Monday, January 31, 2011


Everyone knows Summers is the most laid back bar in Arlington, right?

Everyone knows Summers isn't a meat market like Whitlow's or Clarendon Grill or Rhodeside Grill, right?

Everyone knows Summers draws people because they want cheap beer and want to grab a seat and just unload their troubles, right?

Everyone knows that gives me the right to not do up my pants when I come out of the bathroom, right?

Apparently, my favorite thing to do when I'm at Summers is to not keep the goalie in his trapezoid. To put it another way, my favorite thing to do at Summmers is to let the bishop out of his pulpit. To put it another way, my favorite thing to do is to let old McDonald's chicken have the run of the farm yard. To put it another way, my favorite thing to do is to let Obi Wan see the force is strong in me.

I know my manners are terrible, but I appreciate the fact that Summers is a place where I feel comfortable and that Summers is a place where I can be myself and it is a place where I can let it all hang out.

Sunday, January 30, 2011

Ice Ice Baby

I hate repeating myself because it makes me think people aren't listening, but this one bears repeating & repeating & repeating until somone can tell me one good thing to come out of an All-Star game.

I hate All-Star games in general because the game doesn't mean anything, players don't play the game the way they usually do, and nobody plays any defense in any All-Star game, regardless of the sport.

Hockey is a man's sport and playing an All-Star game like middle-class parents so concerned about their status and their kid's status and self-esteem that they want every child to pass rather than actually learn something just dishonours the game.

Having an NHL All-Star game is like having a Summers Salsa Dancing Contest.

They're both completely fucking useless.

Friday, January 28, 2011

The Three Stooges

Ever have one of those nights at Summers when you feel like Curly in an unfunny Three Stooges act? Well, tonight was one of those nights.

Chad Howard and Monica Fine were trading witty barbs and double entendre like it was going out of style or they had just discovered wit and needed to try it out, and I felt like Curly in that awkward moment when Shemp wanted to return because he was first, but the people wanted Curly because he was funny.

I kept hitting myself on the head and poking myself in the eye, but they wouldn't stop.

One of the things I love about Summers is that it takes all kinds and anything goes, but every once in a while you're the odd man out.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

The State of the Summers Address

My fellow alcoholics, tonight I want to begin by congratulating the men and women that continue to show up at Summers despite the presence of Mya and her shitty customer service and despite the fact that Joe still owns the joint and he seems to be content to run it into the fucking ground.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you very much.

And as I mark this occassion, I also want to be mindful of the empty stool in this bar as we pray for the health of our fellow drinkers -- but not people that we would call our friends - who may or may not be with us any longer, Donnie, Michael Fazio, Frankenbrian, Professor Ascot, I could go on forever.

Thank you, thank you. Thank you very much.

It has been no secret that the discussions at the bar over the last year year have been contentious. Some supercilious Canadians have fought fiercely for their beliefs. And that's haunting. But that's what a good bar crowd demands.

And that's what helps set Summers apart.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Buckets of Rain

I just threw up on my doorstop a little because I saw Sonny empty out his bucket so he could use it to scatter snow salt on the sidewalks surrounding Summers.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

The Worst Story Ever Told

Tonight I had the displeasure of listening to the worst story ever told.

And no, it wasn't Monica talking about how the server must be down because her blackberry hasn't been ringing off the hook the last ten seconds.

The worst part was that the story had all the elements of a summer blockbuster. Incarceration. International intrigue. Identity theft. Betrayal. Salsa Dancing.

Salsa Dancing?

Yes. Phil worked the census for the state of Virginia. And all states. But he was earning extra cash by teaching salsa dancing. But not at Summers. And at the same time he worked at an Embassy?

It might have been the Embassy cab company because apparently Phil's friend borrowed his cab and got pulled over by the police but then Phil's friend gave the cops Phil's name and sold him out so Phil got arrested and was in jail during the Steelers-Jets game and he cried in his cell because he couldn't watch the game and he filed a complaint with his lawyer but his jailers didn't want him to go outside.

But Phil let the guy who he says he didn't actually know very well borrow his cab because they studied together in Bombay, India and South Africa for some classes and because the guy's family was rich.

I'm really not doing the story justice. It was fucking brutal because the storyteller was drunk and the story made even less sense than it does in this post.

It was so excruciating I had to scarf down the tuesday fish special and chug my beer and promptly escort myself out of the building so I could regurgiate the yuengling, the fish, and the awful feeling in the pit of my stomach about Phil's future and his storytelling ability right on the sidewalk.

O Captain, My Alternate Captain

O Captain, My Alternate Captain, our fearful season is done.
Our team has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won.

Well, not really, I mean we haven't even gotten to the Stanley Cup final, let alone won a Stanley Cup, but the point is they picked me as an alternate captain on Team Staal for the NHL All-Star game. They didn't pick Alex because he's having a terrible year and the hat trick the other night was too little, too late.

I'd also like to point out that Geno & Sid are being big cry babies and passing on the All-Star weekend all together. Well, la-di-da, you fucking amatuers. Its hockey. Grow up, play hurt and take it like a man you suckling little preemies.

Monday, January 24, 2011

What's the deal with NFL Sundays?

The Red Room is for smoking,
and it makes me feel like I am choking.
One thing that makes me mad,
When it takes 20 minutes to get my tab.
If you are going there to watch sports,
you might as well go to Four Courts.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

whats the deal with the red room

whats up with the red room
why do i always feel gloom
when i enter that vacuum

is it because mya looks like doctor doom
is it becase sonny dances with the broom

i come here to watch sports
i dont want cnn reports
or your unwitty retorts

dammit now your banter has me all out of sorts
ill just go across the street to four courts

but i wanna see my game
thats really why i came
and i have joe to blame

i shouldve know it would be the same
and that this place was pretty lame

What’s the Deal With Dreaming About Summers?

I like a little late night blog browsing just as much as the next introvert, but if reading the Slumlog gives me dreams of Big Daddy Joe dishing up brownie sundaes like Willy Wonka, maybe I ought to stick to something a little less racy.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

What's The Deal With Me Being The Only Person At Summers...

...from 6:30 to 9:45 tonight (except for the Bedazzler, Eric, Monica, the HOG, and this lovely German couple who had to leave right away)?

You Better Bring Your B Game

If you're going to Summers, you better bring your B game.

I go to Summers all the time, so I naturally take my B game with me wherever I go. It has become such a force of habit that I even use second-rate material at work when I'm trying to get a laugh out of co-workers as I pass them in the hall just so I don't have to engage them in actual conversation.

But don't take your B game across the street to Four Courts.

I just tried that. I got rejected harder than the time I flew halfway around the world to tell a girl I loved her and she was like what the fuck are you doing here? At least this time I only had to cross Clarendon & Wilson Boulevards with my tail between my legs.

Seriously, the B game works at Summers because there isn't actually anyone there. The B game also works at Summers because I'm not sure that anyone that goes there actually understands English. I mean, you can riff for twenty minutes about chesterfields at Summers. Not so at Four Courts. And you can take your B game to Summers because the idea of a great practical joke is...

New Club Scarlet Website

I know we are supposed to be building America's Hockey Capital, but I think this is the wrong way to do it: Club Scarlet.

A website for female Caps fans is just stupid if yours truly isn't front and center.

Hockey fans are hockey fans and shouldn't be separated by gender, creed or colour.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

What's the deal with the sparkly fists?

I was skating around Wells Fargo Center during the game tonight and I couldn't see the puck because of the glare from all the sparkly fists. It was so difficult to see I nearly knocked a puck into my own goal and cost my team the game. As it was, I turned the puck over in overtime and the Flyers won. Before heading to the locker room I caught a glimpse of the Cookie Monster shaking her sparkly fist at me in hatred. Stupid Philly phans.

Monday, January 17, 2011

What's the deal with Mark McGrath?

Is it just me, or is Mark McGrath slumming when he hosts karaoke at Slummers? I just wanna fly (away from here), indeed.

Ethan Hawke was terrible in Before Sunrise (although the performance was haunting), but he was great in Training Day so its a step down to hang out at Summers on Fridays one would think.

The silver lining is at least I know what Matt Bomer has been doing on his break between episodes of White Collar. He's been hosting karaoke at Summers.

Enough with the scruffy look and the houndstooth hat pulled down low over one eye.

You can put lipstick on a ditch pig and call it a Summers DJ, or you can dress it up and make it look like the lead singer of Sugar Ray or a guy who peaked in Dead Poets Society or some guy I've never even heard of, but you're still a shitty DJ who can't sing and is playing to completely disinterested alcoholics in a nearly empty Red Room.

When you're singing every song and you're walking up and down empty aisles, just close your eyes and wish you weren't there, hope you just fade away.


What's the deal with painting?

Other than football, the common theme on Facebook pages this holiday weekend has been painting. Living rooms, kids' bedrooms.. blah blah blah. So imagine my surprise when I strolled into the office this morning and there were painters everywhere.

Since I have a keen eye for decorating, I inquired about the colors..."beige" they replied.

I suggested that they might want to consider another color choice... "Red walls, green trim."

Their reply, "you must be crazy."

"Indeed." I hadn't even gotten to the rope lights yet.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Hell Hath No Fury Like Mike Green Scorned

I know. I've seen My Name is Earl and I get the whole concept of karma. I also heard all about John Lennon in December and I know that instant karma is going to get me. All that being said, I didn't know that my anti-disestablismentmikegreenism was going to come back and bite me in the ass like it did.

Everyone who has ever read this blog (thanks mom! i totes heart you!) knows I have a deep-seeded hatred for Mike Green and the way he plays hockey. Turnabout is fair play, and all the chickens who cant play defense came back to roost today.

Anyway, today was the last time Ottawa would play hockey in Washington during the regular season and I had my ticket ready and waiting by the front door.

Before I left I decided to have a few pops though. It was weird because the game was at 3 and I don't like drinking during the winter when the sun is up, but it is hockey, and I started drinking at 11 AM, I mean who doesn't love a Bloody Mary for brunch (hi mom! i had celery for breakfast!)? Well, one Bloody Mary led to four more and I was drinking up until 2 when I suddenly realized it was time to go.

I jumped on the metro.

And got as far as Rosslyn.

When I remembered that metro wasn't running between Rosslyn and Foggy Bottom. Well, not so much remembered as they told me to get off the train because it wasn't going to DC. Fucking Ted Leonsis and his attempts to keep all Caps haters out of the city.

Well, I showed him by not even going to the game and not giving him any of my money.

Only to realize that when I got home I had already paid for the tickets.

Damn you Ted Leonsis, Mike Green, and damn you too metro!

The Green Green Grass of Home

I know I'm not supposed to tweet during the game, but damn, that Canadian anthem brings a tear to my eye every single time.

Thursday, January 13, 2011


I went to Saskatooine and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.

On my way through the Arkanis sector of the outer rim territories in my Metrollineum Falcon, I stopped into the Mya Eisley canteen.

I had a debt to Joe the Hutt I had to pay off so I figured I would try and exchange my two droids, R2-DGino and Chris3-PO, for my life. Unfortunately, that traitor Clinton Calrissian sold me out to the bounty-hunter Ooomba Fett before I could complete the transaction.

I had to flee into the desert of Saskatooine, which is flatter than Saskatchewan and drier than Tatooine, and where there is no building over seven stories and I know because I ran into old Chad Kenobi as he used the force to sneak up on me and he had to show me pictures on his 3G-light sabre tablet from Verizon.

After he taught me the ways of the force and he taught me about twoonies and how flat Saskatooine is, we were waylaid by the Saskatooine people and their giant Reginas.

Which is rough, if you know what a Regina is.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Mojito Madness

Last night was the most recent in a long string of baffling disappointments at Summers.  I showed up for Salsa Night with an acute mojito hankerin’ only to find that they had discontinued mojitos due to “lack of demand.”

My bewilderment exists on many levels, so I will attempt to peel them off one by one.

1. Since when has anything at Summers been driven by demand?  If it was, we’d have good music on the radio, real bartenders, non-toxic building materials, a lock on the bathroom door, decent food and drink specials, NO karaoke, and certainly NONE of this whole “Salsa Experience” bullshit, which is why…

2. There should have never been mojitos in the first place! But if you are going to run a special, RUN THE FUCKING SPECIAL UNTIL IT’S DEAD, but apparently Summers doesn’t have the attention span for that, which is why…

3. PERONI came out of the Miller Lite tap on Monday!  Don’t try to tell me it didn’t, Shawn, because I FUCKING KNOW IT DID.

4. Clearly the real culprit here is Summers’ incapacity to keep the necessary fresh mint on hand for the one day a week the special was offered.  We get it.  I mean, we really don’t, but we do.  It doesn’t even have to do with muddling being hard work, because Shawn had that shit down to a science, and it was good. But even if we were to pretend for a millisecond that anything happening at Summers was due to actual customer demand (or lack thereof) we could reasonably expect they’d manage to stock a bottle of Angostura Bitters behind the bar, for the ascot-wearing jackasses and other whiskey lovers who may on occasion be inclined to enjoy a motherfucking Manhattan, one of the most classic and fundamental cocktails of all time.  Bitters don’t go bad; they can sit on the shelf forever, they’re a STAPLE of any respectable bar stock, and unlike many others in that random and mysterious Summers’ array of tonics and potions (I’m looking at YOU, eight-year-old bottle of Apple Brandy), Bitters actually have a legitimate medicinal value.

5. At the core of my bewilderment lies an unshakable self-loathing for having allowed this completely typical, predictable occurrence to actually piss me off.  Ahhh, Summers!  Go fuck yourself.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Ode to the Oregon Fan

Oh, the tiles may all have mold,
And the puke may be twenty minutes old.
But when I find myself down on my luck,
I always remember that I have my Oregon Ducks.
Given a little perspective, it is all just a game,
Isn't it? But I am sad all the same.
The Ducks will live to play another day,
but for Cam Newton, the FBI might have another say.
It was an honor just to make it there,
Even if it made me yell like a damn Grizzly Bear.

Monday, January 10, 2011

The Decade's First Worst Idea Ever

Oh my God, I don't even know where to start. I could point out the additional comma after Tue. or the lack of space between 9:30PM but that's more about what a terrible sign it is than what a terrible idea it is. Salsa night has been so poorly attended that the $100 cash prize will put you $90 in hole and that's counting the money you took in when you were stupid enough to charge people for an event that nobody wanted to attend. I don't even want to think about what the trophy will look like, and Salsa Contest trophy images will haunt my dreams. I will also be haunted by the fact that there's a salsa contest and no fantasy sports teams sponsored by Summers or playoff football pools even though Summers is a fucking sports bar. Know your customers Joe, know your customers. As far as I am concerned, there are no winners in this slasa contest, only losers.

Choking Hazard

I'm still haunted by the way we choked in the NHL playoffs last year. My psyche is fragile and I still haven't recovered and my personal stats prove it, so I hope the Oregon Sucks don't choke tonight.

This is their chance on the national stage and as much as I hate them because Ducks have been tarnished as a team mascot since Joshua Jackson (I'm still haunted by his performance in the Dawson's Creek series finale) and the Anaheim Mighty Ducks ruined the name forever lo those many years ago.

I also like Cam Newton because it makes me think of fig newtons.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Changes and Shooting Ranges

It is the New Year and most people want a change, so I contacted some friends, put on my best gumshoe disguise and worked the Ballston Beat on Friday night and report the following... (1) there seemed to be no, I repeat no, persons of interest or "wanted individuals" in the restaurant I attended, good for business, bad for blogging (2) the crowd is getting younger and younger, while I seem to be getting older and older... I don't like it, but with enough botox n'stuff, no one will notice anyway (3) office parks are popular places to have bars but I still prefer the atmosphere in Old Town or good ol' Courthouse/Clarendon.

I was pumped up after tonight's Caps game, so I went across the street to play Golden Tee and Big Buck Hunter. Rumor has it, that Summers once had one of those games...but well, if they had a suggestion box, and I'd like to think that they do, but I'd like to put that on the list - especially since I won my game of BBH tonight. Thank you. Goodnight.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Six of one, half a dozen...

Is there really any difference between Bud Light and Miller Lite?

Tonight I found myself trapped in the Red Room in the worst conversation since I got caught in a pointless argument with a long-haired hippe wannabe named Kelley (and it was a dude too, go figure) about whether Fairport Convention or The Kinks were the most English of the English British Invasion bands.

Even worse, I was swept up in the totally tiresome talk of the Titans of Taste who were arguing the merits of Bud Light and Miller Lite.

Firt of all, Bud Light hasn't been any good since they got their taste vortexes handed to them in Bud Bowl II. Second of all, Miller doesn't even know how to spell "Light" correctly. Thirdly, it is not fucking rocket science considering neither one of them actually tastes like beer. I mean, its not like you're arguing the merits of Newcastle and Guinness. Finally, you're at Summers, you're not exactly beer conissuers.

The best part about the whole awkward conversation was that Mya offered her learned opinion even though she's never had a sip of beer in her life. And the second best part about the whole awkward conversation was her running her mouth about which shitty beer tastes better and me saying do you know enough about beer to actually pour me one?

Which only further hightens the dramatic irony considering how much I like Summers and how much the service sucks.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Highlights & Lowlights: 2010 Edition

1. One of my favorite hightlights of the year was when Joe told Mya and unsuspecting patrons that one of the servers was pregnant. Good times. Awkward times but good times.

2. Obviously another highlight was the opening of the Red Room.

3. A definite lowlight was the disappearance of the Peroni Special signs. Who knew the beer was even on special unless you were behind the bar crouched down trying to get your cell phone out of the cabinet under the cash register?

4. The World Cup haikus were a definite highlight.

5. Vuvuzelas were a definite lowlight.

6. But I really like saying vuvuzela, say it vu-vu-zela, it just kind of rolls off the tongue so vuvuzelas just about broke even in 2010 I think.

7. Flyers fans were also a definite highlight as the flags and the crazy fans and sparkly fists gave us Slumloggers endless fodder.

8. This should have probably been paired with the unveiling of the Redrum, but the appearance of Summers New Door was another 2010 highlight. I walked right fucking into it the first time because I didn't actually expect a door to be there, but it was a welcome addition and kept those tree-hugging granola-chrunchers from the dark side of the moon and the resulting brain damage.

9. The zesty wings were another highlight. As a matter of fact the entire Summers menu was a huge hit in 2010.

10. Okay so the previous item was a complete exageration.

11. That one time I saw Donnie was a major highlight.

12. The end of the Bedazzler series of youtube videos was a definite lowlight. Summers doesn't have any weird, unusual or quirky patrons so when a bedazzled crazy mofo shows up and starts ranting about Summers, you milk that cash cow until its nipples are chafed.

13. Its like having the 13th floor in a hotel, there's nothing here for fear of some stupid superstition.

14. Salsa Night.

15. The hyperactivity of all the Capitals and Redskins fans hopping on and off and back on and then back off and then putting one foot on and then pulling it back off and then jumping on and then jumping back off and then jumping back on the bandwagon and saying they had been there the whole time happened so often its both a highlight and a lowlight.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Lady Stanley's Cup

We beat Sid the Skid and his gaylords in the Winter Classic. That guarntees us a spot in the Staney Cup finals. Get your playoff tickets now.

And is it so wrong to guarantee a playoff victory based on one game?

Obvisouly not.

If you can't win the Cup, don't even bring it up.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

New Year's Resolutions

If Summers was a person that could make resolutions, here are a few I would suggest:

1. Find A New Way to Attract Customers - Karaoke is passable, but Salsa dancing is a shitty idea. Especially when you started by charging for it. Find something that will actually draw new people in, not encourage Summers staff to dance on their break. Here's an idea, why don't you ask people that show up what they woud like?

2. Complete a Customer Survey - Summers is in the service industry and as such one of their goals should be to improve customer service, and once again, one way to do that would be by asking people that show up what they think rather than trying to figure it out by yourself in your deep dark dungeon.

3. Conduct a complete staff review - This review should also include comments from other staff members and patrons because we all know you only hire someone if you think the chick is hot. One of the problems that Summers has is many on the staff don't work hard, don't anticipate customer needs or don't even respond to customer needs once that need has been vocalized by some drunken bum in the back hollering about the fact that Summers has run out of beer.

4. Find Your Niche - Seriously you have 12 screens showing 12 different basketball games and you don't have anyone watching them, but you put one Caps game on and you get a bunch of Caps bandwagon fans. Bandwagon fans are good for business so you should figure out if you want to appeal to random basketball fans who may or may not gone to North Dakota State or appeal to hardcore hockey fans or other niche sports like you do with English Premiere League.

Welcome to 2011!

I look forward to 2011, especially since I am haunted by 2010.