Here in Charleston, we apparently like to do things differently. Especially when it comes to our bar scene - or at least the naming of our bars in the bar scene.
A year or so ago, an old cafeteria-type restaurant was gutted and turned into this skeezy place called Rendezvous. For weeks, I was uncertain if it was a strip club, casino, or bar. There's no windows and the lettering on the sign is all red and pink and sexy. Apparently it's just a bar. I still beg to differ as I have never set foot inside.
Another restaurant closed down and a bar decided to take over it as well. The once Sticky Fingers in North Charleston has now turned into Market Street Saloon. The kicker? Market Street is downtown. And there is actually a saloon on the downtown street. However, the Market Street Saloon that is in skanky North Charleston, is NOT on Market Street. Tell me how in the hell you can name a Bar "So and So Street" and not actually require that it be located on So and So Street?! False advertising, much?
So whatever. After my stint of random illnesses over the past two weeks (thus explaining my hiatus, as well), I was more than ready to get out of the house, off the couch, and out of my fat pants. I mean, I love my fat pants, but I seriously needed to change clothes... at least for one night.
Our neighbors, Angel & Richard wanted to play and suggested we go to Market Street Saloon not on Market Street (MSSNOMS) (You like how it says "noms" at the end, don't you?)
So we went.
And let me tell you! That place is a SHIT SHOW. MSSNOMS = SS. Yes.
Because the bar is fairly new, the clientele hasn't exactly been established, and therefore it's every sumbitch for himself, apparently. There were the under-agers, the punks, the cowboys, the sorostitutes, the Navy boys, the skinheads... and us. Where we fit? I'm not quite sure. I am sure that I could have spent the entire evening without uttering a word and just watching the chaos around me. And the music selection? Oh dear baby Jesus. The DJ would go from "Shotz" by LMFAO to "Photograph" by Nickelback, to freaking country music. How does that make sense?! And where did he get his DJ degree? Sheesh. It jarred my brain every time a new song came on. At least he played "Single ladies" by Beyonce and I was able to do my rendition of her dance moves from the video. I know you're sad you missed that shit.
At one point, somewhat early in the evening, I noticed some dumb girl at the bar griping a couple of rags in one hand with her other hand strategically wiping the corner of her foul mouth. Bitch puked. All over the bar.
Bad enough right?
Wrong.
Bitch then proceeded to FIST BUMP everyone in sight for her aforementioned puke show.
We saw her later climbing onto the bar to dance. I anxiously awaited her plummet back to the puke-soaked concrete floor, however I was not granted this sight, as she managed to not fall somehow.
It gets better... later she was stumbling around, all zombie-like with googley eyes, with a tiny shot glass in her hand that she was sipping on like it was wine. Whichever group of men she would bump into she would stare at sideways and put up her fists like she wanted to fight them. Before she could vomit or perform a strip tease, her pretty, much-more-sober friend would come get her and guide her by the shoulders through the next group of victims to attempt to spare her dumbass any more embarrassment.
The saddest part about all of this? We all pretty much looked at each other in unanimous agreement - this little shit show of a drunk girl basically could have passed as my ex-best friend. And I used to be the tall pretty friend trying to save her from herself...
So on this Thanksgiving, I am most thankful for not having a shit show hooker trashcan of a friend that I have to babysit in the bar anymore. I am also thankful for the MSSNOMS for allowing me to witness the audacity that is MSSNOMS.
I'll count this as a win. Ah-thank you.
A year or so ago, an old cafeteria-type restaurant was gutted and turned into this skeezy place called Rendezvous. For weeks, I was uncertain if it was a strip club, casino, or bar. There's no windows and the lettering on the sign is all red and pink and sexy. Apparently it's just a bar. I still beg to differ as I have never set foot inside.
Another restaurant closed down and a bar decided to take over it as well. The once Sticky Fingers in North Charleston has now turned into Market Street Saloon. The kicker? Market Street is downtown. And there is actually a saloon on the downtown street. However, the Market Street Saloon that is in skanky North Charleston, is NOT on Market Street. Tell me how in the hell you can name a Bar "So and So Street" and not actually require that it be located on So and So Street?! False advertising, much?
So whatever. After my stint of random illnesses over the past two weeks (thus explaining my hiatus, as well), I was more than ready to get out of the house, off the couch, and out of my fat pants. I mean, I love my fat pants, but I seriously needed to change clothes... at least for one night.
Our neighbors, Angel & Richard wanted to play and suggested we go to Market Street Saloon not on Market Street (MSSNOMS) (You like how it says "noms" at the end, don't you?)
So we went.
And let me tell you! That place is a SHIT SHOW. MSSNOMS = SS. Yes.
Because the bar is fairly new, the clientele hasn't exactly been established, and therefore it's every sumbitch for himself, apparently. There were the under-agers, the punks, the cowboys, the sorostitutes, the Navy boys, the skinheads... and us. Where we fit? I'm not quite sure. I am sure that I could have spent the entire evening without uttering a word and just watching the chaos around me. And the music selection? Oh dear baby Jesus. The DJ would go from "Shotz" by LMFAO to "Photograph" by Nickelback, to freaking country music. How does that make sense?! And where did he get his DJ degree? Sheesh. It jarred my brain every time a new song came on. At least he played "Single ladies" by Beyonce and I was able to do my rendition of her dance moves from the video. I know you're sad you missed that shit.
At one point, somewhat early in the evening, I noticed some dumb girl at the bar griping a couple of rags in one hand with her other hand strategically wiping the corner of her foul mouth. Bitch puked. All over the bar.
Bad enough right?
Wrong.
Bitch then proceeded to FIST BUMP everyone in sight for her aforementioned puke show.
We saw her later climbing onto the bar to dance. I anxiously awaited her plummet back to the puke-soaked concrete floor, however I was not granted this sight, as she managed to not fall somehow.
It gets better... later she was stumbling around, all zombie-like with googley eyes, with a tiny shot glass in her hand that she was sipping on like it was wine. Whichever group of men she would bump into she would stare at sideways and put up her fists like she wanted to fight them. Before she could vomit or perform a strip tease, her pretty, much-more-sober friend would come get her and guide her by the shoulders through the next group of victims to attempt to spare her dumbass any more embarrassment.
The saddest part about all of this? We all pretty much looked at each other in unanimous agreement - this little shit show of a drunk girl basically could have passed as my ex-best friend. And I used to be the tall pretty friend trying to save her from herself...
So on this Thanksgiving, I am most thankful for not having a shit show hooker trashcan of a friend that I have to babysit in the bar anymore. I am also thankful for the MSSNOMS for allowing me to witness the audacity that is MSSNOMS.
I'll count this as a win. Ah-thank you.
