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| - I cannot believe I am giving this place five stars. 16 year-old punk rawk me would look at [redacted] year-old me and punch me squarely in the nads if he thought I would ever be caught dead in a buttlicking Scottsdale frat-bro bar. And even though it smells like trenbolone, Axe Body spray, and quiet feminine desperation, I can't help but love this place.
Awesome bar staff and - wait, what??? - friendly, respectful bouncers. Beer is cheap, mixed drinks are strong-ish. Usually a diverse crowd. Never had food here, so I can't comment on that, but they do have free ice cream. Do you know what goes really splendidly with lots-o-shots of I-Don't-Know? Ice cream. Who knew, right? Did I mention that sometimes, people will just hand you drinks here? And they don't know what's in them? I'd advise my sister not to accept free, unsolicited shots from a stranger, but I'm not one to take my own advice.
As a healthy straight man, I really appreciate the lack of clothing most female patrons wear here. Combine that with the wheel-of-shots up on the bar, and at times Junkie feels like the pre-party before a Roman orgy, in the good kind of way.
So I would tell my 16 year-old punk rawk self to chill the F out, and that by the time you're [redacted] years old, you'll really be beyond caring what everyone else is doing unless it amuses you. And everything amuses me at American Junkie. And then I'd preemptively punch 16 year-old punk rawk me in the nuts, tell him to invest in Apple and Google, bet the middle on Super Bowl 34, and to not marry that girl that you're going to marry. Then I'd give him a few hundred bucks, because that was a lot of money [redacted] years ago.
And also, 16 year-old punk rawk self, the DJ rolled out some WTTHAAB-era NOFX last Saturday night, the perfect thing to make you feel young, dumb, and full of [redacted] again - and when you get to be my age, you will appreciate that.
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