Smash Putt

WHO: your sloppy drunk little putt putt self

WHAT: MASH SPUTT. I mean SPLASH SMUT. agh &%#!!? SMASH PUTT. gimme another beer.

WHEN: It's over, you missed it! Next year. Every spring, for nine weeks or so.

WHERE: Who knows! In the past it's usually been in various warehouses in SODO.

WHY: 'Cause, sometimes you need to gather your friends and drink A LOT of beerce in little plastic cups and (*hic*) maybe a few shots (you know the night is going downhill when you inquire about the well tequila selection) and swing around a putt putt golf club in a giant old warehouse with like 200 people and awesome music and this weird imaginative disneyland-meets-hipsterland golf course and WAIT DID I MENTION THAT ITS DRUNK PUTT PUTT GOLFING?! I mean, why do I even need to explain this?

HINT: I'm still (*hic*) drunk. Reserve a VIP room (how you know you're totes a putt putt baller), cram like 15 friends in, take a lot of photos of your co-worker passed out (AT PUTT PUTT GOLF, YES) and get a lil' crunk juice. Hey, it's only once a year.

I give it:

/ 10

EIGHT OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

....And we're back. Again.

Hey guys. I promised more updates. And then I sorta fell off the face of the earth. Whoops. Anyways, here's a little bit of what I have been doing lately, with reviews to come in the coming days and weeks (I pinky swear!)

...Basically in that order. Yep.

Randy's Restaurant

WHO: your classic old school diner cravin' self

WHAT: Randy's (aka: Renay's, because the 'D' in the sign is sort of broken. I like to think of Renay's as the late nite, drag-queen alter ego of Randy's)

WHEN: ALWAYS OPEN.

WHERE: Oh god, I'm in Tukwila. Just close your eyes and pretend its not happening. 10016 E Marginal Way S. Take exit 158 toward E Marginal Way.

WHY: Because sometimes, its New Year's Day, and you wake up in a gaggle of gays (aka your best friends) with your tube dress hiked up around your waist, a noisemaker lodged up your nose (could be worse), some unexplained bruises and you got a serious case of the CANKLES. So forget trying to get your shoes back on your feet (the cankles will not allow it), slip into your friend's shower flip flops and don't even attempt to look in a mirror. It is time to seek a higher power: Randy/Renay's worship-worthy piles of bacon and pancakes and ice cream shakes (Yes, for breakfast) will make your transgressions seemingly float away.

HINT: I haven't even mentioned the glorious surroundings in this time capsule of a diner. Enter in and prepare to succumb to the awe-inspiring pink-and-orange flower power booths and bow down to the timeless regulars sipping their black coffee before heading in to their graveyard shift at Boeing. If you are truly blessed, you might even have the owner's wife and her beehive bouffant lift you out of the mire of your hungover state. Randy's is diner salvation. And sweet baby Jesus, the CHICKEN FRIED STEAK. Let the healing begin.

I give it:

/ 10

NINE OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

*Photo courtesy of Randy's Restaurant website.

MILWAUKEE EDITION: Northern Chocolate Company

WHO: your secret chocolate loving self
WHAT: Northern Chocolate Company, aka 'The Chocolate Nazi.'
WHEN: opens at noon most days, mid afternoon is usually the best time. Ring the bell before entering. Then remove your shoes. Not even joking.
WHERE: 2036 N Dr Martin Luther King Dr. Just south of North Ave, sort of west of the east side. (Still not even joking.)
WHY: Because its chocolate, but not just any chocolate. Its like secret chocolate, and its like this totally mind-boggling mind game to even get to the chocolate. First of all, you have to find the shop, which, as I pointed out above, is a puzzle in itself. Then you have the front door. Ring the bell, wait. Perhaps the proprietor will come, maybe he won't. He might peek out the curtains and decide that you are too young or too old or maybe your shoes are too brightly colored for his liking or perhaps your hat is just stupid looking. Anyways, if he opens the door, it becomes like this bizarre Japanese tea ceremony. You pause, make a motion of removing your shoes, and he will bark at you to remove your shoes. You step inside and he will let you know that you cannot touch the chocolate, smell it, stand too close to it or breathe on it. He will be engaged with a trio of husky tourists from Montana or a sweaty business man or a young couple decked out in UWM wear who look absolutely terrified and clearly want to leave the shop but he is blocking the door. And then it is your turn. A word of caution: NEVER step up to the counter until he invites you up. Don't hold the chocolate in your clammy, nervous hands. Just politely mill about the shop until his Chocolate Highness summons you to the register.

HINT: Once you are in the presence the man who has been nicknamed the 'Chocolate Nazi,' you will realize why you came here. He knows his stuff, loves his trade (and his cats, DO ask about his cats), and has a wealth of interesting knowledge from his many travels. You might end up spending a good hour or two chatting with him and he might even through a few extra chocolates in your bag and high five you as you're leaving the shop.

I give it:

/ 10

EIGHT OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

*photo courtesy of JSOnline.com.

CHICAGO EDITION: Cozy Corner Diner & Pancake

WHO: Your inner Midwestern
WHAT: Cozy Corner Diner & Pancake
WHEN: 5am-6pm. Early morning, after a rough red-eye flight, or afternoon after a rough hangover.
WHERE: 2294 North Milwaukee Ave. Logan Square, Chicago, IL
WHY: Because you live in WHITELANDIA, home of boutique bistros with names like "SPOON" or "VASE" and the heartiest dish you can order is usually something involving a dainty square of sauteed tofu or half a quail egg cracked onto a sprig of watercress. And you're sick of it. So you fly to the Midwest, walk into the first diner you see and order one of EVERYTHING. Buttermilk pancakes (yes, there are more than one) piled so high that you can't see over the top. Mounds of butter and syrup and ham steaks that literally bring a tear of joy to your eye. And diner coffee. Delicious, non-descript black coffee that is constantly being topped off by friendly waitresses in stained aprons. This is the Midwest.

I give it:

/ 10

SIX OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

*(photo courtesy of Cozy Corner's website)

The Three Day Weekend Guide to Seeing Everything There is To See in New York City

So, I am working on a handy little guide to all the best hole-in-the-wall, beerNshot and sammie spots in NYC and Brooklyn. It will be arranged by neighborhood/subway stops and categorized by the usual labels such as "GAYS N STUFF" and "effin kids." So, basically, it will a hot mess. I recently tested it out on a co-worker who went to New York, and she said (and I quote), "I didn't really go to any of the places on your list but I did get lost in the ghetto and feared for my life. So, thanks."

Success.

More soon.

MISSOULA EDITION: Dino Cafe

WHO: Your inner mountain man/woman
WHAT: Dinosaur Cafe, in the back of Charlie's bar in Missoula, Montana
WHEN: Any time, but late afternoon is especially nice.
WHERE: 428 North Higgins Ave, "downtown" Missoula
WHY: Because sometimes, you wake up in Missoula, Montana, covered in bruises and blood, and you wonder what in God's name happened to you. And then you remember what happened. You and your boyfriend drove all the way from Seattle to Missoula in the middle of the summer in a tiny unairconditioned pick up truck, where you met up with friends, had a few too many, rode your bikes around town wasted at three in the morning, where you crashed your bike and possibly ran over your boyfriend with your bike. And now everything hurts. And your boyfriend has tire marks all over his body for some reason. And you both need a delicious, delicious sandwich to make it all better. And that's where Dino Cafe comes in. Head to the sketchiest bar (Charlie's) in town, walk all the way to the back and experience the magical healing powers of a pile of curly fries and a BBQ pulled pork po' boy. YES.

HINT: Get it to go, head back to your friends' house, crack open a cold Big Sky Brew, eat your delicious, delicious sandwich and watch the sunset. Perfect.

I give it:

/ 10

SEVEN OUT OF TEN HAPPY BRUCE FACES

*(photo courtesy of Dino Cafe's myspace page)