First, let’s start with the appetizers… Yummy Grilled Stuffed Jalapeno Chiles with Grilled Red Pepper-Tomato Sauce… MMMMM!  The cheese soothes the jalapeno’s spicy kick and unlike deep-fried jalapeno poppers the first bite will not scorch the roof of your mouth (unless you are impatient).  To help ease the heat, try pairing this delicious appetizer with a Duvel beer.  

Let’s move on to some protein.  What better way to add protein in your diet than Chicken Wings with Red Hot Honey Glaze and Blue Cheese-Celery Dipping Sauce.  The sweetness of the honey glazed wings can be enjoyed alone or dipped in sauce.  Flay prepares the wings on a BBQ grill which adds extra flavor to the savory chicken.  Your Duvel beer works well here, too.  But, if you are looking for something a little different, try a Schloss Eggenberg Urbock 23.   

Lastly, you gotta have MORE meat and potatoes!  Sliders with Chipotle Mayonnaise and Vinegar and Salt Grilled Potatoes!  Yum Yum!   The sliders are tender and moist and the chipotle mayo adds a dash of smokiness to the mini-burgers.  The potatoes are not your typically french fries!  Like salt and vinegar potato chips, they are tangy and crunchy.  Oh, will your mouth tingle!  To add ying to the sliders and potatoes’ yang, try pairing these tasty treats with Dogfish Head Indian Brown Ale.  This beer will stand up to the assortment of flavors in your mouth as the inner Brit in you enjoys your pub-themed party food.   

For more information on Bobby Flay’s Boy Meets Grill pub food, check out Food Network.  

2.  Girls in Bar Clothes.  Honestly, it is not 1999.  Be natural!  Your bar clothes look like a costume from Halloween USA.  And quit pushing your breasts up to your neck!  You look swollen!

3.  Bouncers Who Think They Are THE LAW.  Sit down and shut up!  You are here to make sure that no one gets hurt in case a fight breaks out.  Not to bully people around with your intimidating stare and crossed arms.  And quit making me feel like shit for standing.  There’s no room to move!

4.  Cover Charges.  Really, I have to pay to come into YOUR bar where I will spend money on drinks that YOU marked up 200%?  WTF?  Why?  Aren’t you making enough money on the drinks alone?  I know my cover charge isn’t going to ’pay for the band.’  There is no band!  And your DJ sucks! 

5.  The Smell.  That awful smell that lingers and follows you around until you finally take a shower.  All that smoke and alcohol.  Eeww!  Gross!   And the fact that your coat will smell like stale beer and cigarettes for the next week and a half just about blows.  Why did I bring it in?

1.  I don’t have to drive!  A plus for EVERYONE!

2.  I can actually sit down and enjoy my beer!  No standing around in a smokey bar holding my drink and feeling awkward.

3.  I can snack ALL NIGHT LONG!  Yummy cheese dip and chips!  Yummy cheese and crackers!  Yummy hot wings and celery!  De-li-cious!

4.  I can say outrageous things and no one will try to pick a fight with me (unless, I am really drunk and start to talk about politics and religion with friends and family- A big NO NO!)

5.  I save $$!  And no, I am not investing it in the stock market!  NO!  NO!  NO!

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

(Go ahead, take a few moments and sing the song, it’s okay…) 

Click here to view the embedded video.

With the bass thumpin’ and the lights flashin’, you raise your hands up in the air to praise Mr. DJ.  After all, he’s playin’ your song!  It’s amazing what a little Jesus Juice can do!  Your Lord and Savoir is now a 300 lb. white guy with highlighted tips wearing baggy jeans and a tee- shirt that says, ‘I survived Anorexia.’   

As your jam is spinnin’ through the club, your head is spinnin’ with senselessness.  Any ounce of rhythm you had at the beginning of the night is slowly oozing out as sweat builds up on your forehead.  Left.  Right.  Step.  Step.  Step.  Left.  Right.  Step.  Step.  Step.  You are now in the middle of the dance floor with your arms wide open.  This is now your place of worship to feel the music, hear the gospel, and pray to the hangover gods.

Head roll and all, you sway your hips and close your eyes.  You lift your arms up in the air and curve your body to left.  And now to the right.  Oh, there’s a spin.  You’re creating artwork with your body.  The kind of artwork sold by a starving artist at a Holiday Inn for one day only.  Crafting your moves into seduction, you give the person next to you the Look.  The Look that says, ‘I know, I look good.’  The Look that says, ‘I know, I can move.’  The Look that in your head only is the apple of temptation.

Thankfully, before any evil can prevail, your jam slowly fades into the ‘Closing Time.’  You walk off the dance floor mumbling the lyrics.  Like the song, you hope tonight will be a one-hit wonder and your friends will forget the drinks you spilled on their shoes and the beer goggles you used to find your friend for the night.  Hey, the way you’re looking at it, you’re only taking one for the team like your Lord and Savoir, DJ JC.

It just sounds gross.  But when most of us get a few drinks down, we become a little less pure and a lot more unrefined.  Our mouth becomes our own personal weapon of mass destruction and our mind is held hostage of comprehension.  Verbal vomit spews out uncontrollably.  And phrases like, ‘I love you, man’ and ‘I not trying to be mean, but…,’ start to take a life of their own. 

And then there’s our appearance.  Sadly, we think we’re the cat’s meow.  For women, our make up is non-existent.  We are only left with smeared raccoon eyes and a distorted body image that we think we look like Jessica Biel.  For men, you’re a little sweaty (it’s a little gross) and your shirt is untucked with wrinkles at the bottom.  But dude, you are the captain of the football team!  You own this bar!  

Hey, we are all entitled to let loose after hours, speak gibberish, and look like a beat-up version of Raggedy Anne and Andy.  Right? 

The next day, we try to forget about the things we might have said and done.  Hazy vignettes run through our mind of the night before.  The dirty artist at bar smoking his Lucky Strikes (I think I might have kissed him).  The suburban MILF’s with their mom bellies (I think I freaked one of them on the dance floor).  The couple making out in the corner (Gosh, I wish that was me).  The couple making out in the restroom (Do they not know what STD’s are?).  And the hipster conversation about slogan tees that we tried so hard to ignore, but we couldn’t take it anymore and said some words that were inappropriate to say the least (STFU!).  And the shots.  Oh, the shots…they were going down so smooth… 

Alcohol helps ease the daily friction of life.  With good company, it is the Barry White of beverages.  It helps us bond with the ones we love and slowly get to second base with the ones we want to love.  Alcohol also can be the Sarah Palin of spiked punches.  It can spark a fire of excitement with rehearsed words or embarrass a party with its mindless rambling.  And lastly, alcohol is Rachel Ray of rum and cokes.  In 30 minutes or less, you can either stir up a good buzz and raspy voice or brew a pot of bullshit and annoy the hell out of everyone in the bar.