lazlo.jpgSup Booze heads…
So I have not written one of this bar review type things in a while. It was not because I had stopped drinking/died (I always tend to lump these things together) but it is due to the fact that lately I have found myself blind drunk on my coach and not suitable for public consumption. My sincerest apologies/fuck off.
Finding yourself sober in Beverly Hills is a bitch. Hell, finding yourself in Beverly Hills without pitchforks to stab the eyes of the rich is a drag, but I progress. Stu Copland, who managed the Police (kick ass) and Bangles (yicks) owns the downiest outest little bar off of the Rodeo. THE BACKSTAGE CAFE, with its Gold Records and rock paraphernalia lined walls has a pimp/cafe vibe to it which makes it one of the only places I can wet my beak in Beverly Hills that does not make me want to puke on a Botoxed lady wearing a mink.


Bartender Joel ices down a mean Jack and Coke as the bizness men slowly get stoned. I find myself wondering why the hell anyone would choose to work in such a stuffy self important poop hole as Beverly Hills. Then I get depressed because I realize that for the better part of the last 6 years I have spent the sober part of my day at a job in Beverly Hills, a place I loathe. Ok, that is a lie. There is no sober part of my day and I am incapable of loathing. Stumbling forward. The 2nd Jack and Coke is stronger than the first as Joel gives me a wink. Wait… what the fuck! I am a 6 foot 2, 350 pound brat eating guy from the Midwest AKA I neverget hit on by gay dudes. I remind them of the shallow minded fucks that used to beat them up because they were secretly gay themselves. Half of me would like to slap the pole smoker and tell him I am not that kind of Lazlo. The other half wants to wink back to see if I can weasel a free drink out of my new best friend Joel. Four FREE Jack and Cokes I briskly head out of the Backstage where I will never return due to the fact that I am now terrified of Joel’s knowing smile.
This is Lazlo, saying I am way too easy.