SorryIGotDrunk » Lazlo Ponders

The Lazlo Ponders Life’s Most Important Questions Series Presents: Just A Backstage Kind Of Lazlo

Lazlo — Fri, 18 Nov 2005 15:20:53 +0000

Sup 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.

The Lazlo Ponders Life’s Most Important Questions Series Presents: The Times They Are A’Irish

Lazlo — Tue, 28 Jun 2005 00:01:43 +0000

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.
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The Lazlo Ponders Life’s Most Important Questions Series Presents: Bean Town Baby

Lazlo — Tue, 21 Jun 2005 09:42:35 +0000

Ah the Beanery. Legendary West Hollywood drinking establishment, Barney’s Beanery is kind of like an old girlfriend of mine, a fucking great time with the possibility the night may result in an arrest of some sort. I have been happily single for the past year or so and in that time I have found myself hanging out at this little gem quite a bit. Hell, in a whiskey induced haze last summer I tried to drag Lou over the patio railing cause he didn’t call me back or some pussy shit like that (I think I was on my man-period or something and Lou was gracious enough to accept my SorryIGotDrunk olive branch of Golden Tee and pitchers at the scene of the crime the next day. Like I said, great fucking time. The decor is straight out of a Hazzard repair garage. Keep in mind this place is in the heart of West Hollywood with bars called SPIKE, TRUNKS and COME GET DICK HERE (ok, I made that last one up) so what is essentially a rough and tumble biker bar (at least the Southern Cali version of one) is a nice change of pace. I will not go so far as to say that I support the sign that used to reside at the entrance pronouncing NO FAGS ALLOWED. People are not “doing drinks” at Barneys, they are tossing back little brain cell assassins quicker then Tom Cruise can take a bride.

But don’t let the dusty facade fool you; she can be a drain on the monitary resourses. On Sunday Lou and I spent close to nine hours in Barney’s, (we take this shit very seriously), and racked well over 250 bucks in beer and Jager (ouch). But if you stick to the pitchers (I think they are 12 bucks or so for Domestic) and stay away from the Jager Bombs (They top out at ten fucking bucks) and you are not a complete fucking alkie like Lou and I then you should be able to get sufficiently fucked up for a decent price. The waitresses are always decent – to – good looking little flirts and they serve food that is essentially the same (what… your food doesn’t flirt with you.)
Overall Rank: 8 – This bar is not without complete fault, but it is always a reliable drunken mess of a good time. If you do happen to make to Barney’s, tell them Lazlo sent ya. You will be tossed out quicker then George W trying to get into a Hamas safe house.
This is Lazlo – God Bless the LAPD and their hatred for paperwork at shift change time on Saturday nights.

The Lazlo Ponders Life’s Most Important Questions Series Presents: Stay Classy Maloney’s

Lazlo — Tue, 14 Jun 2005 11:13:53 +0000

Ah, San Diego, she is a powerful mistress. Living in LA is great, but seeing as I do not drive a Porsche, (more like Prelude), or look like Fabio, (more like Kevin James), women are very tricky to get in this town. Seeing as I have to rely on things other than my Hills pad and a mountain of coke, (1 out of 2 is not bad), I am forced to rely on charm. Sometimes I just do not have the energy to deal with all of the bullshit that comes with trying to date in LA. So that is when I take a trip to our bitchin’ little cousin city to the south, San Diego. San Diego is like the really hot friend of a supermodel who doesn’t get what the big deal is about her friend. And get this; you can talk to girls there without feeling like you should apologize for wasting their time when you are done. Plus most of them are really good looking. I keep thinking back to Eli Manning getting picked by the Chargers in the 2004 draft and then refusing to go there. If I am a 22 year old guy and you want to PAY me millions of dollars to go to some place with hot, cool chicks and great weather year round, I would bypass the post draft interviews quicker then Ricky Williams trying to find a lighter at a reggae festival and head straight for PB Beach Bar and start picking up chicks in bikini tops and sandals.

Anyway, the bar in question this night is a nice little booze puddle that goes by the moniker of Maloney’s. For the record, I think that every college town in America is required to have a bar named Maloney’s. I think the state cuts the Pell Grant funding or something if they don’t have one. Anyway, you go down a set of stairs into a dark and sweaty pit of a bar that just seems to scream ROOFIE ME. The downstairs is packed and kind of sucks when I finally realize there is an upstairs. Towards the back we go up a flight of stairs to a dance floor that is not packed, and with air that actually has oxygen in it. And surprise surprise, more hot chicks. This place is so crazy that my boy Shaggy is dancing with one of the hottest girls I have every scene in person. This doofus could not get ass in Hollywierd if he had a development deal hanging from his neck. I settle in talking to this little hottie named Hailey who tells me within 5 minutes of meeting me that she wants to make out with me. I oblige and I am on her faster then a rich playboy on an unconscious starlet.
All and all, I really enjoyed the Maloney’s San Diego experience. Drinks were stiff and not that expensive. Most of my boys that came down with me from LA got closer to getting ass then they usually do in LA. If I have one complaint, it would just be that nothing about this bar tried to set itself apart from the countless other college type bars that I have been in.
Overall rank: 8, with a little help from Hailey and her Girls.
This is Lazlo saying, HE WHO DIES WITH THE MOST OF HIS LIVER INTACT… LOSES

The Lazlo Ponders Life’s Most Important Questions Series Presents: Stopping Short Of Drunkiness

Lazlo — Thu, 09 Jun 2005 12:59:58 +0000

Take me out to the bar stool
Take me out to the pub
By me a pint of P B R… You get the idea
If you ever head to Dodger Stadium to watch a game or a stabbing or such, you should give yourself a couple of hours and head to THE SHORT STOP on Sunset Blvd. before the game. It is a bar that used to be a cop bar (boooo) and is now a bar for East Hollywood Tattooed Hipsters (yeahhh). Old Laz had mixed feelings about the place when I walked in. But then I saw the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my bloodshot eyes upon. Then the tatted up hottie pouring beers moved to the side and I saw an even more beautiful thing – $1 PINT DRAFTS. You don’t understand, finding $1 drafts in LA makes you feel like Indiana Jones without the hat and whip. I order up a round for my friends (5 bucks) and we nestled in for an afternoon of dinking dirt cheap and trucker hat trendy beer.

Now quick point about the trendiness of all things dirty. Laz has always been a big fan of white trash sheik, but I never called it trendy, I called it home. If you need any proof of that you should look at my exes. All of them in a lineup would be like people that Jerry Springer said no to. But here is the thing, All of the people wearing wife beaters, trucker hats, belt buckles and smoking ultra lights after they get done ordering a $20 dollar salad with no croutons, (god forbid they have a fucking carb), are the same people who were wearing Cross Colors jackets and saying things like “Wack” 5 years ago. They want to see trashy; they should follow Laz to where he cut his proverbial drunken tooth. Down in the deepest of the Southest of the Illinoisest, these dirty posers would not last one lap dance from Peggy, the girl who shoots blood from her nanooch in Carterville, (you have not lived my friends). I would kill to see the smile on the toothless waitress, Bethel, at Billy Jim BBQ Emporium in Murphysboro the first time one of these celebu-savantes asked for a latte with no foam. The tire iron would come out quicker then Michael Jackson’s pecker at a Menudo: The Movie showing. (MJ jokes… cheap yet so effective).
Where the hell was I? Oh yeah, The Short Stop. Fucking cool place for down and dirty drinking with down and dirty folks. You should definitely check out the cubby holes on the walls where the cops used to keep there guns under lock and key. I have often thought if I were every to get a gun I would need to have the same thing at my house so I would not shoot myself on a self-imposed Jager bet. But yeah this place is a down and out good time in the land of velvet rope suck asses.
So for a game or just a night trying to score with a girl whose uncle had a sly hand, try the SHORT STOP (I think I can sell them on that slogan).
OVERALL RANK: 9.5. These people define sorry drunks. To quote one of the greatest movies of all time VARSITY BLUES. “These are my people.”
This is Lazlo saying TAKE ME DRUNK, I AM HOME

The Lazlo Ponders Life’s Most Important Questions Series Presents: Man On A Mission

Lazlo — Wed, 01 Jun 2005 14:45:12 +0000

Monday, May 30, 2005 10:07 AM
So, I guess being hung over is sort of how I am going to start a lot of these things, but today is kind of a special one. I spent last night terrorizing the streets of San Fran with my old drinking buddy K Dog. He was sans wife and I was sans sanity but that write-up will come later. So like the good little brainwashed traveler that I am, I show up really early for my flight and find myself at the Mission Bar with time to spare and brain cells to kill. I tear through 3 bloodys like a man on a mission and decided that this may be the worst airport bar in the history of inebriated travel. The drinks are high on price and low on both booze and flavor and they are served by a bartender named Chen that speaks no English and does not even attempt to rebuff my conversation. Dude’s job consists of getting me high and listening to me ramble while high and he can not do either with any grace. I debate in my head for a while if it is fair to judge a bar by my experience at said bar at 9 AM on a Monday and come to this conclusion:

If a bar can not satisfy 1 person at 9am it has no chance at satisfying the masses at any time..
Overall Rank: 5 – and this is on the sliding airport scale and is somewhat of a gift because I saw the manger say please and thank you to an employee that he was asking to clean up puke that was ejected from some dude who was on his way to Dallas, even for me that is a new one. If you can avoid traveling through San Fran airport I recommend it. It will make even the sorriest of drunks consider sobriety as a lifestyle choice.
This is Lazlo saying, your liver hates you. FUCK HIM.
Coming soon LAZ AND K DOG ATTACK SAN FRAN ……THOUSANDS DEAD, GODZILLA MISSING
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The Lazlo Ponders Life’s Most Important Questions Series Presents: Drinking With The Duke

Lazlo — Tue, 31 May 2005 12:39:47 +0000

Saturday, May 28, 2005 4:06 PM
Airports suck. Hangovers suck. Together, lethal.
The only thing that can improve either of these things is booze. I find myself today at the Orange Bar And Grill at the John Wayne Intl airport. The Duke is somewhat of a hero of mine. Not because of his movies or such, but because he was a man. The kinda man who wasn’t afraid to wave a gun around or threaten an actor who was dating his daughter because he was “A Commie.” He is the kinda guy I try to be when I am sloshed. The difference is I come of like an asshole when the duke comes off like an icon. Something about boots and filling and me not.

So anyway back at the airport, OBAG is not bad for an airport bar. It is kinda empty but Guillermo makes a mean whisky and coke. The bar is a circle bar at the far end of the food court in the AA terminal (I tossed that in so I can say I drank in AA) and the few people that are there look like Prozac Nation housewifes on their way to Palm Springs to spend some of the husbands moola. Drinks are airport prizes which is kinda like getting ass fucked by Bubba in County with Icy Hot for lube (I am trying to say it burns) but like I said they are stiff little buggas and it was either this or Starfucks and I have a rep to keep.
Overall rank: 6 – on the sliding airport scale. This bar would suck ass if it where in your neighborhood but considering it is a place for puddle jumpers to grab a quick mind number on there way out of or into town it is more then adequate.
Well they just called my flight so I gave my new boy Guillermo a pound and head off. It is probably for the best because a few more of these and I may have attempted to join the mile high club by myself. Leaving ORAG, I am slightly less hungover and less irritated about the fact that I am at an airport so my mission is complete.
This is Laz saying, may your glass always be full.
UP NEXT: Laz in the real city of brotherly love.
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The Lazlo Ponders Life’s Most Important Questions Series Presents: Where Should I Get Drunk? Part One

Lazlo — Wed, 25 May 2005 09:41:44 +0000

Where everybody knows your name.
Maybe.
Where you are always glad you came.
Sometimes, but not always.
But the spot that you choose to drink is second only to your choice of drug in the battle against sobriety. Natch, (for the one and only Lou), you want a place that has that right blend of what the French call “Fuck the Americans.” Man do those Froggy bastards have a way with words. My Mom once told me that life is about the journey not the destination. My Dad once told me to “SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DRINK YOUR BEER.” Although my parents have been miserable for years with each other I feel that between these two pearls must be the secret to a happy life.
I, Lazlo, have dedicated my life to the Journey of Drinking. And because location is an important part of said Journey, I will be hitting up wet holes (some people prefer watering holes, I prefer wet) in my area (and yours if you are lucky) and judging them like the little Catholic School girls they are for the benefit of mankind and the detriment to the evil brain cells.

So the spot. Well on most nights I drink alone with the lights off at the Crack House, but seeing as I was a good boy/employee last year, I have a gift certificate for a Swanky Beverly Hill eatery / 70 year old B-celeb hang out, Trader Vic’s, that is burning a hole in my pocket. I decided to treat Lou to some good eats and check out a new place to drink.
FIRST IMPRESSION: Uh, wow there are a lot of Jr. Agents hanging out in the pretty small bar area. Not sure I would feel comfortable hanging out here on a daily basis. I drink too much to be hanging around these assholes.
Give it a 6 because I am feeling giving…..and sober.
SPECIALITIES: Trader Vic’s is supposed to be like a South East Asian watering hole, which is ironic because I think I just saw Charlie Okuma from the Three Stooges complete with the buck teeth and coke bottle glasses serve me a drink, Ah Sank You. The Drink Menu here as about 4 pages long (LAZLO LIKIE) and serves up every kind of mix of rum and fruit you can imagine (insert Bacardi and Ricky Martin Joke here).
Give it an 8.
DRINKS – Wow, where to start. I drank things called Gun Club Punch, Trader Vic’s Sling, Doctor Funk of Tahiti, Tiki Puka Puka, while Lou had such delights as Raffles Bar Gin Sling, Mai Tai, Suffering Bastard, Mohito. They all had couple of things in common. Booze and sweet fruity taste. Now I don’t want to downer here, but Lazlo likes his drinks like his women, bitter and divorced. It was fun for a while and then I realized I was going through a lot and not getting drunk or laid (sorry Lou).

Give it a 6.
GRUB – Well, it is a restaurant and I did have a gift cert. so let’s just say that this is probably the best food of any place I will be drinking in the near future. Me – steak, Lou – fish. Actually that sums us it up pretty good.
Give it an 8.
OVERALL – You ever hear the phrase “It’s got a beat, but you can’t fuck a 12 year old Polynesian prostitute to it?” My sensei used to say that a lot and never have a found it so true. All the fruity drinks in the world can not make up for the fact that this is just not a comfortable place to drink in. Sure it has all of the equipment but it lacks in what Lazlo likes most, Heart. Without the heart pumping blood to our crusted up liver where would we be? Dead or worse yet, sober. And that my friend is no way to go through life.
Give it a 5 for effort.
So until next time this is Lazlo saying
What the fuck are you looking at?