I was feeling a little blue and under the weather last week and by Thursday, all I really wanted to do was come home to my cozy apartment and snuggle onto my couch, flip on reruns of Grey’s Anatomy and wonder to myself “where is my Denny?” But when my two favorite ladies gave me the famous last words - ”just come out for one or two and then go home”, I couldn’t resist. Since when has a little hard alcohol ever hurt a cold? Yes, that’s right, I can justify anything.

We started out at a little work networking event - free booze and appies - perfect. I was really trying to behave and pace myself, but before I knew it I had made friends with the senior bartender (by this I mean he was a senior), who happened to take a liking to my free-spirited nature. To confess, I think saying his name repeatedly (it was a lovely name), winking and perhaps giving him a little hug may have been the catalyst for the ‘evil’ start to our night. Before I knew it, my wine glass was never empty… refills for our triage were coming hard and fast. I think S.A., Jo and myself left the party dancing out the door. Yes, yes we did. Next stop: the bar at Goldfish.

The ladies and I decided we should soak up the mass alcohol intake with some food, so we situated ourselves in a prime corner spot at the bar and poured over the menus for some satisfying carbs. Keen on settling our stomachs, we still hadn’t decided on drinks (most likely because all three of us had enough liquor to last us well into the night). Minutes after wavering on our drink order, and opting for fries and spring rolls, our server came back over to let us know that the three gentlemen at the other end of the bar had sent over a bottle of red wine. Since we had been drinking white all night, we politely asked if we could switch the bottle over to a comparable white, we also asked her to thank them kindly for their generosity. We looked at each other, unsure of what to expect next. Not too concerned as we have probably seen it all by now, we raised our glasses and toasted ourselves to having a good night.

Time went by, our appies arrived and still these men had not come over to introduce themselves. We enjoyed and appreciated the fact that they did not come over. You see, this does not happen often in our city. If a man sends you a drink and then comes over to introduce himself, quite often you’re stuck feeling politely obliged to talk to him. If you go the other route and don’t accept the drink, then you look like a snot, so really you can’t win. Well tonight was different. These men had class - they simply wanted to see the ladies having a good time. Was it too good to be true?

After we finished our appies, a round of shots came for us and again no intro. By then, these gents had earned the curiosity that would drop down the guards of any lady… just a bit. We refused to do our shots without their presence, so our server brought the trio over to meet us. All three men were polite, respectful and a tad on the shy side. They stayed for a bit and then returned to their seats. A few minutes later, another bottle of wine was brought over and then another round of shots. Who were these men and where can we be surrounded by more of them?

A tad later, I went to the wc to do my tactical vomit… yes, classy I know, but a must on a night like this. On my way back to the table, one of the trio caught my arm and looked me deep in the eyes. This gent was a bit older and from my first impressions of him I thought we might be playing on the same team. However, his first words to me were “would you like to go for dinner with me?” I smiled coyly back (of course) and said maybe. I’m not sure why, as I was not attracted to this man, but I figured he was interesting and personality gets a lot of points in my books these days. There is nothing worse than having to listen to a boring, impassionate man over dinner. He said “come for dinner with me tonight, let’s the two of us walk over to Glowbal”. I was impressed by his spontaneity. Although I was drunk as a skunk and tempted to go, I decided I should bring an accomplice and grabbed S.A. to come with me.

We headed over to Glowbal, where we saw Luongo (sigh) and his entourage. Notably present though was Trevor Linden’s brother - hot. After having another glass of wine at the bar, by this time we were not sure what we were talking about and started raving about the meatballs.  At our request, our poor date ordered us a round of meatballs. Things were going okay until he broke out into a bad rendition of the Carlton dance… at which point we may have said goodbye and bolted out the door. I don’t think it was the dance that made us leave, but our very short attention spans. I wonder if our date shared his balls with any other ladies that night?

Here are our Lessons From A Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1. Always have a classy exit plan in mind. Maybe preplan the exit plan before you have too many bevy’s.
2. Pace yourself. If you’re feeling on the edge, start leaving your drinks around the room. Pretend to do your shots and, if need be, do the tactical v.
3. Don’t prejudge all men that buy you drinks, there are still some men that follow the codes of chivalry.
4. If you’re sick, going out and drinking your face off might not be the best plan. You will pay for it for a while. If you do, you might as well make it worth your while.

Lessons for the Men:

1. There’s nothing wrong with buying some pretty ladies bottles of wine and not going over to them.  This makes you intriguing and mysterious. 
2. Don’t break out into a Carlton dance.  Whether it’s as a joke or if that’s seriously how you dance, either way, women will run in the opposite direction.
3. Do make sure to get the lady’s contact information, that way if she doesn’t remember you the next day you have a way to contact her again.

-W.T.

Read our past Tales From A Bar Stool…

During a recent trip to Los Angeles, I had the Tale of all Tales. What better place for it to occur than in La La Land? The Blonde and I finished a rather unimpressive dinner at the Philippe Starck designed Katsuya and decided to move on to another venue down the street for dessert. Best decision we made all night. The particular restaurant we chose (to remain unnamed due to my paranoia… you’ll understand below) is a celebrity owned one, frequented by the creme de la creme of LA, including a certain Mr. Beckham and Mr. Timberlake. We had had dinner there the night before and were craving another helping of the decadent chocolate cake.

There were two prime spots at the bar, so we assumed our positions, ordered two glasses of wine, two desserts to share and took stock of the restaurant. We didn’t have to look far before we spied Lauren Conrad with two friends directly behind us, sans camera crew (unfortunately Brody Jenner was no where in sight). There was a small group of men sitting next to us at the bar and they seemed to know everyone in the restaurant - both staff and guests. Pretty soon they caught our eyes and moved their attention to us by immediately including us in their next round of shots. These men were hot shots - aka… knew they were the shit. The talker of the group (Hot Shot) introduced himself to us and told us he was a main investor in the restaurant and friends with the celebrity owner. He also bore a resemblance to Tyson Beckford and we learned he was originally from Paris - ding ding ding… jackpot.

Unfortunately, the more we talked to him, the more we realized that the reason there were double doors at the entrance to the restaurant was so that his inflated head could get through. He told us that he would give us anything our hearts desired. The Blonde and I looked at each other, obviously thinking the same thing: wishing the shops in Bev Hills were still open so we could take HS up on this offer before he changed his mind. In addition to getting whatever we wanted, he offered to call our bosses and tell them that we would be spending a few more days in LA; he even told us he would pay our bosses for the inconvenience. Oh… AND he would cover our hotel bill for the whole weekend, including the past 2 nights. Is this a regular occurance in Hollywood? Because this just doesn’t seem normal to me.

Two more shots later, he invited us to join him at S-Bar as his guests. Even though, he was getting mildly annoying, like a mosquito flying around your room at bedtime, we agreed to go. He was entertaining if nothing else and we were curious to see where the night would take us.

He had acquired quite the entourage while we were sitting there at the bar and our group had increased to twelve, including two Lakers girls. We were waved right in past the paparazzi and mile long line. It made me feel kind of special, I’m not gonna lie. HS knew everyone in S-Bar too and we already had a table waiting for us. I don’t think he drank normal drinks… he just ordered shots. While he was off at the bar, we were able to take an assessment of the space and who do we spy? Oh.. there’s LC again… we’re hitting all the same spots as her. Her group has grown and now she’s dancing. She’s definitely had a few too many cocktails and, upon a close up look at her, we notice that she’s really not that hot. She looks far older than her 22 years - I’m talking early 30’s, wrinkles and all. Could this be reality tv’s biggest secret? LC is actually 32, but playing a 22 year old? Much like the cast on 90210 back in the day. Yes, I’m starting rumours. We fought the urge to run up to her like school girls and cling on to her, devoting our eternal loyalty to Team Lauren.

While HS was at the bar, we got approached by a couple of really friendly, attractive guys. Enter HS with our shot glasses and the two guys coiled away in fear. They leaned in and profusely apologized for talking to us, saying they didn’t realize we were with “him”. Wow. That’s when we truly realized the power of HS. He really was a somebody, a somebody that you don’t mess with. Now we were getting nervous… how were we going to escape this situation? The obvious answer is agree to go to another bar with him, right?

Next on the list… back to his restaurant to hang out in the private VIP lounge upstairs. I think the idea of possibly bumping into Mr. Beckham helped us in our decision to go. We were getting a tour of the Hollywood every outsider wants to be a part of. Really… how could we say no?

Once again, we walked past the paps and through the velvet rope. The lounge was like another world from the classy restaurant. Red lights, DJ, bass, dancing bodies. Cristal on ice, Grey Goose flowing - already waiting for us at a table. We had just entered an Usher video.  Ummm… I could definitely get used to this. The Blonde and I took up shop at the table and the boys poured us glasses of Cristal. The space was small but it was completely packed and we couldn’t see anyone through the crowd. HS wouldn’t let us leave our table to explore - he took off, with very strict instructions to stay at the table and not let anyone else sit down. Creepy. Once his friends returned, we tried to make our escape. We were halfway out when we bumped into HS, who grabbed my hand and dragged me behind the bar for… more shots, of course. Thank god I was smart and had only done half of all the others, otherwise I could’ve ended up on top of the bar dancing. HS used this opportunity to make his move. He pulled in close and moved with me to the music. Now, there is one thing I’m a sucker for and it’s a man who’s got rhythm. Damn… he could move. Next move - the lean in for a kiss. I tried for as long as I possibly could to dodge his lips but they just kept coming, so I had to fold. Ok… there are two things I’m a sucker for. The second is big, kissable lips. I had to get out of here before he made his next move. My third weakness was on the horizon (actually, I had felt it on my leg) and I didn’t want to go there…

The Blonde and I made our excuses to use the washroom and HS led us downstairs to the now closed restaurant so we could use the empty washrooms there rather than wait in line upstairs. How thoughtful.

We used this time to strategize. We really didn’t want to spend the rest of the night with this dude, there were bigger and better options out there. More bars to visit, more hearts to break.

Option #1: We feign a sickness.
Option #2: We just tell him straight up that we’re going somewhere else.
Option #3: We run… we run so far away.

We went with Option #3. When we opened the washroom doors, we half expected HS to be waiting there for us. Luckily he was no where in sight. Rather than go back outside through the entrance to the lounge, we rushed through the restaurant where staff were cashing out and cleaning up, praying that the doors were still unlocked. Luck was on our side. We dashed out and literally ran down the street, without looking back, into a waiting taxi at the curb. We even ducked down in the back seat as we sped away. It was one of our finer moments.

On to Teddy’s, an A Night At The Roxbury moment and Leo DiCaprio… but that’s another story…

My Lessons From a Bar Stool:

Lessons for the Ladies:

1. Always have an exit plan. You don’t want to get stuck with a guy that you’re not interested in just because you don’t have a way out.

2. Some men offer you the world, doesn’t mean you have to accept it. Accepting all of his gifts may make him feel that he owns you. Just accept the shoes and purse… then run ;).

3. Don’t treat celebrities as idols. They are regular people, treat them as such - as though they were just another person in the bar.

Lessons for the Men:

1. Do ensure you have connections at all the hottest bars in town.  Girls don’t like lines.

2. Don’t brag about how much money and power you have. No one wants to hear it. A little modesty goes a long way.

3. Do treat a woman like the princess she is and make sure she is enjoying herself without imposing on her.

-S.A.

Read our past Tales From A Bar Stool…

It was another evening of after work drinks and I was to meet up with my friend, K, a social butterfly by nature who is instantly everyone’s best friend, including one of mine for the past 12 years. We chose to meet at one of my usual spots and pulled up to the bar. It was a Wednesday at 5pm and not busy. Since opening, this spot has been packed every day during the week, but since this economic hiccup, it seems like everyone is drowning their sorrows at home with a cheap bottle of red instead of that $60 Chianti. It certainly puts a damper on my life and my quest for that sugar daddy. These Tales may start to get sparser…

But I digress, back to business. We had just ordered our second glasses and were halfway through our appies when “he” made an appearance. I can’t mention exactly who “he” is for fear that he will somehow read this through googling his name and the jig will be up. But I will say this, he’s someone that everyone knows of as a local fixture. Some have never seen him, but all know of him. This is because he bears a striking resemblance to a certain 80’s actor. People actually approach him thinking that he is the real thing. I’m going to leave it at that and refer to him as The Moustache (if that doesn’t ring any bells, then you’ve all got to get your heads checked).

The Moustache and I exchanged looks across the bar and I quickly looked away, feeling my face burning up red. He took up a station at the end of the bar with the young man he was with, his son, who was very handsome indeed. K had started chatting with the older man sitting next to me - as I said earlier, she will talk to anyone. He was regaling us with his work details and was interested in K’s line of work as he could use some of the services she offered. He told us how he had jumped around from job to job - was in investment banking then owned a diamond mining company in Africa and now runs his own “global investment” company, whatever that means. I thought he was a bit full of it and kind of zoned out of the conversation. That’s when I thought I would amuse myself by playing peekaboo with The Moustache. Not literally! Gawd… I’m not that cheesy. I could feel him looking at me though, so I gazed his way every so often and sent him one of those sexy half smiles. At least, I think they’re sexy.

K and I asked for our tab and proceeded to pay the bill when one of the bartenders leaned in to me and said that the gentleman at the end of the bar wanted to buy me a glass of wine. Mission accomplished. Note to self: Coy smiles will seal the deal.

Once I got my glass, I headed over to say thank you, as all appreciative girls do. He gave me his real name, not fake movie star name as I heard he sometimes does to bed helpless women. He introduced me to his son. Hot. Young, tall and hot. They were both rather flirtatious and I got the feeling that this was a regular routine that they played. Regardless, I was enjoying myself. The father/son tag team works well for them. We finished our glasses and they had to leave. I couldn’t help myself though, how often would I be put into this situation again with a hot father/son duo? So I handed them both my business card and actually told them both to get in touch. Bold move. I think it worked. Not 30 minutes after they left, I got an email from the father saying he enjoyed my smile and the next day, the son sent me a Facebook message inviting me to their cabin. Wow. I wonder if I’ll ever live this kinky fantasy out…

My Lessons From a Bar Stool:

For the Ladies:

1. Once again, don’t talk to a man if he’s annoying or dull. You are not obligated to speak to him just because he is sitting next to you at the bar. It will be harder to get rid of him in the long run. Harsh? Maybe.
2. Do send a man coy smiles.
3. Don’t blatantly stare at a man, this will scare him off. A few quick glances and perhaps one lingering look should do the trick.

For the Men:

1. If you send a drink to a woman, don’t leave out her lone friend - it’s rude. You always want to win over the friend. Only exception is if she’s with a big group, then just send one.
2. Do have a drink with your father or son and if you’re both hot, use it to your advantage. It’s a dynamic that women don’t see often and it’s very intriguing.
3. If you’re interested, do send an email within 24 hours - don’t play the 3 day game.

-S.A.

Read our past Tales From A Bar Stool…

The NKOTB concert this past Friday turned me into an 11 year old girl again. I screamed, I swooned and I sang along to all of the old songs. It was possibly heaven on earth.

The boys opened up the show with their latest hit, Single, which was soon followed by some New Kids classics. I have to say that the boys certainly still know how to perform. I was entertained throughout the entire concert. Their dance moves are still top form, although they have toned it down a bit from their early days. It seemed that Jordan and Joey did most of the singing, followed by Donnie. Danny and Jon held back and let the others steal the show. The worst part of the show was when they held a photo contest after their Click Click Click number. It was just lame and a waste of time. I tuned out. They need to switch that up. Favourites - Tonight, Step by Step and Summertime (yes, the new song)

Yes, I still have a soft spot for each of the boys. I had forgotten how hot Jordan Knight is… did anyone else need to change their panties after his solo of Baby I Believe In You where he crooned in front of the wind machine in an open white shirt? Wow. Hot. I was even attracted to Danny Wood when he busted out some breakdancing. Surprised? I was. He was always a bit of a monkey boy. Joey’s still hot but, as we later found out after the concert, he’s a bit of a diva. Someone should tell him that there are five members in the group, not one. Jon Knight, the shy and quiet New Kid, has grown into a very handsome man with some fabulous arms. And then there’s Donnie Walhberg… still a bad boy.

The crowd at the concert was an odd mix of females. Mainly over the age of 25 but there were definitely some youngsters in the group… possibly just there to see Lady GaGa. I can’t imagine the girls under 25 would remember the New Kids in their prime. The clothes that the girls wore were just as terrible as the outfits at the Madonna concert. Think neon, leg warmers and tight everything. Girls wearing short skirts and tight tops who really shouldn’t be wearing those things - they really need to learn to dress for their figures. I actually cringed.

NKOTB couldn’t have picked a better time for a comeback. I enjoyed their new songs and their old. It was an excellent concert… perhaps even on the same level as Madonna. But I must say, the best part was hanging out with the boys post concert. Can we say dream come true?