I know it’s a little against the spirit of these things, but the last two weeks I have been reviewing my favorite bars instead of trying new places to get my shit right and liquored. But, to us drunks, our watering holes are like our teams; we are with them thick and thin. I would call my favorite bar a member of my family, but that would mean I wouldn’t call them back and hate their kids.
So, I find myself sitting in one of the better Gin Joints in LA, THE IRISH TIMES. This West LA suds guzzler is both neighborhood bar and hip yet not too trendy pad where you can belly up to the bar and pound Guinness after Guinness while bullshitting with the locals or jam out to some cover band that sounds like a less annoying version of The Cranberries. The food is, well, it’s Irish food. Irish food is the fat chick of the culinary world. They both get the job done but nobody, with the exception of Lou, is really happy with themselves when the deal is done.

On the subject of chicks, the lasses at The Times could be better. The servers are beer buzz hot at best and not once have I thought I had a chance with them. (Big no no for this kind of bar). What this place lacks in dining and ass, it more then makes up for in Sorry Drunkenness charm. Like each of us, it is flawed, AND WHO THE FUCK ARE WE TO JUDGE?
RANK: 7 – Would have been higher, but my Guinness was poured wrong by the hunchback cretin that served… Damn, that forth Guinness will get you pissed. No wonder the Irish aren’t known as the French.
This is Lazlo saying ERIN GO FUCK YOURSELF
SIDE NOTE: I just saw the sorriest drunkest thing since I saw this guy writing on his blackberry in a bar. Some random just came up to another random that he had not seen in a while and after they said hello, Random 1 says to Random 2, “IT IS MY BIRTHDAY.” IF YOU HAVE TO tell people it is your birthday, then you might be a SorryDrunk.
Sent via Cingular Xpress Mail with Blackberry