and hang out and chat, which is really what bars are for. Not too much booty shakin goin on here, just libations over conversation.

The bathroom was great. Though cramped, and a little awkward with other people present (isn't it always), they do have cool things to look at. Plastered all over the walls are old calenders with pin-up girls. And as I have come to find out, pin-up girls are the classiest way to ogle women. This one was right above the urinal as you can see, though the flash sort of destroys it, she was a beautiful sight.



With that sexy thought I leave you. I leave you with dreams of pin-up girls and Frank Chu... Phixgrostrenikul bitches!

Show me your Elbo

The Elbo Room in S.F. is sort of a best of both worlds situation. Because it is both a bar and music venue, yet separates the two. Music is upstairs, bar is downstairs. So when they do have music, you don't have to pay a cover just to hang out and get drunk. It is a bar that is hard to label, as it attracts a very diverse crowd. Yet it is quite down to earth thankfully. The music acts it finds to play upstairs are usually an eclectic mix of beats, funk, and reggea. Though I don't think they ever really have any rock acts play (which is why I've only been here twice). I do like this bar, they have a great beer selection, and best of all they have a cool photobooth.

Second best part is the rabit above the bar.

Again I had to flex my super sweet ninja camera skills (SSNCS for short) to get a picture of this bathroom. You literally walk around a corner and you are in the bathroom, one urinal, one formal toilet. I felt like I was taking a wizz behind a tree just off the interstate, you're a little bit hidden and maybe no one is looking...maybe. Lets just say it is a little exposed. And don't think the ladies were excluded, no it was the same for them. I had to remind myself to zip up BEFORE I turned around to save myself the embarrasment of flashing my willy to the entire bar. I guess having it this way keeps people from tagging, and stickering the crap out of the walls. Though I have stated before that I enjoy random tags and such, and enjoy when bars embrace it.

Sparse yet pleasant

One thing I don't get is how bathroom floors get wet like this one was. Seriously the entire area had a good half inch of water on it. There was no sink and the toilet flushed fine. Someone should check the plumbing!

Our next stop after the Elbo Room, was the Docs Clock. Though I am trying to milk this one night for all it's got, so I am just gonna go ahead and make you wait for that one. Till then, Cheers!

About the clown...

Friday night saw me out at The Bottom of the Hill. One of the greatest and bestest music venues in the bay area. And better yet, the show we saw was a part of Noise Pop 2009. Noise Pop is on par with SXSW (most the bands we saw are headed south [by southwest]). Only Noise Pop hasn't been blown up by the media and overrun with lame-wads. Needless to say it was awesome to be out at this venue for this event. I didn't know any of the bands that were playing, but was pleasantly surprised by these guys: Kinch. Though the headliners Friday night didn't do much for me, I still enjoyed the show. That was due in large part to this guys hair...

Yes folks that's a mullet with a cheek strap.

The Cheek Strap is popular with those trying to get away from the traditional Chin Strap, and who don't want to go with the full on beard. And the mullet, well it is just bad, so bad it's awesome. Such awesomeness has a word, and that word is: radtarded. This guy's hair would not be the last of the radness. Not by a long shot. But being that technically I'm here writing about restrooms and not radtarded hair, I should go ahead and mention the sweet men's room action.


It was high time for the quintessential music venue bathroom (MVB for short). Whilst doing my bizz, I thought that it would be an interesting experiment to check out some or all of the bands that have plastered their stickers on the walls of this place. I love when I walk into a restroom and feel a part of history. I like it even more when that history is plastered, scribed, and etched all over the walls. I didn't see it on Friday, but just now I spied a sticker from one of my favorite bands, Day One Symphony. Their sticker is right above the busted ass towel dispenser. I have seen these guys live many times, and every time they were at the Bottom of the Hill. Just do me a favor go to their myspace and listen to Coma Bath, you will not be disappointed.

After taking in the music, and more than a few pints of Fat Tire, we hit the dusty trail and made our way to bart. Then things got weird. And by weird, I mean completely awesome.


Because there was a clown on board. He made balloon animals and everything. Not that I am into clowns that much, it is just the sort of random thing you find on a bart train late at night. Not to mention he was playing music from a discman (yes a discman!) hooked up to a pink amplifier. The looks on people's faces as they entered the car was priceless. So between clowns on bart and mullet/cheek strap combinations, I would have to say this night was one for the ages. A classic, and I am glad I could share the oddities with you... my one reader...

Also visited a couple other bar bathrooms on saturday night, but will save those for later.

What A Friday Night.

This guy can attest to the awesomeness of this friday night out. Shoes were unleashed upon the world, clowns kicked out the jams, and a little girl's wish for a balloon hat was granted. Stay tuned for a full report.

Waterin Holes and Holy Water

My first images of bar life were no doubt sculpted by places like these. You see I grew up in rural America. The only bars I ever wanted to go to had those sweet swinging doors like in any western film you've ever seen.

Now I may be old school, but to me these "hip" bars and "trendy" places just don't do it for me. I need to get back to my roots. Saloon doors and simple pleasures will do for me. Give me "The Pub" or give me death. The Pub is a local joint, just a couple blocks down from where I work everyday. And while easily missed you have to understand that it is something special. Imagine a bar/pub in your own home. Your own couches, your own ambiance, your own friends. And most of all imagine your own keg tap. For some this is a reality. But for most this is just a dream.


Enter The Pub. While it seems unassuming from the outside it is no doubt one of the quirkiest places in the bay area. It is the homeliest of bars. Take your living room, add a few taps, and some fresh cut tobacco and you have the pub. It used to be a place where connoisseurs of tobacco varieties and beer goodness, could congregate and be merry. And they could do it all inside, from the comfort of their own comfy chair. This is one of the few places I wish you could smoke indoors, I don't smoke but it is really the essence of this place. Though they have managed just fine with the whole smoking outside thing. Their patio is by far my favorite in the area. The pub is a celebration of all things adults enjoy (tobacco, beer, news, legos).


The Pub is a meeting place for long nights ahead, a place where one may write a novel, or begin a novel exploration of libations of the world. If that makes any sense at all (which it doesn't). The pub is my favorite place mostly because of the creaky wood floors, the door which does not shut, and the smell.

Oh the smell!!

Fine tobacco and rustic wood, mixed with old upholstery never smelled better. The couches and chairs are straight from 1970, like something my great grandmother handed down to me for use in my first apartment. Yet the smell of fresh smoking leaves wafts into your nose and leaves you dumbfounded. After a pint and a healthy sit in one of their comfy chairs, you will see what I am talking about. The pub is one of those places not easily replaced, nor found anywhere else than in Albany, California. It is a celebration of all things adult. Much like Toys R' Us is a celebration of all things childlike! Though the pub is much less corporate, and a whole lot more tasty.

My goodness, My Guinness!!

Never have I felt more at home than I have at The Pub. It really is a gem of the Bay Area, and the best part is that no one really knows about it. Most would say it is a boring bar (though it pushes the meaning of "bar" to it's limit). Yet in all my times I have been here, I have not once found it boring, there is too much soul for it to be boring. And too much good beer...

Weekly Blatant Filler Beer Review (WBFBR)!

Mighty Arrow Pale Ale.

This beer is inspired by a dog.

A beer inspired by a dog. I can think of nothing greater than that. My love for dogs is immense. I would have one right now if only I knew where I would be tonight and tomorrow morning. Not that I party that hard, it's just tough to know where I'll be regardless of the state of my inebriation. And with such a love for dogs I feel bad if I'm not able to be around for them.

"This is our brewed tribute to Arrow, Kim's Aussie/border collie mix who ran (literally) New Belgium for 12 years. When she wasn't patrolling the brewery grounds, she was famous for her office visits: She never met a tummy rub she didn't like. Atta girl Arrow."

Atta girl Arrow for sure. Regardless of taste, look, smell, this beer is a great one purely because it is dedicated to a dog. I guess I am easy that way, involve a bike and I like you, involve a dog and I will bow at your feet.

One day I will have a dog like Arrow. Perhaps when that day comes I will live in Fort Collins. That way I can be close to New Belgium Brewing (though I used to live here, which is close), because as far as I'm concerned they are the greatest brewery in the states. Bikes or no bikes, dogs or no dogs.

The Rite Spot

Rite Spot...Rong Thyme

Of all the bars in the bay area, this one holds the softest soft part of my heart. Not only is it mellow with good people and good music, but every Friday they have pie. And not just any pie, GOOD pie! The above picture was taken of a napkin drawing that a group of us did (I actually had no part in the drawing because I can't draw at all). It was for a friends going away party in which we did a pie crawl. Four different pie joints were visited, culminating in a trip to the Rite Spot.

Outside one of the raddest neon signs around marks the spot, with a handy little arrow. Inside the walls are adorned with an ever changing art show. This particular night had photos from many live shows in the area.

It was good to be back here, and it was good to see a real bar bathroom. Cramped, raw, graffiti everywhere, it was great.

All in all it was a great trip, mission bars are the best. They are the most random places you'll ever find, exactly what i'm looking for!

Weekly Blatant Filler

Originally uploaded by ohhhhhlisa

The ubiquitous graffiti in the bathroom is one thing I love most about the inebriated piss. I mean, have you read some of the stuff people write!? It truely is amazing. Generally I believe most diatribes on bathroom walls are the stuff that late night drunk dials are made off. Though I feel what is written on the walls is a distilled version, call it "Everclear" if you want. My favorite about this photo, just above the toilet is a pretty good drawing with the caption, "vag 4 life." Makes me chuckle every time...

A Monday Recollection of times Unrecollectable

I don't believe that is a word. Good thing too because it is hard to say. Anyway, Friday saw me out in the Mission. A place of the diviest bars, the dankest of bathrooms, and the raddest of places. Unfortunately I ended up here:


I shouldn't hate too much, it was a good time. I love paying 8 bucks for gin and tonic. Yet again I found myself at a trendy place, with sports playing on flat screens. This time it was UFC. Which when thinking about it is pretty much the worst thing to have playing while a bunch of men are hanging out getting drunk. Actions like this could insight a riot.

The one bright spot was that I got to flex my camera ninja skills.

Photographic evidence of ninja skills.

I mentioned in my first post, that i would try not to take pictures of bathrooms with people in them. Well I already failed (where's waldo?). But after seeing a steady stream of people going in and out, not to mention the line I waited in just to get to this point, I knew I had to seize the opportunity. My biggest disappointment of the night was this room right here. It was so clean! I had at least hoped for some random scribblings. Nope, it was pristine. So boring, much like the bar itself. I'm going to have to search out those seedy underbelly bars for some good stuff to write about...

Its Friday night, you know what that means...

time for whiskey.




Tonight San Francisco calls me. More specifically the Mission. With camera in tow I will forge ahead into the unknown...

It's time for a beer review

Because it is what gets us from here to there. I don't consider myself a beer snob, I just happen to like good beer. But for the most part, I will drink anything. Lately however, I have been getting into that strong stuff. Give me your IPA, Double IPA, and even those beers with the cork and extra yeast on the bottom. Sure it is more expensive, but in most cases it is more bang for your buck!

I originally went on a mission to find a bottle of this stuff:

Stone Brewing's Double Bastard Ale. I bought it on a whim a couple months ago and it seriously blew my mind. Of all the tasty beverages I have consumed over the years, this has been the tastiest. So when thinking of doing a beer review, I could think of none other than this beer to kick it off. Unfortunately it isn't available right now. Though according to this, it will be available again in November of this year. Awesome! Only 9 months to go (might as well have a baby)! You know I'll be eagerly awaiting it's return to my life. After searching every inch of a quite extensive beer section, I realized it was not meant to be. Meandering around, depressed and not knowing what to do, I finally spied an interesting thing. Canned IPA.

21'st Amendment IPA
(though I don't condone beating anybody)

I tell ya, it brought a tear to my eye as I scooped it up and proceeded to ride up the hill to my humble abode. I made it in record 6 pack time, no doubt due to the weight savings of aluminum rather than glass!

But would it taste good? Why hell yes it would!! It's freaking IPA! It was a crisp starter, with mild bitterness for an IPA. It was smooth, and had hints of chocolate and coffee. In fact it just tasted smooth, like butter. And if you know me, you know I like butter. After having a couple cans of it, a sweet fuzzy feeling swept over me. Yes it was a buzz coming on, but after two beers!? This is when I checked the alcohol percentage, sure enough 7%. Like I said, more bang for your buck!

It looks like the new thing is craft beer in a can. And while I have had Fat Tire in a can, I haven't experienced a put hair on your chest type beer in a can. Until now. You can bet I'll have my eyes peeled for the next one. And I'll be hanging on the edge of my seat until my good friend Double Bastard shows up on store shelves again. Until then, keep it in a can?

Weekly Photo (a.k.a. blatant filler)

originally uploaded by bhaggs.

We've all been there, the darkest, dankest bathroom, covered in graffiti. It smells like piss and for some reason the floor is wet. You try to check your hair in the mirror, but it is useless. The mirror has long since been covered. It is about this time that you realize what kind of bar your in, and checking your hair really isn't needed. So you try not to touch anything while you do your business, wash your hands twice, and return to the fray for more libations.

This weeks photo comes from a guy who has a much better photographic eye than I do, bhaggs on flickr.