Sometimes you just want to see a bunch of guys up on a stage sing female rock and pop anthems. When that bunch of guys just happens to be The Dan Band you know you’re in for a rollicking good time with plenty of laughs thrown in. I was lucky enough to have scored a few blogger press passes for last night’s opening show of their four date residency at the fabulous Stage 48 event space. Dan Finnerty and his group of hired guns certainly did not disappoint while whipping the crowd into a frenzy of guffaws and sing alongs.
Words just can’t describe my new found love for this craptacular bar! I mean, it has a freaking toilet as it’s profile picture on review sites. How can you not love a dive bar that gives new meaning to what a dive is supposed to be about? Oddly unique, yet you feel afraid for your safety just a bit, but still drawn to it like a drug addict trapped in a crack house.
Um, what is this dark weird little fake bar before a bar that you have to pass through to get to The Duck? Is this a dive speakeasy kind of thing? Some beefy dude at the door checks your ID and lets you in. You meander through the empty faux bar in front to get to the entrance of the real bar.
Then it hits you when you walk in. What is this wonderful place that looks like a hospital or insane asylum basement dorm room decorated in the most makeshift way? It’s almost as if a bunch of drunk college kids watched Animal House and decided to make mom and dad’s basement a dive bar with crap they found on the side of the road or in a dumpster. There are wires, cables, extension cords, and surge protectors hanging all over the place. One short and the place goes up in a burst of flame! Beer signage, strange memorabilia, and old discarded bras hang on the wall and ceiling. Christmas lights. A few tables and chairs to sit at next to the bar. A pool table in front of a large projection flat screen from 1990 which I think is broken. Continue reading I love The Duck – a trashy weirdo dive bar in NYC!
I really hate myself at times like this. Why do I put myself in a position to be sitting in front of a mountain of hot greasy potato goodness after doing countless reps in the gym and laps on the treadmill? Why am I force feeding my face in a frenzy of delicious sauce covered fries with no end in sight? Why are my arteries screaming bloody murder? “No mas! No mas!” they scream, but I am deaf to their cries. All I want to do is sit here in carbohydrate bliss and eat my Pommes Frites!
HELLZ YEAH! Delicious hot Belgian frites and a gazillion tasty sauces to dip into! Calories be damned! This is FAT-ASTICAL!!! Continue reading Fat-astical NYC Frites Frenzy! In Mah Belly!