No Diggity

Joe ain't got no class nor style. Street knowledge he aint ever found. Customers never act wild. Very low key on the profile. Catchin good bartenders is a no. Let me tell you how it goes. Adios is the word, vamanos is the verb. Drinkers the curves. drinks the verb, so fuck what you heard. Rollin with the lateness, you don't even know what bad service is. You gotta play to pay, just for shorty bang-bang server to look your way. I don't like the way you work it, I just want a beer. I'm trumped every night, all day every day. You're blowing my mind, baby its a trap, are you sure this place aint total crap?

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween. Someone done crunked up up tha joint and done made tha hizzouse like a realz club yo. Fo shizzle, check out the Rizzle Room on Monday nights. Its da bomb.

Bashing Baseball Because It Blows

I (that's me) fucking (still doesn't express the true depth of the hatred) hate (really hate, i know hate is a strong word but i really really hate) baseball (stupidest sport ever). Its (it is) the (THE) most (ultimate, supreme, top, zenith, nth degree) boring (tedious for tedious sake) game (more like self water torture and endurance test to see just how much crap you can put up with) I've (i know i am not supposed to use contractions but it is a school night and i am not able to type fast enough) ever(EVER) seen (seen, heard, read, remembered). I'd (i would) rather (dan) watch (with me own eyes) golf (who saw the tiger woods scandal coming?) or (conjunction) bowling (duck pin or ten pin, i don't care just don't make me play baseball) on (ion, eye on) television (too bad steve jobs died because he was going to change television as we know it too). I (me, myself and i. can i get a De La Soul hell ya?) know (i dont know much) that (that hat hates fat) it (i called not it) is (bill clinton's definition of is) America's (good ole US of A, not North America America) past (pabst? remember when summers served pbr in a can?) time (time waits for no one), but (beavis and but) I (I Me Mine. Damn, the Beatles are overrated) don't (do not donut) understand (oversit) it (stupid stephen king novel). Eight (the great 8) out (through the in door) of (for the love of) the (the the) ten (decimal dewey) players (hate the game) stand (another stupid stephen king novel) around (you spin me) and (hand in glove) do (doo) jack (man i miss 24) shit (merde). And (starting a sentence in a blog post with a conjunction is a bigger fucking faux pas than) baseball games (people get paid to do this shit?) are (didn't use to be) so (so) fucking (totally fucking) long (still an understatement). Baseball (moneyball) is (it is!) the (tha) worst (worstest) sport (other sports are irate its even called a sport) ever (4eva) and (plus) yet (not spanglish for jet) Joe (the dumbass running the place into the fucking ground, right down there in the 7th circle of hell with baseball) continues (continually) to (2) show (its a fucking show!) baseball (there's a hall of fame for standing around doing nothing?) games (i would rather play clue or stratego) at (tention) Summers (a whole other circle of hell). If (my grammar is worse than baseball) you're (you are) going (going, gone) to be (or not to be) a sports bar (which you're not because you don't always show sports), and (and how) I've (i have) heard (i swear) rumors (i don't like to gossip) to (straight to the top) the (das) effect (effex) that (that is) Summers (sanders) is (or pretends to be) a (one single) sports (joe's definition of sports is broad) bar (sets the bar pretty low), show (showgirls) some (sum if you add it up) real (pretend would be fine) fucking (pretend would be fine here too) sports (give sports a sporting chance). NHL (naturally hotshit league) hockey (actual real sport) games (its not a game, its war) would (could should ought) be (or not bee) a (ahhhh) good (better than most) start (don't let your mouth write checks your ass cant cash) Joe.

The Butcher, The Baker, The Candle Stick Maker

The best thing about Summers is the people.

The reason I go to Summers is not for the AWESOME food or the EXCEPTIONAL service, but for the people I know and love. I happened to go to Summers on a random Tuesday night (totally random, just so happens [by pure coincidence] it was this Tuesday, i.e. ipso noce) and ran into three of my favorite people, The Butcher, The Baker and The Candle Stick Maker.

{stop by on a tuesday. its busier than you think. the service is better than normal since marco polo john sturm had to retire from hockey because he couldn't skate and had to take a part-time job. - editor}

The Butcher is covered in tattoos but loves to talk about how #moviequacks is his favorite blog so I know there is a sensitive side. The Baker is loud and abrasive but giggles when I poke him in the stomach. The Candle Stick Maker, she is a whole different ball of, umm, wax. She's like the Potpourri category on Jeopardy, she always keeps you guessing.

And for all their foibles and bad language, I love them because they're them. And I love Summers because Summers is a place where they can go, where I can go, and they can just be themselves. I wouldn't love them unless they were them and I wouldn't love Summers unless Summers was a place were they could be them.

The Summers People

I love Summers, but Joe, you have got to pick a fucking identity for your bar. I don't want to get off on a rant here, but you can't be the urban cowboy, the decontruction worker, the bandwagon Caps fan, the native American, the pretend Canadian, the javelin thrower, the anal-retentive Arlington traffic cop, the Father Confessor, the ascot-wearing professor, the hells angel biker, the DC United Striker, an Appalachain Trail hiker, the disgruntled music critic, the ceiling tile repairman, the pirate masquerading as a deejay or the patron mesquerading as a satisfied customer to everyone at the same time. If you're a sports bar, show fucking sports. Don't make people wait to see the World Series game, Monday Night Football, a hockey game or any other sporting event. If you're a dive bar, don't make people wait for drinks. Make sure there's enough staff so people can get a drink. If you're a dance club, play some fucking music that people can dance to, like Heroin or Sister Ray.

Come on Up to the House

The Blue Moon is broken. The moldy tile is cracked. Come on up to the Red Room. The only things that you can see is all the oxygen you lack because of all the smoke, but come on up to the Red Room. All your crying for another beer don't do you no good, come down off your high horse, we could use the meat to make sliders, you gotta come on up to the Red Room. Come on up to the Red Room. Summers is not my home, I'm just passing through, you gotta come on up to the Red Room. You have no life in the metro tunnel, no irons in the fire, so come on up to the Red Room. You're singing lead soprano in a functional alcoholic's choir, you got to come on up to the Red Room. Does the service seem nasty, brutish and short? You have to come on up to the Red Room anyway. The seas are stormy, and you can't find no other bar, just come on up to the Red Room. Come on up to the Red Room. There's nothing in the world that you can do, you gotta come on up to the Red Room.

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To drum up a little extra cash, Joe has registered Summers as an official polling place for the local elections. Unfortunately, in order to qualify as an official polling place, Joe had to prohibit certain activities at Summers:

1. Loitering or ordering a beer
2. Giving, offering or showing any menu or other Summers material
- Exception- worn items like the beer the bartender spilled on me or the garbage salad I regurgitated on myself
3. Asking people to come to Summers
4. Telling people about Summers
5. Telling people about what's happening at Summers
6. Telling people Summers is actually open
7. In any way trying to influence a person to eat at Summers
8. Stopping a customer from entering Summers
9. Delaying a dissatisfied customer from leaving Summers

These offenses are Class 1 misdemeanors. The penalty is a fine up to $2500 and up to 12 months in Joe's dungeon.

Rara Brava

Barra Brava sunt rara aves.

Before the Caps bandwagon leaves the station (skins bandwagon was derailed by sexy rexy's IV interceptions), I wanted to give a shout out to some real DC-area sports fans. Barra Brava. They've been there through thick and thin (re: the opposite of bandwagon) and they always show their support and they're not shy about showing it because they're loud and proud of it. So here's to some real DC sports fans.

I just wish more of them came to Summers.

Blame Canada

We win. You lose. The USA is awesome. Canada is lame. This nation's capitol bested the other nation's capitol in a feat of strength, so I hope your Festivus sucks as a result. I know I was born in Canada but America's materialism has sucked me in and now I'm more of a red-blooded American than Ryan Reynolds or Michael J. Fox.