Clawing to escape the belly of the beast here in Hollywood. To commiserate, email my name assistantatlas at yahoo.

Saturday, May 14, 2005

Best Bars in LA: Episode 1.36

"Drinking is good for the soul."
-Assistant/Atlas, assuming no one has claimed this quote before

Got hammered and got to talking about bars in LA, cuz Geeky Roommate and I are just so self-referential. All these places constitute ones where I’ve gotten drunken happily. Fun fact about Atlas: In college, I worked at a magazine for which I did nightlife reviews. Having been plied with drinks by promoters the city over, my standards are now a little higher. And please note that I don’t go to bars in the Valley because. . . well, why?

Akbar– Still consistently among the friendliest crowds, but it was better when it was less gay (not because gay people aren’t cool, but because mixed crowds are hotter)
The Arsenal– Among the hottest Westside crowds, go here if you’re looking for single, straight women and men.
Brennan’s– Turtle races every Thursday, but watch out for the LMU kids. Hey God, why do you make your disciples so annoying?
Falcon– Winner of best club design. If you’re gay, go on Tuesday. If you’re straight, bring a date or look really rich on the other nights.
Forty One Hundred Bar– Hang with Silverlake hipsters, but not the annoying ones. Okay, some annoying ones.
Ivar– Their celeb-studded events can kiss my tushie, but they still get some amazing djs from time to time.
Library Alehouse– Chillax with some of the best frosty brews on the Westside.
Miss Kitty’s– The martini sign beckons dubious beauties for an always-interesting time.
O-Bar– They make the list for the crazy white skewer art stuff they have above the bar. What IS that sh*t? And why does it make me so woozy? Or maybe that’s the mojitos.
Parlour Club– Crazy, crazy times to be had here. I’m not citing examples on this one. You’d never respect me again.
The Red Garter– Please don’t come here if you’re wearing a striped shirt. Come for pool, Pac-Man and a Johnny Cash-laden jukebox.
The Standard– The downtown one, only. My roommate’s comment on a recent visit: “I didn’t remember that everyone– and I mean, everyone– was so wasted last time. I’m talking like stumbling, vomiting wasted.” My answer: “You were super-drunk before we got there last time.” Second only to Falcon decor-wise, O-Bar probably taking third.
Star Shoes– I don’t care that it’s cheesy, I made out for a good twenty minutes with a super-hot punk girl here once (we’re talking Angelina in Hackers hot) and they have fun events from time to time.
Tiki Ti– the fact that you can smoke alone makes it worthwhile, but the vibe is better and the drinks [order off the damn menu, you vacuous slutbomb– they don’t serve that silly microbrew you just ordered] give you a sugar buzz to complement your alcohol buzz.

Are there more? I'm probably forgetting some. I know I am. But hey, I'm hungover, what the hell do you want from me, people?


Blogger Peggy Archer said...

When at the Ivar, keep your tushie near the exits at all times.

There is some SERIOUSLY dangerous wiring on those booths (with the flourescent tubes). Every time we shoot there, at least one fire starts because of those things. The psychotic bitch who manages the place just blames us for the damage, and refuses to spend the money to fix them.

The crews that shoot there keep 'dropping dimes' on them, but I think they're paying off the electrical inspector, because it's been at least two years and they're not getting repaired.

9:55 AM


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