“You look mah-velous, darling.”

Oh well, here he goes again… your friendly bartender sounding like some kind of dinosaur. Yes, here he is, the stubborn T-Rex, bravely holding down the Barland tradition while fern-chomping young brontosauri scratch at the parapets. Is he justified? Probably not, progress and growth are inevitable, but how can he not call a spade a spade and bullshit not a cocktail, when an owner who’s selling some new fangled drinks is claiming they’re not just drinks but various skin toners. Or beauty enhancers. Or magic elixirs to ward off the ravages of age. And at twenty two dollars a pop for these drinks, gladly paid by his “A-List”, how can he not state that P.T. Barnum was right?

It has come to my attention via an article in The New York Times, that a place exists in lower Manhattan whose cocktails are not just cocktails that make you feel better, they make you look better. Or as Billy Crystal’s Fernando would say, “Look mah-velous!” And not just in one regard, dear reader, like giving you smoother skin than when you walked in, but in several regards according to the sunny promises. With one probing look at the cocktail menu broken down into categories… “Age-Defying, Firming, Replenishing, and Glow”… one would imagine she’s ladling The Fountain of Youth.

Now, do these bullshit cocktails work? Believe me, I’ll never know. If I’m paying twenty two bucks for a drink it better include a lap dance, or at least a bowl of pistachio’s shelled by a swimsuit model. But common sense tells me it’s gotta be bull and so did the prominent dermatologist contacted for the article. She said, “Nothing in a cocktail can give you younger skin.” Period, end of story. Unless the bartender throws in a goddam facial!

But it’s not just these bullshit claims that have me seeing a shade of red, it’s the haughty attitude displayed by one of the owners. He was recently miffed that a reviewer had stated, “in error”, according to him, “There’s an 18% chance that a random person arriving at the club could get in,” which caused him to swipe back in wounded fury, “If you can identify more than five civilians who have entered since we have been open, then I would be in awe.”

Excuse me? Civilians? I’m in fucking awe you would use that word, Sir. What is that about??? Is your “A-List” comprised of an army in there wearing uniforms? Do they bounce in fucking designer “camo” by Versace? Civilian is a terribly demeaning term to use when describing a customer, why not call them peons and get it over with? Or peasants? And while I’m on the subject, Mr. Aloe-Fucking-Vera-In-My-fucking-Daiquiri… (All right, calm down, Scrib, you’re getting yourself worked up here. Try and find some humor in all this nonsense, you’re better off!)

{Phew!} You’re right. Thanks, Conscience, I needed that. And there is some humor to be found now that I think of it…

See, the trickiest question I get in my job is, “What can you recommend for an after dinner drink?” Or, “In keeping with the theme of this bar, Sir, what can you recommend that’s a classic drink?” You know, the usual. But what the hell must go on, I wonder, in a bar that promises instant beauty and youth?

Let’s find out.

(The Setting: A bar in lower Manhattan which is arrayed in chrome and glass, and those are the customers!)

Bartender: Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Runway herself, Natty Natasha. You… look… fabulous!!!

Natasha: Oh stop it, I do not. Quick, what can you recommend to get rid of these bags?

Bartender: (Looking down at the floor.) What Bags?

Natasha: These bags under my eyes, whaddaya’ think?

Bartender: Oh! Well hang on, darlin’, I have just the thing. (He mixes) Here ya’ go, Natasha, try this. I call it my Mango Bango Bag-Away Tanqueray Flip. It’s made with mango, algae, vitamin E crystals and Tanqueray gin.

Natasha: Oh, thank you, thank you, you’re a doll. (She drinks, she enjoys, later she goes to the ladies room then she returns.) Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what a disaster!

Bartender: What? What’s the matter?

Natasha: I just looked into that bathroom mirror with all those damn bright lights and I’m a fright. I was out partying late last night and I didn’t realize how dry my skin looks today. I need help, now! This is an emergency.

Bartender: Not to worry, princess, just hang on. I’ll knock that out in a second and you’ll look like new. (He mixes.) Here, down this. I call it my Apricot Apres Night On The Town Surprise. It has apricot brandy…

Natasha: Never mind what’s in it, just gimme’ the damn thing! (She gulps.) Ahh, that’s de-lish, let’s hope it works.

(Natasha finishes this second drink and after a brief encounter with another model, she calls the bartender back with a sense of urgency.)

Natasha: That Kamoo is such a bitch, I could wring her fucking neck.”

Bartender: Now what?

Natasha: Do I look puffy to you?

Bartender: Are you kidding? You look like a dream.

Natasha: Well just to be on the safe side, because something made that bitch say it, whaddaya’ have that takes away any kind of puffiness?

Bartender: I’ll tell you what I have, I have this. (He mixes.) I call it Poof Goes The Puff Gritty Grog Of Gosling. It has a Gosling Rum base…

Natasha: I said I don’t need to know that, just hand it over! I’ll show that damn Kamoo who’s the puffy one. (She downs it in one drain.) Now how do I look? And {hic-cup!} tell me the truthhhhhh!

Bartender: You look, mah-velous, darling, absolutely mah-velous! (Now we hear a very a loud tumble and “thud”!)

Bartender: Security! Security! Natasha’s down again, call 911!!!!

(Or at least that’s how I see it going down in Chrome Land.)

Geez, it is better to see the humor than get myself all worked up, or at least it was in this case as I sit here smiling. That was fun. Humor is always the better way to go for it’s anger dressed up in clown clothes, and who wouldn’t rather see a clown than a big angry scold?

Now if I can only find the humor in those places that feature twenty TV’s… all blaring, all screaming, all blasting games at once along with the music.. I mean you can’t even hear yourself….

Ah, what’s the use? See ya’ next week-end, dear reader.

Til then,

Your lovable T-Rex

27 Responses to ““You look mah-velous, darling.””

  1. 1 MikeQ May 21, 2011 at 3:57 pm

    Scrib … you’ve done it again. You almost made me late for work (I still think I can make it.) Thought I’d check for your new post and once started I couldn’t stop reading. Great writing, .. a really funny, surigical dissection. They couldn’t leave it alone with “craft” drinks that take twenty minutes each to make (how many bartenders would be needed in a 300 capacity club?).
    Great stuff, Scrib. Many Kudos.

  2. 2 scribbler50 May 21, 2011 at 4:06 pm

    MikeQ: Thanks, man, now get thee to your bar and sling those drinks!

  3. 3 Donna B. May 21, 2011 at 8:33 pm

    hmm… I still think my alcohol-based health and beauty program works better — make sure the guy I’m with has plenty to drink and that I don’t 🙂

  4. 4 scribbler50 May 21, 2011 at 8:39 pm

    Donna: Now you don’t want him having too much to drink now do you? ‘Cause you want to make sure he’ll still be able to… ah, never mind, you know what you’re doing.
    Thanks, Donna! 🙂

  5. 5 Pharm Sci Grad May 21, 2011 at 9:11 pm

    PT was right, there’s no doubt about it. Unfortunately, there’s also quite a few folks out looking to make a buck off all of these suckers.

    If liking a bar where you can get a good drink which makes no promises as well as hear your companions well enough to carry on a conversation makes one a T-Rex… I’m one too I guess. 😛

    Glad to see you survived the rapture… 😉

  6. 6 Comrade PhysioProf May 21, 2011 at 10:26 pm

    Yeah, fucke those motherfucken “celebrity” assholes. I’d rather drive nails through my fucken dicke than pay attention to such douchebagges, and I’m relieved that no one knows who I am or gives a fucken shitte.

  7. 7 scribbler50 May 22, 2011 at 1:53 pm

    Sci Grad: No, you’d be a T-Roxanne! 🙂
    Glad you survived the rapture too, my friend.

    Comrade: Er-ah… I agree, I guess.

  8. 8 jc May 22, 2011 at 8:20 pm

    I’m afraid to find out what a jello shot does to my ass!

  9. 9 Chris May 22, 2011 at 11:10 pm

    I’m with Comrade. I can just picture some fuck face like one of the Trumps or some asshole like that there. Let them believe it if they like. Maybe they have a drink that will kill that dead animal that lives on Trumps head, or better yet something that will take some of the grease out of Donny Jr’s hair. Amazing how you can have all the money in the world and wear the finest clothes and still be a scum bag. Good post Scrib, don’t blame you for getting worked up.

  10. 10 scribbler50 May 23, 2011 at 7:23 am

    jc: There’s only one way to find out, but make sure you’re sitting down!

    chris: To add to the P.T. Barnum line, there’s also an asshole born every minute and one of them owns that bar.

  11. 11 Jennifer May 23, 2011 at 8:04 am

    Beer Goggles make everyone look better. 🙂

  12. 12 physiobabe May 23, 2011 at 10:57 am

    Welcome back, amante!

    Unsweetened Jello for those shots, JC.

  13. 13 scribbler50 May 23, 2011 at 11:47 am

    Jennifer: Perhaps I should pass them out then where I work. Keeping a make-up person on staff is costing me!

    physiobabe: Good to be back, my dear, especially after last week’s cop-out.

  14. 14 Anonymoustache May 23, 2011 at 8:28 pm

    Great post, bro!
    I think the ‘civilians’ ref in the interview was to drive up their traffic of exclusivity-loving pretentious douchebags who would pay a C-note for a donkey piss daiquiri, ‘cos, you know, some quack said it would rejuvenate them or some such crap and they can boast of having been at Club Ahh Soul. A variation on the trend of clubs that have no name or don’t advertize…the ones that you’re not welcome at if you’re not cool enough to have heard of their existence….but who spread the gossip around the street to drum up a traffic of suckers who’ll pay anything to be part of ‘the scene’. Anyway, anyone who believes that they can get health from a bottle deserves what he/she gets….

  15. 15 scribbler50 May 24, 2011 at 12:07 am

    Anonymoustache: As usual, you hit the nail on the head, it’s a variation on the “no name” clubs that seek to be known by acting like they want to be anonymous. And amazingly it works, the bullshit crowd flies in like moths to a flame!

    Although you ARE wrong about one thing, Sir… the “donkey piss daiquiri” goes for sixty dollars and not a C-note. You must’ve been thinking of the Llama Piss Sours which has to come in from Peru, ergo more expensive. 🙂

  16. 16 Anonymoustache May 24, 2011 at 7:08 am

    Hahahaha, good point! Like the ultra-expensive coffee beans from Indonesia that are actually crapped out by an animal (the palm civet, I think)….

  17. 17 Patsy May 24, 2011 at 11:57 am

    Hey Scrib! Long time reader, first time caller – wait that’s not right; discovering you 2 months ago and reading every single posting in that first sitting & been a loyal follower since is more the ticket!
    The more I read of mah-velous the more I thought of my own twisted adage: reverse beer goggles! I drink til I think I look good!

    See you behind the stick & keep on writing!

  18. 18 sourkraut May 24, 2011 at 12:21 pm

    Good one Scrib. But I wish there was a drink to get rid of the bags under my eyes. Think you could come up with something yourself?

  19. 19 scribbler50 May 24, 2011 at 1:12 pm

    Patsy: Welcome aboard and I sure appreciate the kind words! Keep on reading and I’ll keep on pouring, okay?

    sourkraut: How about sunglasses? 🙂
    But seriously, I have no ideas on any such remedies unless you take the ice from the glass and apply it to said bags.

  20. 20 Chris May 25, 2011 at 9:38 am

    Now is that ice from a mystical glacier in the arctic that holds secret powers of rejuvenation??

  21. 21 scribbler50 May 25, 2011 at 11:28 am

    Chris: Of course, thirty two bucks a cube!

  22. 22 brenda cullerton May 25, 2011 at 3:40 pm

    Aloe-fuckin-Vera is right, Scrib. I loathe the whole phenomenon almost as much as I do men who order Chardonnay. Great, great post!

  23. 23 scribbler50 May 25, 2011 at 4:55 pm

    brenda: I figured you’d like this post or at least the theme of it, no one has better radar for phonies than you do. Why it almost makes you want to sit down and write a novel about it. Oh wait, you did that!

    (Again, to anyone reading this comment, go to Brenda’s post and check out “The Craigslist Murders”.)


  24. 24 Isis the Scientist May 27, 2011 at 7:49 am

    Can you pour my martini with those teeny tiny arms?

  25. 25 scribbler50 May 27, 2011 at 8:26 am

    Isis: Hah! It took me a second to figure out what you meant. ‘Tis the mixing of your “tini” with my tiny T-Rex limbs of which you speak. Very funny! And though it does pose a few problems, like spearing those little olives with my giant claws, I’m sure I can put together a perfect “dirty” for you. Not to worry!

    Thanks for stepping back in time, old friend, I’ve missed you. 🙂

  26. 26 Ken May 29, 2011 at 6:54 pm

    Scrib: This is such an obvious, blatant scam that I can’t muster any sympathy for anyone who falls for it. Many good things can happen at bars, but only a boob would regard it as a spa. There is that half hour before closing effect, but that’s another thing altogether.

    As an aside, that remark about civilians was obnoxious. Back in my city hall days, when one of our fellow staffers was being a resistant to excepting some of the grimier realities of city government, we we would chide him or her: “You’re talking like a citizen.” This was just about the worst rebuke we could give each, but we directed at ourselves, who were supposed to be savvy about the way things worked, not “the citizens.”

  27. 27 scribbler50 May 30, 2011 at 10:17 am

    Ken: Civilians, citizens, same thing in this context… as if to be something other is “where it’s at”. Something better.

    By the way, funny you called this “scene” a spa because that’s exactly what the guy who wrote the article called it… “bar as day spa”. And I didn’t detect any tongue in his cheek when he said it. Amazing!

    Thanks, as always, Ken.

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