Posts Tagged ‘bar’

Redneck Heaven, Garlic Bread Hell

Last Call
Every time I’m on 820 as it loops north of Haltom City, I see the sign. It says Redneck Heaven, and it applies to a gigantic bar and grill with motorcycles parked in front of it. And every time, I think, Oh, geez.

Best Of 2011

On The Town
Fort Worth Weekly Staff
Cheap Buzz Being an alcohol connoisseur is a lot of fun — you get to be a blowhard about who makes the best Manhattan in town, fulminate over whether specialty martinis are gimmicky, and dive into the latest and greatest cock...

Randi’s 2 to 2: A Redux

Last Call
So back in June, I happened upon a bar on Hwy. 377 called Last Call, adjoining a defunct bar called J-Z’s R&B.

Division Intervention

Last Call
You might say I’ve been feeling the funk a little, and not the kind that comes out of Parliament’s Mothership. More specifically, it’s a summertime blues spawned from a host of disappointments led by the dreadful weather....

The Door Guys of Perception

Last Call
This cheapskate waiter-hating person I know gave me crap for using this space as a soapbox for the service industry, a crime to which I proudly plead guilty. But I also use it to stump for the rights of professional drunks, pot...

Cowtown Bar & Grill: Bust a Move

Last Call
If there’s one thing that aptly captures the fenced-in ennui of a Monday, it’s getting stuck at a left-turn light that never turns green. I made this connection when the light at the Camp Bowie/377 traffic circle cycled thr...

No Overtime for Bikinis

Last Call
Here’s the thing: I love dive bars and all, but every so often, one’ll give me a case of the willies strong enough to make me turn tail and head for some place presumably safer. I like to call it my stabby sense, and the ot...

Water: Lighter than Booze?

Last Call
My parents live about 90 miles east of the San Francisco Bay Area, and so their summer weather experience is slightly different than that of folks around here. I say “slightly” because Lodi still gets hot as balls. The main...

Holding Out Hope on Hulen

Chow, Baby
It wasn’t so long ago that the area between the Vickery Boulevard bridge and Bellaire Drive, which folks once thought of as Cullen Davis’ backyard, had evolved into a thriving little hot spot. The heat has cooled, however, ...

A Song of Ice and Firewater

Last Call
Walking home in the wee hours of Sunday morning, I checked the time on my phone. It was 4 a.m. Christ, I said to myself, I’m getting too old for this shit. Indeed, I had turned 33 on Thursday, commencing my celebration with l...