D.C. Bar Review, Part Two

TGI Friday’s: Yes, I’m serious. Specifically the location off Pennsylvania Ave. at 21st and Eye. It’s a microcosm of D.C. – You have GWU undergrads showing up in giddy packs at all hours, desperately hoping to get away with ordering daiquiris, hardened locals who seem to be regulars or at the very least unemployed friends of the uber-casual, yet competent minority dominated serving staff, and tourists trying to summon up the liquid courage they need before heading over to Camelot, one of D.C.’s finer establishments for adult entertainment. Back in my nomadic days, when I called D.C. home and yet didn't have one here, I spent an entire afternoon at their bar after locking myself out of a fellow contributor’s adjacent apartment and found that I couldn’t help but hum Stevie Wonder & Paul McCartney’s delightfully tacky "Ebony and Ivory." I’ll explore this topic in future entries, but generally, there's an incredible amount of racial tension in D.C. and any environment that manages to put this aside for a few hours, no matter how mundane, deserves credit.

Perhaps more than anything else, even a hardened “foodie” will timidly admit that sometimes, you just get a hankering’ for that greasy, deep-fried, suburban corporate fare that is served to you in ginormous portions by somebody wearing a fake smile and excessive amounts of “flare.” Those tall domestics are also pretty clutch in a City where increasing hipness too often means getting a lot less for a lot more.

Washington Harbour: No rundown of D.C. bars would be complete without taking a cheap shot at the twin establishments found on the banks of the Potomac in Georgetown.



But I’m not going to do that. Rather, I’m going to accept them for what they are, remind people that despite what they may have heard, beers here are the standard $5, and that you are, in fact, paying for the scenery and ambiance. Why do people always talk about that like it’s a bad thing? I’d rather sit on the water, checking out cute joggers and their chocolate labs while waiting for the sun to dip down over the Rosslyn skyline and the lights to come on up river at the Watergate and Kennedy Center than be stuck in some dingy basement a la The Bottom Line. Escape from the humidity and enjoy the sights, sounds, and libations on a summer evening, and then head up Wisconsin for dinner at someplace with a little more local flare.

Irish Times: Certainly a sentimental favorite. Not only is it a CUA bar, not only does it host WAKA post-game flip-cup tournaments, not only do I suddenly have an in with one of their bartenders and his always entertaining girlfriend, and not only is former American Idol contestant/token slut Antonella Barbarella often partaking here, but they have one of the best weekend night atmospheres in the town. You can enjoy $2 Miller products (which can be purchased all around the room, not just at the bar) while taking in the musical stylings of Papa George. He’s everything you would want out of a bar’s melodic entertainment - A seemingly endless acoustic repertoire that offers both classic rock staples and funny, albeit skillful interpretations of modern Top 40 songs.

This place was so clutch when I was living on campus, as Union Station and its Red Line Metrorail stop is literally right across the street. My favorite night out of a (still young) 2008 culminated here, in a lush image that, as someone who pretends to be from Nashville might say, “painted a picture of my life and my dreams.” And as the countdown to WAKA Opening Day begins in earnest, I’m sure more great memories will be made here sooner rather than later. Melodrama aside, this one’s a keeper in the Birreria Paradiso and Big Hunt vein.



Hawk n’ Dove: A veritable D.C. institution; many claim this Capitol Hill tavern is the oldest in the District. Usually found on any cursory, Maxim/GQ/Esquire list of the best watering holes in America, this is THE place to follow “political football” – Congressional staffers, interns, and PolySci majors can be found convening here on any given weekday night during and election year; reacting to cable news the way one would react to an NFL game. Instead of busted traffic lights, old license plates, and taxidermists' handiwork on the walls, the chachki here is comprised of replicas of famous Presidential addresses and portraits.



Additionally, it's an unequivocal Green Bay Packers bar; the only one in the Diamond. Although I was limited to only two full games up there this season, it was almost surreal for this Jersey Boy to finally be caught up in fight songs and chants straight out of Wisconsin. Although the shots of Sambuca after every TD seemed like an odd choice and the bandwagoners got to be too much as the miracle season wore on, I’m grateful for this place’s very existence.

Its very location in the heart of the attractive Capitol Hill neighborhood also scores the place big points. Eastern Market, D.C.’s homage to Seattle’s famous Pike Place Market, is just down the road, solidly recovering from that 2006 fire. And the scores of coffee shops, used record stores, and bistros lend this area a perpetual Sunday morning feel. Sure enough, Sundays up on the Hill are something special – After chasing away Saturday night’s lingering effects with a few mimosas + greasy omelet, a copy of the Post, and a few “apology texts,” you'll be able to start the whole process over again after Aaron Rodgers can’t make it past the second series and your fantasy season goes up in smoke. The whole area is basically an entry out of 'Stuff White People Like'. And as the Class of 2000 begins to contemplate 30, that's really not such a bad thing...

On top of everything else, there’s always that great feeling when your drunken eyes spy the looming, glowing Capitol Rotunda, Supreme Court, Library of Congress, etc. for the first time in hours. Nothing makes you appreciate living in D.C. more than a few rounds at this old stalwart.

Buffalo Billiards: If the Hawk n’Dove has a subtle way of reminding you that you're privileged to live in the capital of the free world, this place reminds you that D.C. is still, at its historic heart, a decidedly Southern city. It has an iffy reputation among Tri-State transplants for their dirty tap lines and the kind of clientele it draws - Look no further than the fact that ‘Buck Hunter’ is one of the establishment’s most popular arcade games. This is the kind of place where bridge and tunnelers (Yes, they have them in D.C. too) can go and not worry about sticking out like a sore thumb. A lot of that has to do with the sprawling nature of the place, but most of it stems from the fact that there are so many diversions. Be it the satellite TVs during football season, the shuffleboard (PS - I dominate), darts, and yes, a seemingly infinite number of billiards tables, there’s always something else to do here. The bar menu is woefully concise and greasy and the beer list sub-standard at best – I rarely see anyone order anything except Miller Lites and Blue Moons here.

Even if you wouldn't dream of actually buying them a round, when suburban girls are trying too hard, it usually means they're scantily clad. And that certainly makes this "necessary evil of a bar" a bit more tolerable.

It’s located right across the street from the Dupont Circle Metro and near plenty of other decent places, so I’m not sure why I find myself ending a lot of nights there as opposed to kicking off things.


Capitol City Brewing Company:



For some reason, I’m always a bit surprised when I realize how receptive even Washingtonian elites are to this regional brewery/chain; it’s always packed to the gills at both locations come happy hour. It makes sense, though… The food has a reputation for its tastiness, diversity, and the bang you get for your buck, and the service is nothing short of personal and superb. Besides the appetizers, the real draw is, unsurprisingly, their original beers. The Prohibition Porter gets enough (well-deserved) credit, but I assume their Capitol Kolsch is what American macro breweries would churn out if making money/swill for those who give beer a less-than-classy reputation wasn’t an object.

Fado: It can be outrageously expensive and outrageously crowded. ALL THE TIME. I would chalk it up to the constant soccer matches playing on their paltry collection of TVs, but aside from a few transplanted Europeans in way-too-tight jerseys, nobody ever really seems to be paying attention to them. It also can’t be the repetitive Irish music, be it live or piped in, that everybody seems to ignore. It probably isn’t Monday night Quizzo either. The architecture is gimmicky and obtrusive more than anything else, the bathrooms too small, the bartenders too interested in chatting amongst themselves, even as the Verizon Center lets out and you can’t even breathe, let alone fight your way to the bar, and on top of everything else, it was recently revealed to be a chain. I didn’t even know chain bars existed outside of those sports bar/arcade joints. Call me a snob, but that tidbit just makes this place even more obnoxious than it already is.

On the plus side, I’ve always enjoyed this place MUCH more in the wee hours, and if you manage to get a table, it’s considerably more tolerable (albeit still too expensive). And its proximity to the Arena usually translates into not only easy access back to Eye Street, but "enthralling" 2am D List celebrity sightings. Jim Gaffigan, ladies and gentleman!

Brickskeller:



I wish it was as easy as “Dude. Thousands of bottled beers from thousands of different places. ‘Nuff said.” But sadly and predictably, it isn’t.

Unbelievably, it’s more of a restaurant than a bar, and that usually translates into lengthy waits to get in the door. Also, their collection is so vast, the servers usually are clueless as to what they actually have in stock on any given night. Nevertheless, it’s decidedly awesome to read Eric Asimov fawn over some craft brew from Oregon one minute and actually be able to taste it after nothing more than a quick jaunt up New Hampshire Ave.



Well, that’s it for now. Hopefully the warm months just around the corner will translate into me frequenting some of the more intriguing bars I’ve only been to once or twice and just an expansion of our drinking horizons in general – Scotch tastings capped by a visit to Ben's Chili Bowl
on the U Street Corridor, more Adams Morgan, more bowling + wings + "white trash mimosas (Miller Lite + Orange Tang) on the GWU Campus, and maybe even throwing a few back in the shadow of the National Shrine in my home away from Eye Street - Brookland. I've been told Washingtonians are quite legendary for their drinking, so there’s a good chance part three will be along quite soon. When in Rome, right?

Day 4, A.F.

After nearly 20 years following him, I obviously have a bit to say about Brett Favre's retirement from the Packers and professional football. And to the chagrin of fellow 'contributors' and readers alike, they're simply not going to fit into a witty, taut entry.

But I'm still working through all of it. Suffice to say, I'm simultaneously relieved, disgusted, dislocated, sad, and excited but definitely not ready for the Aaron Rodgers Era in Green Bay.

So for now, just enjoy this video. It's become a punchline in itself to say at this point, but the guy really was having fun out there.

Additionally, if one ever wonders what the dynamic between the three of us here on Eye Street is like, just picture myself and Bessie Stone as Favre and Moustachioed Hostelkeeper as an overwhelmed Andy Reid:

A Quasi-Solicited Rant for Moustachioed Hostelkeeper on Leap Day

Background Summary: Not only did the mainstream media ignore President Bush's recent trip to Africa, they seemingly went out of their way to avoid explaining why exactly our President is so beloved on the continent.

I think if you polled centrists such as myself - guys who are unfairly painted as "Hardcore Republicans" because they don't take juvenile cracks at the President every chance they get - you would realize pretty quickly that our perceived adoration for George W. Bush has nothing to do with an ignorant, blanket acceptance of all of his policies and politics and everything to do with the fact we don't think he's been given a fair shake outside of a few exceptional weeks in September 2001.

The fact that early on, even major news networks did things not unlike Letterman's Great Moments in Presidential Speeches wasn't a huge deal until it began to overshadow things like the Administration's superb handling of the Hainan Island Incident and an intelligent debate on NCLB.

But it really went to hell after the Taliban and a certain terror organization they were harboring were systematically removed from Afghanistan and scattered to the far corners of Waziristan, Iraq, and North Africa. Most rational people can't truly find fault in Bush's quasi-decision to spend a few extra minutes at that Florida elementary school on the morning of 9/11 in order to deliver a quick statement to the American people as the scope of the attack was revealed. But I'm often incredulous when I hear otherwise intelligent political junkies label Bush as 'asleep at the wheel' in August 2001. Any political romantic will always want the Commander in Chief to channel Harry Truman and his famous wooden sign, but in modern politics, to blame a President for the mistakes and oversights of countless field agents in countless organizations, both federal and civilian, reeks of partisanship. And just as ludicrous 9/11 conspiracy theories have to come to embody the collective inquest of confused, scared individuals attempting to explain the unexplainable, I feel the media's concerted, yet half-hearted attempt to turn an unremarkable memorandum that spoke of nothing more than Al-Qaeda's perpetual desire to inflict harm upon Americans into something much more significant than it actually was, at its core, speaks to that same haunting question - Why?

(Sidebar: I've always found it deliciously hypocritical that the same people who cite the infamous memo as an unforgivable failure of the Bush Administration are usually the same people who relentlessly mock the color-coded threat level system devised by the Department of Homeland Security. While even proponents of the system question its usefulness when an increased alert translates into increased resources and preventive measures being devoted not only to New York and Washington, but Boise and Billings; it's undoubtedly a case of erring on the side of caution when there's increased terrorist chatter and legitimate intelligence).

Eventually, the memo controversy gave way to another pseudo-story that hinged upon what where rumored to be intercepted radio communications between desperate/confused Al-Qaeda grunts and what sounded like the voice of Osama Bin Laden at the Battle of Tora Bora in December 2001 What most people seem to forget (including myself), is that this whole 'Tora Bora as infallible ammunition against what had only months earlier been the Administration's strong-suit' thing was borne and propagated out of the mouths of Gary Bernsten and Al Gore - One trying to sell a book, the other... Well, who the hell knows exactly what Al Gore's life was all about after he lost the White House and before he put together that infamous PowerPoint presentation?

After that story died down, the media was presented with an Afghanistan that was no longer ruled by the Taliban, where Al-Qaeda was relegated to the border region and a handful of 'death rattle' attacks after the thaw, and where for the first time in ages, the country is part of a global, democratic community. Instead of even categorizing Afghanistan as even a minor success, we only hear about the country when there's bad news, when a self-important Wolf Blitzer puts a smirk on and 'presses' GOP candidates on the whereabouts of a man who is logistically irrelevant (or dead), or when extreme left-wingers label it as nothing more than one of 'Bush's Wars,' whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. We all know Afghanistan is not an unbridled success – Again, violence increases every spring, even in Kabul, and although I’m not really sure coalition forces should be acting as DEA officers, the country's poppy production is increasing exponentially. But to outright ignore the positives here is unforgivable and indicative of a larger problem.

It's a similar story in Iraq. Everyone knows our plan of attack didn't account for the insurgency that would follow the initial military victory and toppling of the Hussein regime. These holes have been exploited relentlessly over the past few years with tragic results for Iraqis and American soldiers alike. But what was once an unmitigated disaster has recently turned into something much more optimistic. And this change can be measured in much more than the number of purple fingers journalists are getting - Numbers don’t lie, and the numbers, even if you are hesitant to say the surge has been successful, say violence is significantly down. But instead of zeroing in on this sea change; exploring the how and the why and what it all means to our future there, the media would rather ignore the story altogether.

To that end, I’ve listened to countless journalists tell me over the past few weeks of this Presidential election that healthcare is the most important issue facing voters this November. Healthcare. Just as it would have been unfathomable in September 2007 to say the Eli Manning would lead a Super Bowl-winning, 75 yard drive against Bill Belichick’s 18-0 New England Patriots, can you imagine what your reaction would have been in September 2001 if somebody told you healthcare would be the country’s biggest concern in 2008? Obviously, you would have assumed the US and her allies had fared well in quelling the threat posed by Islamic fundamentalism.

It just strikes me as odd that a national media which was so "responsible" in demanding the firing of Donald Rumsfeld, the capture of Uday And Qusay Hussein, free democratic elections, the capture of their father, the death of al-Zarqawi, the elimination of Al-Qaeda in Iraq’s free-reign and resources in the countryside, and finally a desire for General Petraeus and the Pentagon to formulate some sort of organized battle plan to tackle the insurgency head-on, is conspicuously silent now that of the benchmarks they took the liberty of creating for the Bush Administration have been met.

But the whole body is flawed, and every day provides a shining new example - Just look at their treatment of Fidel Castro's resignation. This is an event that we've been waiting 9 Presidents and half a century for and less than 24 hours after the fact CNN has deemed stories ranging from a lunar eclipse to Hello Kitty backpacks to Clinton snubbing Obama on a congratulatory call as more news-worthy. They know absolutely no shame.

Listen Mustachioed Hostelkeeper, we lived through the Lewinsky scandal, the "great shark attack outbreak of 2004," and countless other media circuses, so I know there's a lot wrong with the American media in its current form just as I know I'm naive to think that every man who seeks the Presidency is a decent man who genuinely has our country's best interests in mind. But when the media makes a concerted effort to ignore an Administration's successes (be it a result of their own individual politics or an ugly desire to boost ratings), it has a direct impact on how its consumers perceive the Presidency. Consequently, it has a direct impact on the future of this nation.

So nevermind the inroads we've made in Africa. Nevermind the aforementioned successes in Afghanistan and Iraq. Nevermind the fact that Al-Qaeda, however splintered it may be, has been denied the leadership, resources, and safe-havens that would be necessary to concoct an attack that could even come close to 9/11. Hell, let's even gloss over the fact there hasn't been any kind of domestic follow-up attack in 7 years with a laughably transparent "Well, terror attacks take a long time to plan" line. Nope, let's just pit everyone against each other so we can produce fluff pieces on how 'divisive' American politics has become, focus exclusively the negatives in Bush policy, and hold our breath until the general election (While doing everything in our power to make sure anyone who doesn't vote for our guy is embarrassed to even suggest they'd vote for Clinton, McCain, or Nader).

At the end of the day, this attitude is so much more than counterproductive, its ingenuous and dangerous. But maybe more than anything else, it's irresponsible. And isn't universal accountability that what the media is supposed to be about in the first place?

Good afternoon and good luck.

The Watergate

Its name is synonymous with the kind of slow-burning, excruciatingly public decay only a vintage Beltway political scandal can deliver. Of course, it was here where our disenchantment with the Presidency began in earnest; where the events that would eventually unravel both the political career and sanity of Richard M. Nixon were set in motion. 25 years later, a young White House intern at the heart of another major scandal that rocked the foundations of American politics would spend months in veritable hiding at her parents’ posh suite in the upper reaches of the South building.

Before the Watergate became infamous, it was famous. Its stark modernity and sophistication, which pervaded everything from its aesthetics to residents to clientele, garnered the Luigi Moretti creation international praise. Today, this sleekness has given way to an unshakable sense of irrelevancy - The architecture and décor is drab and dated, silver-haired residents toting toy poodles routinely go weeks at a time without leaving the grounds, the once luxurious hotel is indefinitely shuttered, and only a handful of stores remain in what was once an exclusive enclave of street-level boutiques. The sheer number of politicians, lobbyists, and social elite that called the Watergate home once lent it the nickname ‘White House West.’ Today, Cheney’s motorcade screams down Virginia Avenue in a daily blur while an endless stream of cabs carries well-heeled tourists to something newer, trendier, and generally more pertinent just around the bend in Georgetown. Even the incessant air traffic to and from Reagan National, just downriver, lends an unshakable feeling that time has passed this place by.

The splotchy grey concrete mirrors the inherent dreariness and melancholy of overcast days. And after the sun dips down over what has become a crowded Rosslyn skyline just across the Potomac, this feeling becomes palpable. It seems like every tenant turns in by 9pm; on this evening in particular, the flickering blue light of a television left on in some penthouse is about the only reminder that the building even exists. This certainly provides a contrast to the arresting luminosity of the adjacent George Washington University graduate dorm. Perpetually adorned with Christmas lights and homemade political signs, the building exudes youthful optimism (and, judging from the steady take-out delivery traffic, bad eating habits).

This contrast has not gone unnoticed by long-time Watergate residents, and on long lines at the Complex’s basement Safeway, they can barely contain their contempt for the encroaching youth. As annoying as the 'GW World' card and the havoc it wreaks on the store’s ancient cash registers can be, it is no reason to mutter curses under your breath; treat the cashiers in a sub-human matter. What is most striking about these daily passive aggressive battles is the fact Watergate residents are not ignorant to the all-inclusive deterioration, just indifferent. In a vestige of what once was, a sense of entitlement mixes with the quiet desperation of old age and we get a somber yet familiar view of what both the Watergate and the people who inhabit it have become – D.C. veterans unraveling before our very eyes.

D.C. Bar Review, 2007 - Part One

But what if it don't, Mustachioed Hostelkeeper? It'd make you like "Woah." Whoops! Did I say it out loud? Kill me - I'm serious like crazy.

Anyway...

The Big Hunt: Emerged as one of my favorites, especially when taking into consideration the 'urban bar geared towards a younger set' caricatures that surround it on Dupont Circle. The bartenders and staff seem to have a bit of an edge, but don’t let the piercings, tattoos, and general gruff fool you, they’ve always been quick and courteous to all comers. It’s usually refreshingly spacious and I’m thankful for both the upstairs patio and the simple fact they keep their dance floor completely separate from the rest of the bar. I guess the unisex bathrooms catch some grief, but that’s a small price to pay for their nice tap list, which ranges from hipster nectar PBR to pretty much everything Brooklyn Brewery, a personal favorite, puts out. They’re also apparently big on seasonal rotations, which is always a plus.

Lucky Bar: One of those special places that has you questioning, even after 3 or 4 drinks, if there just might be a more stimulating, productive way to spend your Saturday evening. You either have to be housed to have fun here or pretend like you are. The pseudo-dance floor in the perpetually packed back room is strictly not conducive to the following: Moving around, not having your drink spilled on you by the constant stream of drunks and busboys desperately trying to work their way through the hordes, actually being able to order a drink in under 25 minutes, avoiding 'women' in annoying drunk mode who want you to sing/dance along to whatever repetitive pop-rap "Soulja Boy" junk they’re looping, or hearing a single word your friend, standing 2 inches from your face, is saying.

The only saving grace is that its clientele is so lazy and/or committed to grinding up against the underage GWU coed next to them that they don’t realize there’s a small, semi-hidden bar upstairs near the restrooms that usually features a friendly, cute, and professional bar maid…You know, the kind who is quick, courteous, and makes sure the last guy to put a drink on your tab had permission.

Pizza/Birreria Paradiso: If you’re into pizza as much as I am, you probably put New York style, Chicago style, and 'gourmet' pizza into separate categories. This is not to say the latter isn’t absolutely sublime. When fresh, true Italian ingredients mix with a knowledgeable and attentive operation, it makes for a tantalizing treat in a City overrun with crappy pizza – This is the kind of pizza that sees you drizzle the crust in olive oil and dust it with parm and savor it on its own. The di Mare and Atomica come highly recommended from yours truly.

And of course, there’s the beer. Paradise is an apt description – They may only have 12-16 selections on tap at any given time, but there’s nary a Budweiser or Miller Lite to be found. With an emphasis on Belgian stalwarts and Domestic microbrews/handcrafted offerings, they take the ho-hum pizza + beer combination to brave new heights, indeed.

All this, and they just happen employ one of the most knowledgeable servers in the District, who will deliver it all to your table with complementary olives and a winning smile. Food and said server’s lackluster baseball Mii aside, this place is basically exhibit A for those self-denying snobs who argue that beer cannot be classy. The only real drawback are the tight quarters upstairs, which sometimes makes it seem like you’re eating out with what Zagat's would call a "mature" couple seated next to you. I'll just stick with calling them yuppies, thanks.

51st State: A bona fide dive. But it’s a local dive; literally just around the corner. And it’s presumably a great place to watch the Yankees in October (It’s a designated New York bar). Unfortunately, given the Bombers’ October fortunes of late, none of us have had the opportunity to take advantage. Endless $3 Yuenglings and other comparatively cheap domestics certainly make up for the sparse, downright inedible bar menu (Think Wonderbread and cold cuts) and that annoying 3-5 second gap between their HDTVs and regular sets which will have one section of the place groaning in reaction to an Eli Manning INT while the other half of the bar is optimistically cheering him on as he breaks the huddle.

Dr. Dremo's Taphouse: – The only bar outside of the District to make this preliminary list. Unfortunately, its prime location between two Metrorail stops on the Orange Line in Arlington County, on a hill overlooking the District to boot, eventually lead to its demise – After rumors, appeals, and delays that have been going on since I moved down here last June, its doors closed forever after last call this past Sunday morning to make way for luxury condominiums. For all intents and purposes, a lot of people liked the place because it was a dive – A place that had inexpensive drinks, eats, plenty of dirt cheap billiards and other bar games, no smoking ban, and cover bands aplenty.

But what separated this place from the other dives on the list is not just the sprawling space it occupied (an old Oldsmobile dealership), which allowed it have three separate rooms inside, a patio, and a beer garden-esque first floor bar. Nor was it the unique decoration (patrons sat on thrift store furniture and old arcade machines). Rather, it was the pride the owners and staff seemed to take in their endeavor – the 27 beer-long tap list was diverse and fresh and the menu surprisingly lengthy. They also had a limited, but tasty selection of beers of their own design. Although they’ve long since contracted brewing to the off-site Shenandoah Brewing Company, the ones I tried held their own. And one of them, their famous/infamous Chocolate Donut Beer (depends on who you ask, of course) is interesting and delicious to say the least – Imagine an Entenmann's Rich Frosted Donut, only in beer form! Here’s to these guys finding a new location soon...

Verizon Center Concession Stands: - As somebody who had grown accustomed to watered-down Bud Light exclusive beer stands in the upper reaches of that big stadium at 161st and River Ave. in the Bronx, I’m always pleasantly surprised by the comparatively endless 'adult beverage' options at modern arenas. 'The Phone Booth' is no exception. At a recent contest, I helped take my mind off the fact that I had shelled out way too much money to watch the Knicks take on a Hibachiless Wizards squad with higher end Domestics such as Sam Winter and Red Hook ESB. And at $7 a pop, it’s a veritable bargain.

J. Paul's: – I find the outrageous prices (I drunkenly scribbled out their D.C. address one night and wrote in 'Manhattan' in protest) much more annoying than these much-maligned but seldom seen fratty Hoyas that are rumored to stroll along the trendy streets of Georgetown by night, rumbling with those who affront them by wearing off-name brands and spending their vacations somewhere other than the Cape or Vineyard. While the actual drinking situation at J. Paul’s and other Georgetown bars usually leaves something to be desired, this place in particular is nothing if not a tasty middle ground for residents and visitors alike – It offers some good local seafood and their epicurean selection of sliders hits the spot for those of us who have had to deal with life without White Castle. In the heart of Georgetown not far off of Wisconsin and M, it manages to be unpretentious and distinctively 'chill,' which unfortunately serves as a contrast when trying out some of the more upscale bistros, eateries, and bars that litter the area.

RFD: – The initials stand for "Regional Food & Drink." Seriously. Uninspired moniker aside, this Chinatown Brickskeller satellite seems to be growing in popularity. And with an eclectic, borderline exotic tap list that beckons like an oasis in a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood where most establishments are either uber-hip or cater to the Verizon Center crowds by sticking to the Domestic + Domestic Light + Sierra Nevada + Stella Artois routine, why not? If you’re looking to grab a few local rounds after a game/match/concert/monster truck rally and concede you’re going to be paying out the nose for that convenience, it’s certainly a much better option than its more popular neighbor – Fado. As a bonus, the food, be it traditional bar fare or entrees, is more than serviceable and actually pretty unique as they try to integrate a lot of their draught beers.

What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas...

So, the last day has been very eventful.

-Heath Ledger was found dead in a Manhattan apartment.

-The Dow Jones opened down almost 400 pts, even after the Fed cut the key interest rate by 0.75%. It rallied to close down only 130 pts.

-And, Natasha Bedingfield released her second studio album in the U.S., Pocket Full of Sunshine. Reviews are mixed, but I do look forward to listening to the album. I've already enjoyed the first single from the album, Love Like This featuring Sean Kingston. Also, Not Givin' Up is a well done dance type song, worth a few listens.

The only thing that is disappointing to me is the fact that (I Wanna Have Your) Babies isn't included on this release. It was included in her second U.K. album, N.B., which was not released here. Concerning her decision to leave it off this album, she is quoted in the New York Post as saying "I always thought music should be fun. I wrote [(I Wanna Have Your) Babies] as a humorous, lighthearted look inside a girl's head, but it was taken so seriously by the press. I left it off of the American album because I just got tired of explaining it."

Poor Natasha and poor America, you're missing out. Enjoy the video here. Here's her website.