Showing posts with label Stank. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stank. Show all posts

Friday, September 10, 2010

Lit Lounge

93 2nd Ave (btw 5th & 6th)
New York, NY 10003
(212) 777-7987

Bathroom situation
- hold it in or go to Dempsey's down the street. Seriously, just..ugh. Fuck.
Takes credit cards? - yes, but do you really want your card sitting in the muck and the mire that accumulates on the counter-top here. Do you? Someone told us that that's how rubella got started back in the day [ed. damn, when was the last time you heard about some rubella?]
Crowded on weekends? - yes, and this is likely the main reason why this place reeks of sweat (among other similarly malodorous funks) 100% of the time. This place seriously must be fuckin' allergic to Glade Plug-ins.
Seating - the usual complement of chairs at the bar, a few tables in back and an egregiously out-of-place plush sofa downstairs. When Visceralist was here the other night there were 2 random dudes layin' out on the sofa like they were some damn maharishis and giving us the most laid-back mean mug we've seen this side of of a G-Dep video.
Neighborhood - smack-dab in the middle of what is likely the noisiest stretch of the East Village [ed. 'smack-dab?' really? is Heathcliff Huxtable ghostwriting this shit now?]
Pretentious/assholes - you know that thing where someone in a group of people a few feet away from you looks over at you, then looks back to their friends, rolls their eyes and laughs?
Cost of Stella - if you think for one single solitary minute that they clean their draft-to-keg tubes as regularly as they should, then I've got a 6 ft. tall invisible rabbit buddy to introduce you to [ed. OK, you've really gotta step up these references. The next category's entry had better reference something that's at least as current as the Obama administration.]
What time people start showing up - Beer o'clock! Now beer me that Smirnoff Ice so I can go Ice my brah.
Bartender efficiency - actually, not terrible. Just don't make hand-contact...and hold your glass/bottle with a napkin separating your dermis from anything his hand may have touched. The more you know!
Official Website - here. They have a list of "Bands Hoove Played" there. Yes, "hoove." Give to your local Parent-Teacher Association, people.
Food? How late - remember when they used to call puking "hurling" in the 90s...and then that sort of got sublimated into "erlin'" in the early '00s.
TVs? What's on - if they don't have the budget for toilet paper in the bathrooms or even a damn bottle of Pine Sol, why in the fuck would they have a TV going.
Guy:girl ratio - generally 50:50 and probably the only reason people still come here is that it does tend to attract a fair share of better-than-your-average looking young folk...talkin' 'bout their young stuff.
Toys - there's a stripper pole downstairs. Oh, also, they allegedly let people smoke whatever they please til whenever in the morning.
Age of clientele - too young to give a shit and/or know any better. Just remember kids, lust is fleeting, but those bumps'll come back every fall like the NBA.
Space for dancing? - jeah jeah jeah jeah. This is actually mostly what this place is known for. Kids stay gettin' it crackin' on the dance floor...downstairs and upstairs.
Music medium, style & volume - they have loud-as-omg bands downstairs every so often, but usually the music emanates from both the upstairs and downstairs DJ booths. Apparently, Telly from Kids and Johnny from the Wire spin on Saturday nights.
Specials or most popular drink - seriously, it smells like foot funk mixed with skunk farts in here most of the time. Grimey as all hell. They should change their name from Lit Lounge to Grimey as A Bucket of Ballsack Lounge. SMH.

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