Okay, don't get me wrong, I love tipping. I love tips in general, and I've never even worked for them. Although much of my younger life, I was definitely supported by them, since my mom was a bartender from the time I was about 6 onwards to almost the present.

What I don't like about tips at bars is the need to make them blind. What I mean is, if you're paying cash, or as is the case with the 570bars crew, just buying a single round on your card, you pretty much make our your tip before you've got much of an idea about the drink, the bar, or anything involved. So, if the drink is terrible (hello to the Murphy's Gin and Tonic), you'll probably end up tipping just the same, percentage wise, as if it were great (big ups to the 727's G-and-T perfection.)

I know that people who work in tipping fields get taxed as if they were getting tips at something like 8 percent. So I recognize the need to tip that bare minimum at least. And I always feel better if I'm tipping in the neighborhood of 20 percent. But some places, I just want the freedom to tip the low end if the service is terrible, or the drinks are awful. Instead, it's all about tipping heavy at first to bribe them to make you a good drink on the next round, or for the rest of the night.

So now, in general, we've got a new policy. Tip as you leave. Not as you order, not as you pay, but as you leave. That way, the tip reflects your actual satisfaction. And that's what we're going to do from now on. Strong drinks? Tasty drinks? Friendly people? You'll be rewarded. Shitty drinks? Drinks where alcohol is a foreign concept? Surly staff? You'll get your 8 percent, cause you need that, but nothing more. I'm not out to screw anyone. But I'm sick and tired of having to pay to get acceptable, not even extraordinary, service.

Notice this isn't in the Rants section, but rather the Nightlife section. That's because, while the idea of the noisy, drunken, cute college type is rather offensive to many, it's a benefit of college friendly bars to me.

These Abercrombie and Fitch wearing boys, loud and full of certainty in their own place in the world, are the best part of college bars. If I were straight, I'm sure I'd say the same about the bouncy co-eds, but I'm not, so I won't say that. Instead, I'll just praise the fact that the shallowness of society has finally caught up with me, so that there are all these image obsessed guys out there, where once there would have just been blah-looking dorks with girls way cuter than they were who wanted nothing more than to find a better boy, but sadly couldn't. Not a problem any more. The "better" boys, better looking at least, are just about everywhere.

So yes, hurray for shallowness as long as it keeps producing cuties for all of us to look at. And isn't that shallow?

I've passed a milestone. Not a big one, not in the least an important one. But still.

I've heard the strangest bathroom conversation I will ever hear.

I was in the Triangle Tavern, and I'm using the facilities, and the guy at the urinal next to me is making a call. When he finally connects, apparently with a machine or voice mail or something, the following message occurs.

"Fuckin' A, bitch. I'm peeing on the tile floor you laid in the Triangle. It looks like shit. No, it looks fine..."

And he left the bathroom. I don't know where the message went from there. I can only speculate with a vague sense of discomfort, and wonder what the world is coming to.

In the last two weeks we have been to 35 bars on just about every day of the week (except for Sunday night, cause even we need to rest sometime.) I have noticed something very interesting, and that is the character of the places on weeknights vs. weekends.

For myself, I can definitely say, that I have liked the general feel of a place on weeknight way more than I have on a weekend. During the week, these places have a much friendlier crowd of people, are not crowded to the point of insanity and allow you to get a much better feel for the place, the clientele, and the staff. On a weeknight we able to casually stroll in, have a conversation with the bartender, strike up a few unguarded words with the other patrons and generally have a nice drink and get to know a place.

On the weekend though, it is a totally different situation. The bars are usually crowded to the point of bursting, the staff is too busy to talk to you (unless it is still early), and the other patrons all have that either wary or predatorial look in their eye. You can always tell who the scoping guys are (I am usually one) and who the wary women are. I can definitely say, that guys, you are going to have a lot more luck picking up women in a bar on a weeknight than on a weekend, unless you are a total dawg, or she is looking for some action and you are cute or close.

I am finding that each of these bars has something to offer you, you just have to know what you are looking for and then target the right place. This is also heavily modified by when you go, and that is the whole point of this little mention. If you are looking to meet people on a more personal level, find the place that has your crowd and then go on a weeknight. If you are looking for a hard pumping bar scene, find your crowd and go on a weekend.

-w00t

When we walked into the Stirrup Room, I knew that there was going to be a band playing that evening. I wasn’t sure how soon, but I almost regret being there when the house band starts. They sometimes don’t suck, but usually, well, you know. Especially when there is no cover, and I can’t imagine the Stirrup Room EVER charging a cover.

Having never been in this bar before it took me a little while to figure out that the Giant Tie-Die wall hangings, lava lamps, etc … were not part of the normal décor. I did notice the drum set wedged in a corner and the two guitars on the stage, but once again, I missed the bands name.

After we had sat down, Jason caught sight of the bands name and pointed it out to me. It finally made sense.

Groovestock is three guys, all of who can sing. This surprised me greatly. They did covers exclusively (from the three songs that we heard) and they were also funny. The lead singer commented on how the M’s game was distracting him cause every time we cheered, he would bend down to see the TV in front of him a little better.

If we didn’t have things to do and places to be, I would have liked to stay and listen to their set. I knew we were going to get heckled when we left because they heckled a group who was leaving by saying, “Hey, we didn’t leave when you started drinking. Why are you leaving when we started playing.”

Wolf couldn’t help but defend himself, while Jason and I were safe ensconced outside. They didn’t seem to believe that we were on a quest. But really, who would.

-wOOt

After our trip to Bad Juju/the Vogue/Barca, we decided to stop in to a bar we really liked, but mostly to see a bartender who was great. Florence at the Wildrose had been very friendly the first time through, and we didn't have our cards yet, so she hadn't gotten one. Now we had them, so we were going to stop in for a few minutes and give her one.

She recognized us when we called her name from the bar, and we told her (mistakenly as it turned out) that it had been three weeks. It was really four, but the days just blur together. We gave her the card, and chatted for a minute, and when we explained it was too expensive to have a drink, she offered us one anyway. And good stuff. For all the vodka drinkers who might peruse this, I highly recommend Rasberry vodka in your vodka cran, cause it's delightful.

And so is Florence. She's a good bartender, because she keeps track of people, she knows the crowd, she's funny and intelligent and cute. She'll spin amusing lies when she doesn't want to tell the truth, and even more amusing truths when she wants to. While we would have sat with her all night, I think, cause she's that great a person, the Wildrose was closing up at 1 that night, so we had to move on.

During the greatest hits tour, I'm certainly going back. What's the greatest hits tour, you ask? Read on...

After leaving Barça, Jason and I decided we needed to head over to the Wild Rose for our first re-drink.

Anyhow, we walked in and I had trouble-spotting Florence (one of our favorite bartenders.) She had her back to us, and while I recognized the color of her hair, I think she had gotten a hair cut since we had last been here. We sat down behind her and waited for her to get off of the phone. Then Jason spoke up, “Hey Florence.” She turned and looked at us. Blinked for a second and then replied, “So how goes the quest boys.”

We talked with Florence for a while and she offered to comp us. I feel so special. She even used top shelf: Tanqueray for me, and Raspberry Stoli for Jason.

I wish I could tell you about some of the stories that Florence shared, but I am not allowed to. They were pretty funny though. I would love it if Florence would come out with us some time. Not only is she a great woman, but she is damn attractive too.

Oh, there is one thing that happened that was pretty funny. As the bar is closing up at 1:00 AM a cab shows up for this one girl. Florence tries to get the girls attention but she fails. Instead of yelling, Florence just reaches under the bar and grabs a mini bullhorn. Putting it to her she presses and trigger and announces, “Your cab is here.” The girl looks up from her conversation and smiles. Thanks Florence and hurries out the door.

Jason and I wanted to stay, but we decided that they were closing and we should try to hit the Tin Hat so that we could give Mia her card. When we got there, Mia had already left for the evening. We will try again on Thursday.

-wOOt

If you are reading this, and you happen to be, or happen to know Cotton, who used to work at the El Camino, then we would be immensely happy if you would contact us. I was just at the El Camino and they had no idea how to make Camino Juice. We would very much like the recipe as we enjoyed the drink a lot.

Oh and Cotton, congrats on the new job. How does a guy get a job writing the backs for baseball cards, anyhow?

Oh, if you like, you could also just post the recipe here for all twelve of our loyal readers.

-wOOt

Saturday we're leaving a party after being at the Excalibur/Dante's/the College Inn Pub, and there's this guy taking a picture of these dead-looking trees.

For some reason, keep in mind I'm not near to sober, I walked up to him and asked him some question about his photo. Something about the trees being dead. He said they weren't dead. I said something about them just being seriously pruned, that he was right. And while I was saying that, he took his picture, and then, very quickly, grabbed up his camera with tripod and hurried away.

Am I a scary drunk?

I guess I must be. But then, it was 47th and 11th, at midnight, so anyone would be...

(Compliments of Davi'd at Bad Albert's)

Didgeridoo Poker has some very basic rules. You and at least one other person pick a random group of people. Then you bet on how may people in that group know what a Didgeridoo is. Basically you say, "I'll bet you that 3 of those 5 people know what a Didgeridoo is." Guess right and you take the pot.

Now there are lots of variations on this game I imagine (in terms of how betting goes) but the basics always stand.

Now for our group of four, Davi'd guessed two, but was wrong as all four of us knew what one was (heck I even tried and failed horribly to play one.)

-wOOt

Perhaps it is a little early to believe that I have even the most basic grasp on how to get comped drinks. We have a couple of early successes and all of a sudden it is like we are "the drink masters." Now I will definitely say that this is not the case, but we have noticed a couple of things.

1) Upscale Bartender's have a lot more leeway (generally) than average or working class bartenders to comp drinks. Because these bartenders's are dealing with a higher class of patron and generally much higher sums of money they have a free-er hand in making the patrons feel welcome and well disposed to their establishment.

2) Be interested and interesting - Don't be lump on a log and think that by saying hi to the bartender he will sling you a free drink. We were at the Waterfront (not posted just yet) and we were "comped" about a third of shot (maybe) of $18 a shot rum. We were interested in their rum selection and noticed this particular $200 shot they had on the menu. We talked to the bartender for at least a good ten minutes about various things (our quest, the history of rum, etc ...) and then he poured a "taste" to demonstrate how amazing good rum can be (and it was amazing.)

3) Go when it is slow - If you go when it is hoping (unless you are a tried and true regular) then the bartender will have no time to chat with you and realize that you deserve free stuff. Bored bartenders like to be entertained and if you can keep their attention for ten to twenty minutes, you may just find yourself mysteriously comped.

4) Tip well - Sure you just scored free stuff, but whenever you are comped, you better tip the bartender well. Perhaps even to the level of what he comped you. If you don't, don't ever expect to get comped by that bartender again. At one place, we got comped a total of 3 drinks, and then were charged a reduced price on the drinks themselves. The $25 bar tab (minimum) came up as $10.50 when it was laid in front of us. I dropped a $9.50 tip on that to an even twenty and came out at $5 up (probably more since the comped drink did not taste like well.)

So remember, they are just people who happen to have the ability to give away free drinks. Entertain them and they will pay you in booze. Piss them off and you will be drinking tonic.

-wOOt

We visited the Benbow way back on April 26. Only a month and a half ago, and I thought I'd get a chance to go back. I really wanted to take Vince there, to see the piratical goodness of the place.

Sadly, that won't be possible. The bar closed on June 1st, after three quarters of a century of operation.

I was only there once, but never being able to go back is kind of sad even to me. I can imagine how depressing this is to people who've been going there years, or their whole drinking lives.

Bar Number 75, we hardly knew you...

So as Jason and I were leaving Mes Amis (sp?) on Capitol Hill, we walked buy 3 guys wearing Mexican Wrestler masks and one guy wearing a ninja outfit. They were all big guys and seemed to having a good time. Jason and I just shrugged and got into my car. I must admit that it was one of the more bizarre things I had seen in some time.

The next morning I am talking to Jesse, my coworker, who says, "So Wolf was at Marcus' last night and there were 3 Lucidores there."

"Yeah," I replied "and they had a ninja with them as well." Jesse was bummed that I was not in the least surprised. I guess that the 3 Lucidores and El Ninjito (their Ninja Wrestling brother) had been at Marcus' two hours before we saw them (down in Pioneer square.)

Life's little quirks.

-wOOt

Let the historians write of that great day July 26th, when the 570 questers hit a new record of 8 bars in a single night, ranging for the chain-restaurant goodness of Azteca, to the dive-alicious terror of Dawg Tagz to the tasty quality of House of Pizza and the candy-like pleasure of Kangaroo and Kiwi.

It was a day of other special joys, from the passage of the 1/3 point at Dawg Tagz, to the first appearance of Danielle on our sponsors list, after her long association with us dating back to Fado, bar 26.

Also, Clarkie managed to run the gauntlet of all 8 bars, only giving me the last portion of his last drink as he gave up in despair in the K & K.

A good night in every sense.

Hey All,

I am pleased to announce that the time has finally come. The 570 Bars crew is going to brave Pioneer Square Joint Cover Clubs (8 in all) for a night of drunken debauchery. We will harass women in short skirts, get in fights with guys wearing Rugby Shirts from Old Navy (who are also wearing their hats backward), and maybe even have a good time.

We understand if you don't drink at all 8 with us, but the trip should be fun. We also recommend that you cab (or bus) on down, as I plan to be way to drunk to drive and I hope you all will be too.

The big feature of this night is that we will be going with Scott and Melody (who some of you may know) as the amazing sponsors from the Night of Dives. They still have some juice in Pioneer Square and we plan to squeeze them dry (in a good way, I swear.)

We will meet in front of the Totem Pole in Pioneer Square at 9 PM sharp. If you don't know what we look like, check out the about page. We hope to see all of you there.

Also if you are definitely going to show, drop me a line at brandon@570bars.com to let me know, and we will keep an eye out for you.

-wOOt

There's a guy. He works, we're told, for a distribution company. He comes out and looks at your bar, after you've signed up with them, and he sees your drink specials. He sees the colors of your bar. And a bit later, a chalkboard shows up with a few specialty drinks listed on it, beautifully designed and put together.

He's an artist, this guy. And it's free to the bars, because the distributor pays for him.

We see his stuff all over. He's at Elliott's. He's at the Crowne Plaza Hotel. He's at the friggin' Acorn of all the fucked-up places. People even try to imitate him, but never with the same style.

We must meet this guy. I'm sure (or at least I'm afraid that) there's nothing remarkable about him at all. He's fat and boring and old and stupid, or something like that. All we know about him is that he's a guy. He could be someone we know, even.

We're looking for the chalkboard guy, though. We're looking, and we will find him.

It is Wednesday Night (8-21-02) and Jason and I have just dropped off Mel at about 1:00 AM. I am driving Jason home and I make a left turn when I should have gone straight. This little street ends in an opening but says do not enter. It is late, so fuck it. We turn right and end up on the street we want to be. We are sitting at a red light facing a one-way street that will take us either onto the highway or onto 85th. At the edge of my vision I notice something, but it doesn’t compute (since it is 1:00 AM and I have had a few drinks.) They are flashing lights and they are getting closer. This in of itself is not the disturbing part. The problem is, is that they headed DIRECTLY for me. I look up at the light to make sure I am in the right place and I am. Yet the lights are still approaching.

Did the cop see me make the illegal right turn and decide to harass me over it? Is there some big emergency that he is rushing to? Did he just decide that it was 1 AM and he wanted to go the wrong way up the on ramp from I-5. Who can say?

All I know, is that while sitting there staring at the lights, he approached on a collision course. Shifting into Reverse, I prepared for evasive maneuvers. The cop screeched to a halt in the middle of the intersection, made sure that he could turn, then turned and immediately switched off his lights.

Jason and I just stared at each other in horror. The light changed and I went forward towards 85th. About 30 seconds later I turned to Jason and said “Are you still freaked out?” “Yup.” My heart was still pounding. My breath caught in my throat and slowly the edge of frenzy slid off of my mind.

Totally freaky.

-wOOt

So Bridgit has this thing about hot cream cheese. I will admit that it is really good. Being a jew, there are few things that I like more than cream cheese. It is the fact though that every time we walk past a sausage vendor, Bridgit has to get some hot cream cheese.

It is kind of funny, but I don’t think anyone else could get away with it. She is a hot blonde and when a hot blonde walks up and asks sweetly for some hot cream cheese how could they refuse. Ryan, the Pike St. Sausage Guy didn’t and neither did the vendor outside of the Bohemian.

I guess the big plus is that I get to lick the cream cheese off of her fingers. Jason does to, but at least I get to enjoy it more.

-wOOt

Tonight we had our 6 month anniversary and halfway bar run. We did the Lake Union Run (7 bars within about 2 blocks of each other, or so we thought.) The group consisted of regulars and several first timers. It was Jason and I, Wolf, Sean, Clarkie, Clara, Trevor, and our two first timers: Julie and Kyle. We have known them for ages, but this is the first time that they have been out with us. Bridgit and Melody both showed up at later bars (Bridgit at Cucina Cucina, and Melody at Chandlers.)

Anyhow, Julie called dibs on doing all or most of the sponsorships for this evening since she hadn’t been out with us and we don’t when the next occurrence will be. Now a little history needs to be laid down. First off, there is my friend Glen. Glen gives us $10 a week for a bar and thus had a good number and growing. But he is totally beatable as he only does one bar a week. The next biggest sponsor for the longest time is Wolf. Wolf is absolutely the man as he takes us out, treats us right, and knows the truth of the might of Planter’s Gold. The newest contender is Bridgit. Bridgit, briefly surpassed Wolf in her number of sponsorships. She has been going out after work with us and has been picking up a bunch of sponsorships while we went out. Wolf says that he in unconcerned about Bridgit but I can see the concern in his eyes.

And so the scene is set for the evening. As we progressed from bar to bar there was much smack talk amongst the would-be sponsors. Wolf had graciously stepped aside in favor of Julie (who was, I believe, buying his drink as well.) Of course, Julie has no bars, so what threat is she to his reign. But then the moment came when Bridgit announced that she already had “dibs” on T.G.I.Friday. Which she did, in fact have dibs on, from our night out at the Pink Door when she listed a bunch of places that she wanted. Thus, Wolf knew that he had to pick up another one as well so that they could once again be even. I might be wrong on this, Bridgit might still be one up on him, but I am not sure at the moment.

The night progressed. Julie picked up Daniel’s Broiler, Cucina Cucina, Chandler’s Crab House, and the Blu Water Bistro. Wolf snuck in with a pickup of Duke’s Chowder House and Bridgit picked up T.G.I.Friday’s which I do believe put her one up on Wolf again. And then there was only one bar left: Bar 285. Julie had negotiated with “people” and had earned the right of picking up bar 285 as the crowning achievement of the night.

Now while I would like to get into the maddening, annoying, painful wackiness involved in getting to bar 285, I will simply say that I will do a separate post on it as it has nothing to do with this. So we eventually decided on the Lobo Saloon & Café. It is not far but we will have to drive. Thus Jason, Clarkie, Trevor, Clara and I all pile into my car and drive up to Lobo. We get there, but we are the first ones there (I believe.) I sit down at the bar and Jason is to one side and Clarkie is to the other. The other still has not quite shown up.

Then all of a sudden, something happened, something unexpected. Something so sneaky and underhanded that I can do nothing but applaud it. A drink appears and Clarkie hands it to me and says, “Bar 285 is mine.” A truly magnificent maneuver as who I am to refuse a drink that is handed to me. A swoop of epic proportions. A risky maneuver since Julie said she would “kill” anyone who tried to take her sponsorship. He still lives, but he has made a powerful enemy.

I raise my glass to all of our wonderful sponsors and say, “Thank you. Without you, this quest would not be possible. Thank you for making our nights fun and drinking less expensive.”

-wOOt

It was asked for, so I figured, what the hell. Our standard drinks are up top, but some other "favorites" are below them.

Gin & Tonic
Qty. Ingredients
2 oz. Gin (Preferabbly Bombay Saphirre or Tanqueray)
Fill Tonic Water

Glass type: Highball

Directions: Pour gin into Highball glass with ice. Fill with the tonic water. Use lime to garnish.

Vodka Cran

Qty. Ingredients
2 oz. Vodka (Preferrably Stoli or Absolut)
Fill Cranberry

Glass type: Highball

Directions: Pour gin into Highball glass with ice. Fill with the tonic water. Use lime to garnish.

Camino Juice

-I don’t know the recipe, you would need to get it from Cotton, formerly of the El Camino.

Red Headed Slut

Qty. Ingredients
1/2 oz. Southern Comfort
1/2 oz. Jagamister
2 oz. Cranberry juice

Glass type: Shot

Directions: Shake with ice and strain into shot glass.

Toe Warmer

-I don’t know the recipe, you would have to get it from Benjamin of Temple Billiards

Surfer on Acid

Qty. Ingredients
1 1/2 oz. Jagermeister
1 oz. Rum
1 splash Pineapple Juice

Glass type: Old Fashioned

Directions: Shake with ice and starin into a rocks/old fashioned glass. Add ice if you wish.

All recipes listed here are from www.bardrinks.com

(Artistic license has been used to substitute for lack of specific memory)

Walking into the Ristorante Salute, Jason and I were immediately greeted by the slightly glazed but inquisitive look of a woman sitting at the small four seat bar. She sat there, straight back, left hand languidly laid palm up with a long brown Sherman’s cigarette settled between her fingers. Her right hand resting on the bar, a half full glass of deep red wine within easy reach. Dressed in nice, but not too nice business wear, she was probably in her 40’s with light brown hair and thin rimmed glasses. Lydia was not pretty, but would soon be considered a handsome woman.

Before we have a chance to sit down she greets us like she owns the place. “Welcome. Pardon, but we’re just surprised to see you come in. Really we’re surprised to see anyone come in at this hour.” We threw our coats over the stools and sat in the 3rd and fourth stools. Sitting at the hook of the bar she looked at us from her skewed point of view. This is when the conversation began.

I would like to say that I can remember how the conversation went with perfection. But I can’t. I can remember the highlights, and I can try to give you the context, but ultimately I can only give you the funniest and strangest things that she said. The thing that we quickly learned, and the most important thing for you to remember, is that she was FUCKING WASTED. While she was speaking, she would pause as she tried to select the right words from the drunken haze that surrounded her head. Most of the time she would fail and would give up on a point since she couldn’t remember what the hell she was talking about. The only thing that would have made it better would be if little “drunk bubbles” would come out of her mouth while she spoke. That would’ve rocked.

So let me give you the highlights:

· Lydia was from Brazil, but lived in NY, Boston, CA, and Seattle. But this didn’t matter. Now I should say that she did not look even the least bit Brazilian or South American. She was a crusty older white lady.
· I didn’t matter because I am from CT. Jason didn’t matter because he was WA.
· Lydia kept asking me which side of the river I was from. This question struck me as odd, since there are a lot of rivers in CT. Did she mean the Farmington River? Eventually she gave up because I don’t think she even knew what she was asking any more.
· Lydia said, “I went to university in Boston. It starts with an H.” “Harvard?” I replied. “Yes, but I don’t like to say I went to Harvard because then people get intimidated and stop talking to you.” Then Lydia asked if we got intimidated and stopped talking with someone from Harvard or just considered them normal people. Jason, who had been quiet up till this point (mostly) and would not speak again, after this point said the latter. I said, I have known lots of people from Harvard and they are just normal people. Quick side note: A former landlord of mine is the type of Harvard graduate they don’t put in the literature. He is older, unsuccessful, drunken, and lives in the shambles of a house he has been renovating for 22 years now.
· Lydia called us both Assholes a couple of times, although I’m not sure why.
· Lydia called me stupid and she called me a whore. The whore story is kind of funny.
· I was talking with Lydia and she asked what we each did for a living. I told her that I worked for a small software company doing tech support, but my true love was photography. While we were talking about my photography Jason paid for the drinks. It was at about this point that she started calling me a whore and making me defend my artistic principals. Unfortunately, I thought she was accusing me of selling out my artistic principals. What she was actually accusing me of, was that Jason was my pimp daddy who paid for me so I could do my art and this whole job thing I was talking about was a lie (and once again, you better shut the fuck up Glen cause I don’t want to hear it.) It was not until we got outside that Jason explained the timing of her calling me a whore (Jason paying and me not giving him any money for it – it was his turn after all) then it all became clear.
· The conversation ended at about the time that she started saying that anything that wasn’t Brazilian didn’t matter and that we couldn’t understand because we weren’t Brazilian. She said Sinatra was Brazilian and we it was at that point that we officially were done.

The situation was surreal. Trying to argue with a drunken woman who had trouble finishing a thought and was verbally aggressive was just bizarre. As the conversation went on, I wanted to flee but couldn’t draw myself away. My arguments kept getting more and more complicated and flourished as I tried to explain it in some way that would pierce the daze that had settled over her booze dulled senses. There was no real hope, but I kept trying anyhow. Finally Jason said, “We have to go.” And the spell was broken.

As we were leaving, one of the bartenders was leaving at the same time. He said to us, “What was her fucking problem. I just wanted to kick the stool out from under her?” My reply … “She was drunk. Very, very drunk.”

If I ever become like Lydia (on a regular basis, not just one bizarre drunken night) you have full rights to puts a bullet in my booze addled brain.

-wOOt

(October 11th, 2002) I first heard about the HOPS team from our top 5 sponsor: Mel. She received an email from a friend of hers who used to work at Microsoft asking if she was the blue haired Mel mentioned on this random website. In fact she was. Mel then forwarded the email over to me. At the same time that I was introducing myself to them, Hayf, was sending me an email offering to sponsor us. Thus it was decided that Jason and I would meet up with the HOPS team for a drink or four. We had no idea who these people were, only that they worked for Expedia, and that they liked to drink. Really though, we didn’t need to know much else.

We arranged to meet them on Friday at the Honey Hole. We had no idea what they looked like and the only connection we had was that Mel would be coming along that night as well, so at least we would know someone there.

There was some wackiness as we arrived at the Honey Hole and there was no seating available. There was one big group which we thought might be them, but it turned out that it wasn’t. Instead they were sitting off to one side and eventually with a lot of, “Are you the …” and the “Yeah, so you must be the …” we all got ourselves situated.

The HOPS Usability Team, as it turns out is basically a group of people at Expedia who get together on Friday to go out drinking. The reason for the name is that in order to getting a mailing list on the company server, you need to give it a name that sounds vaguely official. If you have not already gotten the joke, take a look at it again.

The members of the HOPS teams are:

Hayf – Tall, long haired, and the nominal spokesman (having made all of the arrangements.) Cool guy, big geek, but in a good way, I promise.
Woo – A great guy who snuck into the Ristorante Machiavelli to pick up a quick sponsorship for the HOPS team. Dating Ready.
Ready – Before the night, her name was Cara, but she needed a nickname and Caz was already taken. A lovely girl and while she knew she needed a nickname, she knew she couldn’t choose it herself.
Stoob – This is what being a geek girl is all about. She is up on the code, works for the ski patrol, and drinks beer with the best of them.
Caz (and Reijo) – Caz is a red-haired firecracker. Reijo eventually showed up later in the evening. According to my friend Jesse, Reijo is a big giant geek and it is funny as hell to him that Caz is dating a big geek.
Marc – is a likeable fellow who now “slums” it with the HOPS team, having retired from Microsoft a comfortable man.
Mel & Tim – Mel is a long time sponsor and Tim is her excellent boyfriend. They came along to provide some mortar between these two different groups.
Krie – Krie showed up later and is also an attractive redhead. Nothing better than a good looking redhead, if you ask me. Anyhow, She met up with us at the Neighbors and we talked travel writing and current events.

Of all the groups we have met on this quest, the HOPS team is easily the best. They are all around good people, smart, funny, and they can even discuss current events. I wish I could talk NPR with my current friends but they either lack the knowledge or the interest to do so.

So the night progressed with some interesting bumps and grinds. After the Honey Hole we were going to go to the Baltic Room. There was no cover till 9pm, so they said on the phone, but when we got there at 8:30 they wanted to charge us $2 so we started to walk. Big-ups to Marc for getting us in without a cover. I think that he dropped our name and made us sound important.

After the Baltic Room, we were collecting to go over to the Eagle and we were still waiting for a couple of people. So Jason, Clarkie, Meg, Woo, and I all snuck into the Ristorante Machiavelli for a quick pickup for the HOPS team. It is was cute, but a little cramped and too warm.

The Eagle had a $2 cover (if not wearing leather) so instead we went to Neighbors to end the evening with some dancing. Strangely there was a $8 which Caz picked up for 4 extra people (Us, Clarkie, and Reijo). I just don’t know what to say about that. That is above and beyond. We need to do something nice for her.

Neighbors was interesting, but almost completely dead. We mostly sat around upstairs and talked while Jason and Meg danced (and occasionally other people.) Krie showed up and we chatted for a little bit. It was funny because at one point she asked what I did and I said, “Well, I do tech support, but someday I’d like to be a Travel Writer.” She and Hayf just looked at me like I was insane. “You know who we work for? Right?” “Uh, yeah, Expedia. Oh, right. Sorry, it didn’t even occur to me.” They asked me some leading questions and whatnot. Nothing has come of it, but it is always good to have contacts.

The night finished with most people leaving and some of us going over to Barca. Krie knows the head bartender/manager person there. The manager type person brought us over a nibbly plate and Krie introduced us around. We talked politics, current affairs, and Sept 11th. It was kind of depressing, but interesting never the less.

I gave a ride home to one of Krie’s friends and for the life of me I can’t remember her name. See, this is what happens when I don’t write things down.

A quick follow-up. A number of the HOPS team came to my most recent cocktail party. It was great. I love these people. If you get the chance to come out with us and them, you should make a point to put it on your calendar.

-wOOt

It is Monday November 26, 2002 and Jason and I are scrambling to meet up with a reporter for the Seattle Times. This is turning point for us. This is our first actual interview for a newspaper. Melanie McFarland writes, in essence, a pop culture column called Pop Fizz. She goes to all of the club openings and generally has her finger on the pulse of the nightlife community. She had heard about us, but had also received our press release and she wanted to do a column on the quest.

After the Friday night snafu we were a little concerned, but that was more us than anything else. All things being equal though this small meeting of just us and her, was a much better setting for her to get a feel for what we are all about. Friday night was fun, but with the group swelling at one to 16 people, it was not a true depiction of our quest. I admit that it is the perception I would like people to have (lots of people, good looking women, lots of fun.)

After some schedule juggling we managed to meet up with her. Since Jason needed to be in Capitol Hill I chose two places at random that were close together. They both turned out to be gay bars. I had no idea. With names like the Madison Pub and the Seawolf Bar and Galley it kind of snuck up on me.

Melanie arrived wearing a large fuzzy orange jacket (that you couldn’t miss) and had were hair tied back in a pony tail. She picked up our drinks at the Madison Pub and I returned the favor at the Seawolf. She seemed very excited when I told her that she had just made our Sponsorships page. I think it snuck up on her since she was just being polite (she was interviewing us.) The funny thing to me about this, is that technically we are doing her a favor by agreeing to be interviewed, but to us, we are more excited that she would want to interview us. It is strange how perception can be so totally different.

The hour and a half that we spent with Melanie was a lot of fun. It was not like an interview at all. We pretty much talked about the quest and told the strange and funny stories that we always tell to people who are interested. The only real difference is that she was taking notes. Melanie would ask questions, but they were not any different than the questions that anyone else asks. I never got the feeling that she had a hidden agenda or that she was trying to find an angle that would purposely make us look bad. I am sure that if she wanted to, she could twist what we said into an anti drinking campaign or a spotlight on two losers with no lives, but that was not all the feeling that I got from her. It was not like we were talking with that argumentative dink on CNN or one of those news channels (I can’t think of his name.)

After an hour and half we were all having a good time and I think that it would have continued if Jason did not have anywhere to be. I hope that Melanie will be at our Last Bar event and that she will come out with us again in an unofficial capacity. She was just generally smart, fun, and funny. If you ever get a chance to go out with her you should. You will be hard pressed to find a better conversationalist. Well, except for us maybe.

-wOOt

We are in Fiesta Mexicana when a fight started brewing behind me. For the most part, I have to describe it to you from what I heard. I really wanted to turn around and look, but I didn’t want to be the staring dumbass who gets punched in the face by the drunken idiot who notices you.

These two large, unattractive, local women start yelling at each other. What started the fight is beyond me. One was a large Hispanic women and the other was, ahem … drunken trailer trash. The trash was dressed in a large sweatshirt that would have been baggy on Hulk Hogan and a pair of sweat pants (god help us.) It started with yelling. My favorite phrase was “Get this drunk assed cunt out of here.” There were many yells of “Don’t you fucking touch me” and “I’ll be waiting for you outside bitch and then I’ll kick your ass.” Finally the bouncer started wrestling the drunk woman out and I was not looking. I had my back to them and did not want to turn and stare like a fucking rubber necker. The bouncer had dragged the woman across the room and into my sight line. I had been looking away when the phrase, “kiss my ass” was yelled. It was at this point that both Sean and I both made a very terrible mistake.

Our heads swiveled at the same moment that she had gripped her sweatpants and yanked them down revealing her large, bulbous, white ass … crack and all. She slapped it once before I could tear my eyes away from the horrible sight. It is now burned into my mind and I hate Sean every time he makes me remember it. Even now, the pain of it burns me that I must breathe steadily to keep from passing out.

And who says nothing interesting ever happens to us?

-wOOt

El Gaucho is a film noir wet dream. A place where life does not intrude and if you let it, everything becomes perfect. Put away your natural Seattleite desire to be casual and dress in your black suit or your little cocktail dress. Fling open the doors and let the ambience wash over you. Breath in the high life and let yourself be pampered. Imagine, even if for just an evening, that money does not matter and that everything and everyone is there to serve you. For here it truly is.

While this does not specifically relate to the quest, it does involve one of our favorite sponsors and one of our favorite places. A group of us went to El Gaucho for Wolf’s Birthday. The group was Wolf, Jason, Jeff, Sean, Jesse, Ryan, and I. If you can afford it the money you spend at El Gaucho will be some of the most memorable money you ever spend.

It began in the cigar lounge. The University of Washington (WU) and Washington State University (WSU) game was playing on the TV. I must admit that I am not 100% that it was this game, but the game was definitely important to a lot of people. As we sat in large comfortable leather chairs, sipping drinks and smoking, staff member after staff member would pop in to check out the game. Our servers were incredibly on the ball and had lit my cigarette before I could fish my lighter out of my pocket.

While we waited for Jesse, a server came in and asked if we would like the 410 room. This is a private dining room that seats 8 and also doubles as their upstairs wine “cellar.” It was like they could see us coming and knew we should not be on the floor. We just had that feel about us and to be honest, it made me feel notorious. I love private rooms. I had to sit with my back mostly to the door and after watching too much Sopranos, it made me nervous.

We began with a wine selection. The wine guy’s knowledge was just frightening. I told him what I liked and he picked a bottle that was just incredible. I always wondered what a $60 bottle of wine tasted like. Being a guy who likes a good $8 bottle of wine the differences were staggering. Jason ordered a sweet white German wine (it is something like a herzegemeiner, but I know my spelling is totally off.)

Then the appetizers began. Jesse and Wolf ordered Caesar Salad. I am so happy that they did. The staff came in with a cart and made the salad fresh. The presentation was amazing. They tossed the salad and added the ingredients with such flair and expertise that we just sat there and stared. There were some other appetizers that were good, but without the presentation, they just didn’t live up. The bread was excellent, as was their blended butter.

The highlight of the main course was Jesse’s Flaming Sword of lamb. The staff brings out a sword with skewers of lamb and vegetables. He then proceeded to use liquid fire to cook the thing as we watched. He poured it on setting the sword aflame and then would drain it into a small dish the size and shape of a gravy boat. He did this several times. I was so awed by the procedure that I completely forgot to take a picture of it.

At one point we needed a question answered. I forget what it was. Knowing how efficient the staff was I just talked about it loudly knowing that someone was listening and that they would answer it. Low and behold, less than a minute later a server had answered the question. Now that is service.

Everyone was finished eating except for Jeff and I. There were still tidbits of food on the table, some on our plates and some on others peoples. Bits of lamp, tenderloin, lobster, or bread were around for the taking. Jeff and I refused to be done until it was taken care of. The concept of letting any of the succulents go to waste was just too much for either of us to take. Eventually we were done and it was time for dessert.

Jason ordered the chocolate cake (from heaven) and Jesse and I ordered the Cherries Jubilee. Since it was a flambé dessert I knew that we were in for another performance. I was right and it was almost as impressive as the flaming sword. With a large copper dish and more liquid fire the waiter performed for our entertainment. Next time I come here I will be ordering Caesar Salad, a flaming sword, and a flambé dessert. What a floor show it will be.

Finally we were all satiated. Jeff ordered some cognac and smoked his cigar. He did a small performance for us by blowing smoke into the cognac snifter (like in Gattaca). The combination of smoke and cognac was tasty as well as beautiful. It was the perfect ender to the perfect evening. While I admit that the bill was, ahem, large, it was not as bad as we were expecting. Our tip alone was more than a family of four will spend at Outback steak house. I am impressed that they did not even tack on the standard 18% for large groups that lower class establishments do. They know that they would be just short shrifting their servers.

I can not stress enough that this was probably the most amazing meal that I have ever had. Jason and I retired to the lounge so that I could finish my coffee. There we listened to the piano player who plays in front of a portrait of himself playing the piano. Jason then waxed poetic. “Imagine that you did not exist before dinner. Picture it in your mind. Now imagine your whole life was like that. That’s what it’s like to be rich.” I admit that I do not really believe that being rich solves all of life’s problems, but it sure seems easier to live well when you don’t have to worry about money.

A night like this makes me feel bigger than I am. I realize that life can be truly beautiful and that it really is about the moments of amazing that make the day to day humdrum bearable. If every moment were as perfect as tonight, in would become mundane and I just could not accept that. So maybe, to be rich is to make the perfect mundane. That would be a curse that I just could not accept.

-wOOt

Recently, the topic of superpowers came up. Now I don’t mean things like flying or invisibility, but superpowers that would enhance your life and make it more interesting. For my friend Sandy, she wants a soundtrack for her life. That way there is always just the right music going on in the background to reflect what is going on. This way if she is walking down a dark alley and she hears the music change she can get the hell out. Or imagine she looks across the room and meets the eyes of a handsome stranger. Does the music swell indicating interest or stay flat because there is no mutual interest? Just imagine how much that would enhance your everyday life.

Next there is the desire for thought bubbles to appear over peoples heads. I think one was Glen or Sarah’s, but I’m not sure. This way you could see what they were thinking, but only in that comic book sorta way. You could always get great deals at the car dealership or know what you did wrong. It was mentioned that the ability to turn them on or off should be included.

I finally came up with a super power that I thought would be worthy. I thought of it while watching Real Genius. I want the power of musical montage. This is the ability to musical montage your way through anything difficult or boring and come out on the other side as if you had spent all of the real time doing it. Imagine how great traveling, studying, or working on dull projects would be. I could go to Law School in about a week , build a giant laser, or win an eating contest of epic proportions.

So what I want people to do is to list their superpowers for the common man here. What would you like to be able to do?

-wOOt

As has been noted in our woefully underused Forums section, we don't have a hottie bartenders section. This is a shameful oversite, but then, we don't hit places necessarily when the hotties are working. But probably some of you do, and we've definitely seen our share of beautiful people.

So, at this late date, I'm going to start asking for people to mention the hottie bartenders, including possibly where and or when they work. Don't know a name? Well, that's fine. Just mention a look.

I'll start off by mentioning, as I did a while ago, the gorgeous Andrew at Barbacoa up on Queen Anne. I know he works at least Friday and Saturday, and he's absolutely beautiful.

This'll have a thread in the Forums, too.

After going to Chinook’s we tried to go to a place in Northgate that was supposed to be open late, but wasn’t when we got there. Having already tried to hit them once, Jason was pissed off. So in turn, he pissed on them. I thought he was kidding when he threatened to do it, but he wasn’t.

The stupidity did not end there though. On the way home, I called Bridgit to let her know that the place was closed and not to meet us there. At that point I proceeded to tell her that instead of going home, she should come to my house and we would “fuck like bunnies.” I believe I said this two or three times. Of course I am wrong for Bridgit in just about every way imaginable but who the hell cares now a days. She probably does, now that I think about.

Oh well.

-wOOt

On each table in Chop Sue was a small Italian Restaurant (and Chinese) style oil lamp holder. In each holder was a small votive style oil lamp. Whenever I would put my glass down on the table, the flame would jump. The harder I put it down, the higher the flame would jump. Why?

The general consensus was that the striking of the table caused the oil to displace in the holder and then the rush of oil back into the wick caused the flame to jump. I just wonder if this correct. Are there any bar physicists who can confirm or deny this theory?

-wOOt

The Most Ambitious Drinking Quest Ever is about to come to an end and you have the opportunity to be there!

Do not miss this once in a life time chance to attend the completion of a quest that has never seen its like. Don't forget there will be someone world famous at this event. How could you even think of missing this opportunity?

Here are the final details that we will be releasing:

Date: Friday March 21st, 2003
Time of arrival: 7:30 (get there early to find parking, please)
Festivities Begin: 7:45 to 8:00
Awards Ceremony: 8:00 or so.
Until: I fully expect this to go till 11:00 and then maybe we will go somewhere we have already been. Why? because we can! :)
Where: Well, now we get to the tricky part. We will be revealing the place on Friday, March 21st (the day of.) I will be calling people, so I will need a phone number where I can call and leave a message or get ahold of you. Have a pen and a piece of paper handy so that I can give you the address.

Cost: Besides the cost of the drink there will be food. If you plan to stay for more than just the final drink make sure that you have a good $20 to $30 available. You may not need it all, but it is good to know that you have it.

Seating: I don't know how many people are going to want to attend this even. I do know that due to space considerations there will be a primary table and one or more subsequant second tables. I wish we could get everyone squeezed into one place, but it just is not going to happen.

Sponsors get first priority, based on number of sponsorships. The Top 5 Sponsors will be granted a special SO slot that they may fill with whoever they please. This is their reward for their amazing support. Oh, and Clarkie does not count as being part of the top 5 for reasons that will not be mentioned here.

I hope to see everyone at the event and I promise that it will be memorable. There will be awards, special mentions, drinking, and eating. It will be a hell of party, I promise you that.

Remember, email us early. Getting in early may not guarantee you a top spot, but it sure gives you a better shot at one.

-wOOt

I don’t remember what the drink is called. I have only noted that it is good and it is purple. Here is the recipe:

Muddled Lemons
1 part Vodka
1/2 part Parfait Amore
Drop of Peach Schnapps
Drop of simple syrup
Blue Curacao for color

Shake. Pour.

Oh, there was probably ice in there too, but it was strained out.

-wOOt

Mary bartends at the Historic Triangle a couple of nights a week and is quite the character. She is about 5’8”, fairly thin, longish dirty blonde hair, and you can tell she was once pretty, in a South End kind of way. From the way she speaks, she is high school educated and has been bartending for many years. She is good people, but a bit excitable.

We were talking about our quest and for some reason Tula’s came up. Mary got really excited because Tula’s is her “second home.” “Its my family.” We mentioned that we would be going on a Sunday because we had a complimentary admission card from Ruth, who bartends on Sunday nights. As some of you might remember, we met Ruth at Andy’s Diner (which has a great breakfast, but stay away from the breaded fish.)

Once we mentioned Ruth, Mary got very defensive. “I was the last female bartender that worked there.” “Who is this liar!?” “Let me see the card she gave you.” Mary looked at the card that Jason produced from his wallet and proclaimed it to be a fake. Despite looking almost exactly like the one that Mary had to give out, she proclaimed it a fake and Ruth a liar time and time again. To our eyes, the logo on the cards looked exactly the same and despite being laid out a little differently, they had the same font and card stock. At one point Mary claims that Ruth must be making these cards up and handing them out, but that they are fakes. “I guess as long as she is advertising for Tula’s it is ok, but …”

This tirade of Mary’s went on for the rest of the 10 minutes that we were there. Mary went so far as to call the owner to find out if there was “a Ruth” working there. Unfortunately the owner was not home. I really wanted to be there to hear Mary’s reaction.

So the follow-up to this little tale is that about a week or so later on we went to Tula’s on Sunday. Standing behind the bar in all of her fabulous glory was Ruth. We told her about Mary and she seemed to remember the name, but she had never met her. Ruth was very interested in this woman who she had never met, but seemed to hate her existance. I don’t know if Ruth and Mary have ever met, but I don’t favor Mary’s chances.

-wOOt

So we drive back to Anthony’s jeep only to discover that he has locked his keys in his jeep. Now this, in of itself, would not be such a big deal if I wasn’t supposed to stop by and see Lilly at Itou sushi. She had a friend there that she wanted me to meet so I was supposed to meet up with her. (In case you hadn’t heard I was interested in her and had been chatting her up.)

I guess he had been reading in his car and had put the keys down on the seat next to him (or some such) and then left them there when he got out of the car. So we had two choices: I could drive him to Bellevue (or maybe Redmond) so that he could pick up his extra set of keys, or we could call AAA (which he doesn’t have.) He had just sponsored a total of 4 bars (over two days) so I can’t just abandon him (although I did think about it.)

I take my AAA card out and tell Anthony to call them and pretend to be me. He does this for a while until they tell him that his card is expired and that he will need to renew. “Umm, ok, let me check my palm pilot.” Anthony says covering. He hands me the phone, I check the amount, then I say hold on. I hand the phone back to Anthony, give him my credit card and tell him to pretend to be me again. He does so. The clerk does not notice to town voice change.

So I drop Jason off, and then we head back to wait for the locksmith guy. We walk over to the mini mart and get some food. We come back, I smoke a cigarette and call Lilly to tell her what happened. She is very understanding.

Eventually the locksmith arrives, he gets Anthony’s Jeep open and then I jet out to meet up with Lilly with a little time to spare. So I guess it all worked out in the end.

-wOOt

After going to Piecoras, Jason, Melody, and myself decided to have a drink and catch up a little bit. We hadn’t seen her in a while and wanted to spend a little time. There is not much to mention (to you all) about our evening except for one notable incident. Melody asked us if we would be willing to try a shot called the Three Wise Men. “It is a little strong, but it’s good.” Umm, ok. We are always up for trying something new.

Melody goes off, explains to the bartender how to make it and comes back with these glasses that look … well … suspicious. The liquid has the clarity of pure booze, but is shaded brown indicating that it is perhaps some type whiskey. “Don’t smell it, just drink it.” We do a toast to Melody and then shoot it. God damn it is strong. It tastes like Tequila, but that is not quite right. Finally we give in and we can not guess what is in the drink.

Melody replies:
“Well, it’s equal parts of the three Wise Men:
Jim
Jack
Jose’ .”

-wOOt

We got this drink recipe from Red. He calls it a purple elephant and he is very proud of it.

2 parts vodka
1 part blue curacao
1 part lime juice
1 part grenadine

Shake and pour into a rocks glass. It is purple and tasty. Give it a try.

-wOOt

Jason told me this joke and I in turn told it with great effect to Lilly.

A grasshopper walks into a bar.
The bartender says, “You know, we have a drink named after you.”
The Grasshopper replies, ”Really? You have a drink named Kevin?”

-wOOt

Or some varient on that point. It's true sometimes, too. We don't have true objectivity here, we can't. We've been to the vast majority of these bars just the once. We've had one or two drinks at each. That's not really objective by any stretch.

So do you think we're wrong about a bar? Don't just say we're wrong, or stupid, or that our various female relatives are getting the loving they really need from some sort of educated real he man or something, post something. Post a capsule review of your experience at the bar as a comment. Tell us what happened there for you, and tell all the rest of the readers the same. Don't just say we at 570 suck, offer your evidence as proof. (Cause trust me, there's plenty of contrary evidence to our reviews out there. There has to be.)

Plus, it's the only way we'll ever learn. So tell us what we got wrong, and let everyone benefit from the wisdom of all the drinking experience this hard-drinking city has to provide.

In my entry about Jillian's I talked about this strange air hockey master who hung out at the tables and trounced local groups of visitors. He was some sort of Regional Air Hockey champion, but that only made him weirder.

I was talking with one of the bartenders recently (about 6 to 9 months post our visit) and I asked him what happened to the Air Hockey guy who worked for them.

"Air Hockey Guy?" he asked
"You know, the guy who hung out at the Air Hockey Tables."
"Oh him. Actually he never worked here. He just hung around so he could stalk one of the bartenders."
"Oh."

So sometimes, people really are as creepy as they seem.

--B

There's this place on Capitol Hill, a little shop located in a crevice of Neumo's, called Frites. I've been past it a few times, and I even went in once, but there was no one there at all (I suspect they were in the little back storage area, but who knows?) so I just left again.

However, a few days ago, I finally ate there.

It's not a big menu. By which I mean, you can get Frites (Belgian/Dutch style fries) and like two other things. And sauces, you can get about 25 of those. But really, who needs a big menu when the one featured item is the king?

Those Frites, man are they good. Thick but crispy like a shoestring fry, and oh so tasty, served in a paper cone with a sauce of your choice. Sauces like pablano ranch, or a very good honey mustard, or rosemary mayonaise where the rosemary is infused throughout. Curry ketchup and roasted red pepper mayo, too. And a couple dozen more. So good that you eat them up, one after another, and then order a second cone, because they're that good.

They come in three sizes, Klein and Middel and Groot, and we should have just gotten a Groot, because they were that good.

It's a little place, and so it's easily overlooked, but you, and everyone you know, should go there, early and often. I know I'll be back every chance I get. Bridgit was all broken up about the fact that she'd never been there and now was moving just when she discovered it. It's that good.

So go. Now. You're still on your computer, aren't you? Log off, and eat Frites.