Frickin' Steve-o's

So, my best friend and I went to Steve-o's last week for karaoke with some of the Big Louie's barflies. One of the barflies was totally talking it up, like it would be this great night of fun, so I talked my friend into trying it out.

What a frickin' joke.

First of all, it's a crappy dive bar with no windows. However, my friend commented that it was a lot cleaner than he expected it to be. But it still is a crappy dive, with the clientele you'd expect to see in a bar with no windows that serves 3-for-1's at 8am.

Second, worst... singing... EVER. And I mean EVER. Not a single singer I heard was anywhere near the frickin' melody. The very worst I heard was when a couple drunk chicks got up and completely butchered What's Up by 4 Non-Blondes. It was absolutely painful. And it hurt my ears even worse because it's a song I do from time to time at Big Louie's, and I do it well if I do say so myself. So to hear these dumb girls hack it apart was just sick.

The food was extra, extra greasy... close to inedible for me. We got chicken wings and potato skins, with a complimentary side of... GREASE. We couldn't finish it all, so we offered the rest to this one barfly friend who didn't get his order in before the kitchen closed. Well, you'd think he hadn't eaten all year. He tore into those wings like he'd been raised by wolves. I'm talking food flying, teeth bared, shaking the wings back and forth like they weren't quite dead yet, the works. I expected him to start snarling and then go outside to howl at the moon. I'm not sure he even took a breath between mouthfuls. I didn't know whether to look away in disgust or start laughing. I seriously wondered what would've happened if we'd decided we wanted the wings back. I have a feeling someone would've lost a few fingers or suffered a fang wound to the jugular.

The beer on "special" was a crapass beer served in a thimble. A $2.50 beer ain't a great deal when you get about a teaspoon of pisswater with an orange slice in it.

Needless to say, we didn't stay long. I apologized profusely to my friend all the way home for dragging him to that craphole . Honey, if you're reading this, once again: Sorry, Sorry, Sorry.

Well, at least now we know. I can say with complete certainty that we will never set foot in frickin' Steve-o's again in this lifetime. And I think that's about how long it will take to get Wolf Boy's wing eating display out of my nightmares.