Bar Belle: A Dear Santa letter

Dear Santa,

It’s me again — you know, the one who got away? I know you promised me the sun and the moon and all the little elves who’d carry me home from the North Pole bars. I just didn’t share your dream of holing up 364 days a year in a little love snow shack. You were kind to me, and I will never forget the way you made me feel like a million Monopoly bucks. Alas, our two worlds grew apart with time and distance and lack of sexual attraction. It wasn’t you, it was me.

I’m doing great, and I’ve been really good this year — save for breaking your jolly heart. If you can find forgiveness and gift me more than just a six-pack of PBR this year, I won’t ask for much. But if you decide to take another dump down my chimney, I will take the hint that you haven’t moved on. Rudolph told me you stole all those cases of Pappy last month and that your nose is redder than his. I hope you’re not drowning your sorrows with the bottle. Perhaps you’re just working on my Christmas gift, or maybe Lindsay Lohan has been really, really good since rehab. I’m here if you need to talk, and I’m leaving you those pot brownies you really like. Here’s my list, dawg:

• 1 bottle of Pappy Van Winkle

• Credit card debt expunged

• Louisville weather to mimic San Diego’s

• A medium-sized lottery win

• A medium-sized pontoon boat

• A medium-sized condo on a Florida beach

• Coffee from all the local shops

• Cher tickets

• Free CityScoot

• An officemate who doesn’t think I’m cheap or have bad taste in music

• A radio or TV show (TV only after I’ve lost 20 pounds)

• A faster metabolism

• A stronger resolve to say no to cheese, Dundee Dip, chocolate, froyo, beer and day drinking

• Showtime and HBO

• A device that lets me watch Netflix on my TV

• The key to the city (I know Mayor Fischer owes you a solid)

• Completion of the Big Four Bridge

• A trip to New Orleans

• A trip to Key West

• The name of the winning Derby horse

• The fancy new KFC to stop making mashed potatoes with real potatoes

• A bottle of champagne

• Free beer today

• A winning fantasy football team

• A suite at the Yum! Center

• Knees that make twerking more seamless

• A card that absolves me from paying taxes, cover charges and it forward


Bars in the ’Hood
I checked out two new spots this weekend, and I’m a fan of both. The first is Meta (, a fancy cocktail bar situated downtown next to a strip club. Run by my buddy Jeremy Johnson, who helped open Meat, Meta is dark, quiet and inviting and offers an impressive menu of throwback drinks that start in the $10 range. They’re strong and definitely worth every penny — and speaking of pennies, the floor is made of them, as if you stepped into Abe Lincoln’s man cave. There’s no food at the moment, but Jeremy said they’re working on it.

I also stopped by Play ( in Butchertown, a brand new gay bar/nightclub/dance den/drag show venue. It’s like a newer, cleaner, sometimes cheaper version of Connections, with its maze-like layout; its dark, secret corners; its fancy drag show stage; and its equally fancy and talented drag queens and kings. I’m not sure what’s going to become of Connections now that Play is here — perhaps we’re big and naughty enough to support both. Expect a $10 cover on the weekends, and I hear Thursdays are ladies’ nights, with no cover till 9:30 p.m. and buckets of Coors Light for $10 (not too shabby).


Drunk Texts of the Week
• I don’t care if you are Santa, get your hand out of my stockings!
• McConnell seems to be worried about his next erection
• This bar has a strong scent of skank

Send your drunk texts to [email protected].