NY Barfly

Drink of the Week: We don’t care what it is, as long as it’s purple and laden with alcohol.

To a proper Barfly, the colors of the drink Rainbow can get oh-so tiresome. When we were a wee-little Barfly studying the color-wheel, we imagined that there were endless hues to be mixed from the three primary colors - gin, vodka and vermouth (we went to a very progressive learning institute, instead of nap time we had Limoncello mixers).

But, the drink menu of the present day never varies from the same sorry standards. There’s margarita green for when you need to make grass on your drawing. There’s brandy brown for the unspeakable things underneath the grass. There is also that unique color of grain alcohol that they used to call “Injun red”. Alas, we are now forced to refer to it as “yellowish”. Enough alcoholism on the reservation sure ruins all the fun.

We were just about to give up our quest for color and pour all of our spirits into the same glass. We would call our new pigment maudlin mauve and drink it because we were feeling blue.

At the last minute, we thought to look in a very unlikely place for some inspiration: our cupboard of nutritious things. We decided that we couldn’t drink flax seeds and that all of those iron-ore flakes were far too crass. And then we saw it, beckoning to us like invisible indigo: Purple.

Just what we needed – a color, and yet a drink. This health-conscious beverage (using what we assume are the powers of a Genie) combines the exotic acai berry with six other fruits. It’s perfect for color-fying martinis, margaritas, mojitios and all the other cocktails under the drunken rainbow.

In fact, it has a grand total of 7 antioxidants – it is no coincidence that this happens to be the same number as colors in the spectrum. As far as we can tell, it is a coincidence that this is the same as the number of dwarves, deadly sins, and purple drinks that took to get us feeling “back to normal”.

The best part about drinking this luxurious new color? When we toast to our health, we can actually believe it. It's such a refreshing change of pace not to have our liver snicker ever time we raise our glass.

Drink of the Week: Spring Fever!

Ahhh, the warmth . . . What is that? The seasons have changed? No, we meant the warmth of the champagne hitting our luxurious belly. Wait. We’re drinking champagne? The seasons have changed indeed!

New York in the spring is like Emily Dickinson in the deep and lonely winter: positively in a tizzy. People are talking about cleaning their apartments, about getting new jobs, about finally getting rid of that pesky significant other that’s been following them around for the past 6 years. And, the best part of the new season? Everyone just goes drinking instead!

Yes Ms. Dickinson – we are far to inebriated to stop for death. The only stops that we plan on making this spring are for drunk pizza and when we steal that lady’s adorable puppy while she’s busy flirting with the mailman. When our spry little friend is let out of the sac at home, we can truly bask in the warmth. What is spring without teething new life gnawing on our balustrades?

Hopefully the poetesses among you can get a glimpse of how lovely the warm months can be. Peep at us through your pane glass window. Barfly beckons you – come outside. Loosen up your corset, get a breath of that fresh and sunny air, think for a few moments of all the positive changes that you are going to make happen. Then, exhale and join us at the bar. We all know that the only two things really change: the seasons, and our alcoholic state.

We leave you with a patented Barfly cocktail that is perfect for carriage rides with drunken immortality. As you mix, please know no haste.

Spring Fever! (also known as Its Springtime! and Its just not working, I think its time for a trial separation!):

1 optimistic new goal

A bottle of your favorite alcohol, infused with grass

Nest full of baby birds

Lay on the ground, preferably on a sunny day. Look into the sky, and choose whatever cloud looks the most like your secret dream. If still hung-over from winter, adamantly nod and say “that one!” when you spy the fluffiest.

Start taking swigs from bottle of grass vodka. Claim the cellulose reminds you of “skipping in fields during childhood”. Forget the facts that when you saw someone skipping, you reflexively broke their jaw (thank god they weren’t frolicking). And yes, the abandoned lot full of hobos counts as a field.

Bring nest of baby birds adjacent to your ear and listen to their gleeful song (be prepared to vigorously shake nest until desired result is produced). Sip, and feel all of the grey pessimism of winter slip away. They call it spring cleaning for a reason.

Drink of the Week: Mommy's Time Out

Next time you get annoyed at the youngun’s incessant questions (does anyone really know why the stupid sky is blue) it might be time to take a breath and give yourself a much deserved time out. Plop the kid in front of flat screen idiot box while you grab the wine key and huddle in the corner. A few sips of Mommy’s Time Out Pinot Grigio and you’ll forget all about the stressful intricacies of making a bathtub drowning look accidental.

This crisp and refreshing wine pairs perfectly with chicken, fish, and strained peas. If your little loved one still refuses to give you quiet time, explain to them that “Mommy needs her sippy cup too” as you lock them in that special cupboard that you keep for particularly soothing moments.

In especially good news for single mothers, a few of the more progressive states allow cases of this to be given in lieu of child support checks. The vintner tried to introduce a similar version for men called “Daddy’s Time Away” but it underperformed when daddy’s secretary felt threatened in her diversionary role and kept harping “More time away? You don’t really love me at all, do you?”

Though we ourselves are not a parent, we’ve decided that Mommy’s Time Out wine wins drink of the week. Even though there might not be the pitter patter of little feet warming all of our homes, we can all use a time out. And, most importantly, we are always looking for a good excuse to get back in touch with the happy memories of our youth, like tearfully huddling in the corner with a ba ba.

Drink of the Week: Four Buck Chuck

It’s hard to be a proper wino these days. They typical American consumer has caught on to formerly “effete” European habits such as wine drinking and the acknowledgement of global warming. The price of vino has inched up so that it excludes your less-than-sophisticated ‘everyday’ drunkard (i.e the fellow on the corner who uses 1/3 of his disability check exclusively on PBR).

Poor guy. He used to grab a magnum of cheap swill and saddle up to the gutter (especially comfortable due to his missing limbs). Now he’s been priced out by the Mondavis of the wine world. Even if he did have a few bills wadded in his pocket, he would never know what to choose. It used to be a simple choice between “goddamn red” and “frickin white”. Today, there are far too many wackadoo varieties available. Bianchi? Rouge? How is one supposed to understand such foreign gobbledygook through the squinty eyes of a failed existence?

Fear not, everyday drunkard! We have found a way for you to imbibe your disability money while still projecting an aura of phony sophistication. Like many other modern ails, the problem has been cured by today’s only true superhero: the upscale grocery chain.

Trader Joe’s, a chain that specializes in affordable gourmet goods, has reignited the low cost wine market with their trendy Four Buck Chuck. What does four dollars get you these days? An unadorned bottle, a number of drinkable varietals, and your low-cost lover back in your arms forever. $12.00 for a thirst quenching threesome? We dare you to find a better price for that this side of a Singaporean elementary school.

So, Barfly announces Four Buck Chuck as our current Drink of the Week. Put down that 40-ouncer of Old English and rush to your local Trader Joes this very minute. Indeed, as we write, we are sipping on some of their Sauvignon Blanc. We are certain that we made the right choice for two reasons:

1. It tastes just like real Sauvignon Blanc (well, maybe with three packets of Equal mixed in).

2. With prices like these we can all afford to be a wino for a day. No excuses. Yes, liver cancer counts as an excuse. Now, off to the gutter! Everyone!

Drink of the Week: Indian Blood

We relish what may be our favorite holiday today for one very meaningful reason. No, not the "giving" of "thanks" - we're not some tiresome protestant bore that can only express a bit of gratitude when stuffed with dead bird and box wine. Today is the one day a year when it is acceptable to polish up our shoe buckles and wear them outside the house.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, they are truly glorious. And, they are authentic. Barfly's ancestors have been 'colonizing' dinner parties for a long time in this great nation. We've traced our family tree all the way to an 17th century pub owner (olde English for grave robber) known to the Plymouth colony as 'Gippy'. We know him as our Great Great Great Great Gippy - and we have him to thank for our lovely shoe fastenings (not to mention the genuine pilgrim skulls that join us each year for dinner - they sure love candied yams).

Before we join jolly skeleton Palmer and chaste rib-cage Prudence (we suspect she has a saucy side underneath that bonnet) for some yummy string bean casserole, we decided that we should provide some thanks on this sacred secular day. So, who gets the award this year?

Hmmm. . . this is harder than we expected. . .. our readers should be thanking us for every ribald syllable (please make checks payable to the Seagram’s Corporation as we are forever - i.e. $42,000 - in their debt). We could thank martinis, but Thanksgiving is more of a hot toddy sort of day. Gippy knows that we love his wretched old soul. The pilgrims have already been exalted for eradicating the area of the pesky red man (our nomination for invention of the new world = the smallpox blanket - so cozy, so deadly - American ingenuity at its best).

Well, there is only one solution to this quandary. This Thanksgiving, we thank ourselves, and we suggest all of you stop the namby-pamby nonsense involving 'families' and follow suit. This way, you get to drink the entire box of wine yourself.

So, thank you Barfly. Your dazzling personality provides more nourishment than this dried out turkey ever could. Not to mention your charisma, and your . . . Prudence, was that a blush that we just saw flash across your cheek? No need to giggle our pet. Why don't you have a nip of wine to sooth you. Oh, thank you, we love our shoe clasps as well, indeed they are precious silver . . . .

TGI Friday's: The Ultimate Drink of the Week.

Barfly’s drink this week was inspired by a visit to one of our favorite culinary palaces: a New Jersey TGI Friday’s. Yes reader, please calm down. We heard you gasp over your Barolo reduction sauce and pan seared venison. We wouldn’t want you choking on your fancy food – you’ve already maxed out your credit card on that fennel sorbet desert. How on earth do you expect to pay the medical bills (you know those shifty Frenchmen waiters just love breaking ribs when they administer the Heimlich).

What makes a trashy chain restaurant the fodder for our drink of the week? Their mass produced burgers may be overcooked but their use of adjectives makes this week’s libation truly succulent. (Oh, and also tchotchkes. Barfly likes tchotchkes. Barfly LOVES tchotchkes when they’re stapled to the wall.)

Check out how Friday’s spices up some of the banal cocktails. Keep in mind that these would surely under whelm if they were served along side that Bruni endorsed Goulash that you had to wait 3 years to taste:

The Long Island Iced Tea becomes the ULTIMATE Long Island iced tea.

The typically fruity (in more ways than one) Mango Berry Daiquiri becomes the ULTIMATE Mango Berry Daiquiri. Take that gay jokes!

The (yawn) margarita becomes the ULTIMATE Margarita. Also available as the ULTIMATE Margarita – Platinum. We’re not sure of the difference, but we suppose one appears on the kiddie menu.

Yes, we understand that it’s really only one adjective that our friendly chain is using to excite it’s patrons. You can sit there and scoff all you want as you sip your HALFHEARTED Pinot Noir and SLIGHTLY DISAPPOINTING BUT STILL DRINKABLE Sidecar. We’re going to happy town for a change. From now on, every watered down cocktail served in a glass as big as an infant’s head is going to be the ULTIMATE experience of our sorry existence.

Drink of the week: The Ultimate Whatever (why did we have to choose that moment to spill martini on the caps lock):

One pint glass full of your favorite bottom shelf brand.

A favored thesaurus.

Those precious moments dolls that grandma gave you when she started to lose it.

Pour favored alcohol into pint glass with ice. Look up as many synonyms for ULTIMATE as you’d like and say sentences like “This is the DEFINITIVE drink of my adulthood. This is the GREATEST crappy cocktail that I’ve had in the past hour. I am at the APEX of drinking, boo-yah!”

For a true Friday’s feel, haphazardly adhere moments dolls to walls. Admire them. As you finish off your cocktail, take a moment and reflect. “That precious moment doll does remind me a bit of my graduation. It was the ULTIMATE accomplishment. I’m really, uh, glad where everything ended up. Yeah, um, I guess. Wow, I think its time for another drink. ULTIMATE!!!”

Bud Extra - Drink of the half-assed / mildly bored Beer Gods

The seasonal change is setting in, and Barfly is sleepy. Should we lay down and form a cocoon out of empty cases of Long Island wine? Nah – we want to stay out until we die of frostbite (just like that into the wild kid, he was like, totally real) in the mid January chill. We’ll just wipe this disgustingly attractive gunk from the corner of our eye and get going. We just need a little jolt, a kick in our silky drunken pants. We suppose we’ll do what we do best, ask the Beer Gods (forget the proper capitalization and be doomed to drink Zima for the rest of your existence).

Prepare to behold a mystical experience (role of Beer Gods will be played by ITALICIZED TYPE!):

"Beer Gods, we summon you. The magic 8 ball exhausts us. Help us make a decision”

"Barfly, you’ve bothered us too much. Always with your questions. Have you tried the magic date ball?”

“We did try it. We don’t understand how ‘Seems unlikely, you pervert’ is supposed to be helpful advice? What should we drink! “

“We don’t know Barfly. You should ask the Irish coffee gods. Beer and caffeine, not a pious combination.”

“We tried to ask those other gods. They were busy beating their wives. Guide us.”

“Just do what you usually do. A spoonful of the coffee grinds from yesterday’s pot sounds scrumptious.”

“We’re not hung-over. We retain our sense of taste. We must have beer. BEER” (we beat our chest as we said this, in case our friendly deity didn’t get the point).

“Why are you doing a monkey impression?”

“It’s not a monkey impression. It’s a metaphor for our beer related enthusiasm. BEER”

“Ok barfly, Ok. We’ll suppose give you something. Just do the monkey a bit more. What a cute monkey. Yes you are. Yes you are.”

We started heaving some, well, we don’t want to focus too much on our divine gorilla impersonation. We’ll just focus on the drink that was cracked open by our heavenly friend. Beer God finally ponied up some Bud Extra. He gave us interesting tidbits to mull over as we got hopped up on this energy juice.

• Bud has come up with a catchy catch-phrase to promote the diverse uses of their Extra: Pour it. Mix it. Shake it. Drink it. This mirrors the new slogan recently used to promote the flavor of Bud Select: Heave it. Hurl it. Puke it. Barf it.
• The Budweiser company encourages drinkers to pour the beverage over ice. This way the drinker can hold the glass and say sophisticated things like “look at me, I’m a lady.”
• In addition to caffeine, the drink contains ginseng and guarana. The caffeine stimulates the brain, the alcohol relaxes you, the ginseng smoothes out the caffeine, and the guarana balances the four lines you just snorted.
• Perfect for soccer practice. You have to make varsity some how.

“Thank you Beer God. This is only the third worst beverage that we’ve ever had. Much better than Bud Ice.”

"We thought you’d like it Barfly. We love that you’d drink antifreeze if it tasted like beer. You’re one adorable monkey.”

”By the way, how is Beer Jesus.”

"He’s busy trying to turn Coors Light into Stella. Well, that’s whenever you can pull him away from his blog. How is it spreading the good word if only 12 people a day read it?”

Shout out Beer Jesus! With numbers like those, we’re apparently pretty religious ourselves!

Drink of the Week: Bedbug Edition.

Living the glamorous life as we do, Barfly is used to a few hangers-on. As much as we like this attention we must admit that it mildly put us off the other evening. A group of these little friends showed up for an impromptu dinner party. Always the gracious host, we played along: “Simply marvelous. What do we want to eat? Shall we have Habib (our in house manservant) cook something up”?

They looked at us, with their beady invisible movements, and informed: “Blood, we want to eat your delicious pickled blood. Sucking sound, sucking sound, hahahahaha.” How undeniably crass. Habib practically fainted. Or maybe it was one of those religious things that he does. It’s all so exhausting to keep track of.

We do suppose it could have been worse. They could have said pot luck. Yes Littlefly, we still haven’t forgiven you for your vegan and eco-conscious “tofutti”. Then again, you aren’t reading this, as the only recipe that Barfly cooks up for such events is a banned I.P. address (with a dash of salt, thrown into the wound).

So, what to do about the little guests? Our hosting skills are being worn down, and our reclusive rent-controlled neighbor is beginning to tire of all the noise (Madame, we do ask you to remember it was you that buzzed them in to begin with. They originally were calling on your 13 cats and 2 macaws. Indeed.).

We’ve decided to do what we do best, make up a signature cocktail to celebrate their visit. Then, when they are lulled into a drowsy drunkenness, we’ll do what we do second best: eradicate them. Good thing we’ve been practicing with those pesky Jews!

The DEET: (Drink Everything Every Time) –

1 Pigs rump

1 Syringe

2 Quarts Blood Infused Vodka (Blodka, Transylvanian sister of Nodka)

1 Exterminator, preferably named Manny (Ace or YoYo also acceptable).

To be served as the final drink of the evening, around 3 or 4 AM. Inject pig’s rump with the Blodka. Lay rump in bed. Sleep in bathtub and curse all that exists as neighbor’s macaw repeatedly screeches “pretty bird” throughout the wee morning hours. When the sun rises, your guests will be busy dealing with their engorgement. Let Manny in. Exclaim “Go to town Manny. This party’s over!” Garnish with “Boo-yah!” or a stately “die little fuckers!” if you please.

Bartender’s Note: When you’re basking in victory and trying some of that Blodka yourself, don’t panic when you inevitably think “Habib, oh god, he’s still there, the chemicals, he’s DOOMED!”. He’ll be just fine. He’s already a Eunuch. You paid half price for a reason.

Drinks of the Week: Accio Butterbeer! Accio Firewhisky!

Barfly understands that our readers haven’t been able to check in this past week. You’ve all been busy burrowing your nose into a certain tale with a pedophile’s focus and adoration. While we’re sure that your favorite boy wizard is fascinating you with his “broomstick”, not to mention his “wand”, what struck Barfly about the recent incarnation of he-who-has eclipsed-God-as-the-most popular-fictional-character is the amount of underage drinking sprinkled throughout the blog. Wait, that’s not right. We mean sprinkled throughout the (we’re not quite sure how to pronounce this, silly Rowling conjuring up magical new words) – “book”.

No longer content with the cuddly charms of blast-end skwerts, our teenage heroes have made the logical jump to the bottle. After all, mommy and daddy aren’t home to monitor the keys to the liquor cabinet. They’ve been brutally murdered by the world’s most powerful dark wizard. As any child of the muggle suburbs knows, this can only mean one thing: Par-TAY!

And, why not have a little fun? Studying for the SAT’s, avenging your parents death while the fate of the entire wizarding world rests on your shoulders, girls – the perils of young adult hood are many. Barfly doesn’t blame Harry & Co for indulging in a little drinky drink after performing those exhausting spells. We encourage our readers to indulge Potter style this week. Empathize with your inner wizard as you sip and suddenly realize that the elf in the corner that you’ve been talking to all these years can finally be ascribed to, er, magic.

What’s your magic potion?:

Butterbeer

– A bucket of these makes a perfect summer treat. Kick back and have a few with the house elves. You’ll be sure to learn the deep dark secrets of your family tree (you always knew your cousin was a big ho). But, be careful who else you share with. One in four veterinarians have admitted to treating a Hippogriff for drunkenness. The proper ratio is one butterbeer for every four dead ferrets that you feed them.

Firewhisky – When you’re feeling a bit more broody, have a sip. It will help you sort out your issues. Be careful though, as too much sorting might lead you to wake up on the bathroom floor with bits of patronus all overt the toilet. You’ll have a smashing headache and feel a bit queezy as you remember what you signed up for the previous night. Saving the world surely is a hard act to follow, don’t have too many regrets, you had to do something.

Drink of the Week: Independence

Now kids, why would you expect Barfly to tell you what to drink on this glorious week? Four score and seven shots ago, our fore fathers founded a great nation on this very day. Perhaps if we were still under British rule you would look to an educated charlatan like Barfly to tell you what to imbibe. But, when they signed that declaration thingy, those rebellious dudes had a few freedoms in mind. Hundreds of years later we are able to mock those who buy hybrids, let Disney trample our copyright laws (Mickey is a true patriot), and chose to drink whatever the fuck we want. Take that European Union. Wine is for sissies. Boo-yah!

So, readers, what does freedom taste like to you? We’ve listed some favorites because, even though we would never tell you what to sip in this beautiful republic, some drinks are more patriotic than others.

An ice cold Coors – As refreshing as the water the border agent hands to the Mexican he detained near the Rio Grande. Better enjoy it while its cold, there is nothing quite so thirst quenching when you and your bride are shipped back to Gudalajara short the $4,000 you paid to the human traffickers.

Mojito – Thought we were serious, did you Commie?

O’Doul’s – What the current leader of our nation drinks. Sip one on this day in his honor. This particular can beverage can also be enjoyed in a frosted mug or water boarded down your gullet. A no-brainer to us.

There is some help to get started. We’re sure that whatever you come up with will be an appropriate libation for this special day (except anything with Gin, then you’re a red coat).

And remember, a true patriot will have a few too many of their independence cocktails and blow their second and fifth digits off with a proper American M-80. When you’re on your way to the emergency room, know that your sacrifice was for a good cause. We don’t want the terrorists to think they’re winning, now do we?