After getting instructions from my soon to be cousin in law, Hunter, crossing the street in front of us and not really knowing who I was, we made it to this gallery/bar/chess club hangout and paid to get in.
Guess what?
It sucks.
After a couple of drinks, we ditched Lo and headed to a fabulous looking bar we passed, right by our fantastic parking space.
How the hell did I not know about Flytrap. This, let me tell you, is my new favorite place.On earth.
First of all, I think I’m getting old. I would much rather sit at a swanky bar sipping incredible wine with my wonderful and well-dressed friends.
And my wonderful and well-dressed friends have fabulous taste in food. Jason started with the Caprese. And Mikey?
He had brain.
I actually tried it, as did Bikeshorts, and we agreed that perhaps knowing what it was hindered our enjoyment. Mikey sat beside me over his empty plate. "I think I'm getting smarter."
Dinner was wonderful. We're all going to Flytrap.
Everyday.
Until the end of time.
Get a couple of drinks in Bikeshorts and he starts calling chicks. It's actually entertaining to listen to, as he suddenly becomes this overly-flirty, mildly desperate yet ultimately disappointed player who holds his phone up and lets me announce to girlfriend number 657 how he'll never really care about her.We hit up Bloom after, for cocktails and mocking my jukebox tastes, but it paled in comparisson. Actually, everywhere pales in comparisson.
Where my wings at? I just got trapped...
6 comments:
In Old Town Sac with Sharon last night, in the wine cellar--I mean THE WINE CELLAR, of the swanky, the arty, the let us order a $5000 bottle of Screaming Eagle, THE FIREHOUSE. We got a tour of said wine cellar from manager and all around wine guru, Mario Ortiz. He loves SF, and so I asked him where he dines in the Fran and the 3rd place he mentioned was...
The Fly Trap. And I was like, What? And he told us all about it and how fabulous it is. So...imagine my complete and utter when I read your blog just now.
I love you. D'vor Schmuel
It's a sign! We have to go. Seriously, Dan. This place is Spots-Heaven. I can't get over it...
I miss you. I love you. I can't believe we communicate this way.
Um, let me just say that I wasn't disappointed last night...
Ewwww.
Is that some sort of gross and sad attempt at letting people know that you booty called some poor woman who is most likely, at this very moment, sitting in front of her computer with her cell phone at the ready, convinced you're about to contact her at any moment?
Here. I'll do it for you. JASON hooked up last night everyone! I repeat, Jason got play. Jealous? Thought so...
Grandpa used to go to the FLYTRAP for lunch in the 50's. Could it be the same place?
XOMOM
Yes! It must be. It's 100 years old. We've got to go, Mom. It's my new hangout...
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