Thursday, March 4th, 2010—Bar 53
Day 53—Wednesday, March 3rd
Coffee Shop Bar
Okay, I have to admit to being completely in a bad mood and grumped to the fucking gills right now. I’m still at work and it’s getting late. Nothing has gone right tonight at work and I’m putting in over a twelve hour shift. I’m afraid the bar I originally chose may be closed by the time I get there. It’s always dicey after 1:00 in the morning, because even if you call, if it empties out all the sudden, they usually shut the joint down on weeknights. I don’t want to waste the time or the cab fare, plus I’m tired and I”m really not in the mood to do this.
There’s a bar right down the street from where I live that’s always open til 4am. That’s the good news. The bad news? It’s the Coffee Shop Bar. I haven’t been in this place in quite some time, in fact I reviewed it for my “99 Beers Off The Wall” book years ago and I didn’t give it a very good review. Okay, I gave it a horrible review. The people that come in here are pretentious and act like they’re all that and they’re really just a bunch of fucking losers, drowning their sorrows because they’re not on some vapid-ass reality show. Again, I haven’t been inside this joint in a long time, but I walk by it almost everyday and I don’t think much has changed. Most of the people I see going in make me want to puke right in my left boot. But due to the time of the night, I don’t have an alternative, so let’s go. Hopefully it won’t be that bad.
Here we are, the Coffee Shop Bar. One of the things I hate about this place is the name itself. It doesn’t make sense, sure they sell coffee in here, but it’s a fucking bar, not a coffee shop and it’s not even set up to look like a coffee shop. It would be like calling a coffee shop, The Bar Coffee Shop and then the shop has fuck-all to do with bars. I’m pissed off already and I haven’t even set foot in this fucking joint. I mentioned I’m in a really bad fucking mood, right?
Oh; boy, already I’m greeted with a jerk-off vibe in this place, bad techno music is playing and I wish I wan’t in here. And what’s going on with her? Is she trying to get everyone to look up? There’s two bartenders on duty one a good looking brunette woman and a bald pretty boy. Just my luck I get the bald pretty boy. I have to confess, he was nice enough, but I still didn’t feel like going through my 365 spiel with him. I’ll start with some of the people in the bar after this beer.
(Five minutes later.) Alright fuck this, I’m outta here. I know the rule is I’m supposed to have three drinks, but I’m bending the rules because I’m so fucking pissed off right now, I’m afraid I’m going to go off on someone and wind up in jail. I was here for a half an hour and that’s the equivalent of spending an eternity in a hot little saloon I like to call hell. Here’s what really tripped me from being in a bad mood to being in a mood so god-awful horrific that I wanted to rip the liver out of every prententious prick in this shithole and serve it up with some fava beans and a nice chianti. What happened was I was going to try and take some pictures of some people and make something usable out of this visit. I saw a woman standing near the yellow phone booths outside of the bathrooms and approached her. She was a brunette with a 70’s style Jane Fonda shag hairdo with too much makeup and it was obvious she can’t hold her booze. She looked pretty fucked up. I went up, took out my card and said my usual spiel I say when I ask someone to take their picture. I gave the her a card and said, “Hi, I’m going to 365 bars in 365 days and I’m documenting it with pictures from the bar and people inside it, could I take a picture of you?”
And with this, she puts her hand up in the air and drunkenly says, “No pictures!” Like she’s the female version of Sean Penn. So I laughed and said, “Hey, settle down, it’s not like I’m the paparazzi.”
And she drunkenly replies, “You could’ve fooled me!”
This fucking drunken hosebag thinks that a member of the paparazzi would be tailing her sorry inebriated ass? How fucking delusional can you get? “No pictures!” What the fuck? She should be thanking heaven and all it possesses that I even asked her, it’s the closest to any kind of microscopic fame this sorrowful excuse for a human shit-sack will ever come. I mean take a look in the mirror, sister, it’s way after midnight, you’re drunkenly teeter-tottering near the fucking bathroom and you have the fucking nerve to say, “No pictures!” What a fucking cunt! And outside of joking around, I don’t throw that word out describing a female very often, because 99.9 % of women do not deserve to have that word flung at them. But this fucking delusional airhead definitely does. “No pictures!” Fuck you! Remember the Bob Dylan record, “Blonde on Blonde?” This broad is “Cunt on Cunt.” Fuck it, I’m getting the fuck out of here, I’ll drink my beers at home. I really cannot fucking take it anymore. Fuck her, fuck this place, fuck, fuck fuck. My head’s about to explode!
Aaaahh...back home with my good friend Mr. Bud Weiser. Serenity now! Goodnight everybody!
Review
Here’s the original review of this shithole I wrote for my book, “99 Beers Off The Wall” back in 2002:
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There’s a massive, sprawling curly-que wooden bar in the middle of the Coffee Shop Bar with booths off to one side, tables and banquettes for eating lunch and dinner off to the other and another, smaller bar in the back. So the good news is, there’s usually a good shot at snaring a seat somewhere. But as we all have realized by now in our sorry-ass lives, when there’s good news, very often bad news is right around the corner waiting in the wings, ready to pounce. Such is the case here. This joint is loaded with attitude, mainly from the pretentious crowd that populate this place—which by the way resembles a coffee shop about as much as a giant brand new, sparkly, corporate Barnes and Noble book store resembles the beaten up, yet charming corner newsstand. The majority of the crowd here is young women who are wannabe models and actresses and sleazy guys in phony Wall Street and agent type mode. Basically the scene in here is this: The wannabe model is fed a line from the phony agent guy promising a photo shoot here, a screen test there. They go home, have sex and in the morning when the designer drugs have worn off and they’ve sobered up, they realize that they’re both losers. Good looking losers, but losers all the same. The wannabe model becomes a high priced hooker and the phony agent guy gets lucky the next night by telling some crack whore he can get her an audition for the next edition of Survivor. Oh, I saw Susan Sarandon having lunch in here once. She’s not here today.
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I stand by my original review.
No pictures? FUCK YOU!
Coffee Shop Bar
29 Union Square
212-243-7969
1 Reference
Reader Comments (14)
LMFAO! I love it when you get mad! Good review too! Where do you get a copy of 99 beers?
I took Evelyn Woods speed reading course. I used this review as my first reading challenge. All I got from "skimming" through it is Susan Sarandon is a cunt who drank 99 beers here once.
The fuckers give Coffee a bad name.
Laugh now, but if the sky ever falls, that gal's gonna be the first one to see it.
By the way, that's a really stupid name for a bar.
Also, I think that sky lady's sitting on a giant rabbit.
Im sorry, but you CRACK ME UP when you are pissed off!
I always RUN OUT THE DOOR whenever bad techno music is playing! And I will be sure to NEVER visit that shithole
I like that comment by Boris about giving coffee a bad name.
Sheesh Marty and I thought I had it bad yesterday and today.
You're damn scary today, Marty...I like that!
Oh Oh oh !!!! there is a chainsaw noise on heeeeere !!!!!!
I think the woman looking at the sky is looking at God "up" but God is right "down" in her... I explain : In French "sex toy" is called "god" so I personally think she sat on a god, but to bad for her it was too long and hurted her stomach.... and probably the music was too much and you didn't hear the sentence she said at this moment : "OH my Gooood! this God is too loooong for my mexican shaved pussy! Why the great JesusHole Son didn't advice me about?! Now the sky is going to fall on my head !!!! " .....
But if we look at things with a scientist view... you were able to take a picture of the woman with a god right in her... so If I apply the √pussy + mexican food² formula... I can tell the brunette didn't get a god in her for so loooong time.... and I called this kind of biatch : "une mal baisé" (a bad fucked woman) ....
BUT WHO THE FUCK WOULD FUCK AN UNFUCKABLE PUSSY SMELLING MEXICAN FOOD ????
ha ha !
You really nailed it with that one, Marty! I almost shit myself laughing...
You are way, way, waaaaaaaay too bitter to be taken seriously. You sound like you take a lot of things very personally which frankly reduces your credibility. Every other word of this review has something about how angry and bitter you are. And throwing words around like c*nt and hosebag? Just because a woman doesn't want her picture taken? I can't even imagine how you'd react if a woman turned you down for a date. It's crystal clear you have major issues. Even your positive reviews sound desperate. "Guys, I'm HAPPY, I LOVED THIS PLACE, everyone GO HERE!!!!!" And then you go on to other sites trying to track down whoever said negative things about your site? WTF? If you can't take it, don't dish it out. Putting yourself out there as a public figure means you're going to catch flak.
Calm down and don't get pissy when the Beautiful People (The Coffee Shop is a known hangout for models and modelizers--let's put this kindly, you're not their target clientele) don't want their pictures taken. You may see it as free publicity--they may see it as an intrusion on their privacy. They have that right. You're not doing yourself any favors with the misogyny and anger seeping from your blog.
M, you're entitled to your opinion, you don't like my site, fine, you don't have to come here. Lots of places for you to go on the internet. Enjoy!
P.S. Just re-reading "M"'s rant: she posted as "Yee" elsewhere on here, I know because it's the same I.P. address. "M" or whoever you are, this was halfway done as a joke and this woman was bombed out of her skull and thought I was paparazzi. Hopefully you're long gone, but anyone else coming here, I didn't delete her lame-ass comment because I love how she uses the word, modelizers! Ha ha ha! No, I'm not their target clientele, "M" and I thank fucking god for that everyday! I'll never be one of the beautiful people! Sob!