In an alternate universe, I never changed since grade 10. In this universe my friend- who also never changed- and I have opened a bar called Hi-Lo. We went to somewhat great lengths (or the 'high' side of 'low' effort) to make the bar look like our bedrooms did- slanted postings of those old cheap pink, black, and white concert posters; skateboard decks; a pennant or two; Metallica pinball machine; etc. The music also matched what we played in our bedrooms.
Unfortunately, my aesthetic-sense disabled friend was in charge of putting up the concert posters, and they are all slanted with such exact intent and precision that the walls scream the same ineffible sense of 'trying' one heard most clearly when looking at the graffiti on backdrops of so many YTV shows marketed to 'cool kids.'
OKAY, I can blame that on my friend. He tried. Whatever.
But for this I share the blame: that we had the audacity to charge $6.75 for a pint of PABST BLUE RIBBON.
WHAT.
THE.
GRATEFUL F*CKING DEAD.
You basically end up paying $8 after tip for a PBR. Am I at an afterhours club? What is this. This is a bar. It's kind've cool I guess. But you pay $8 for a gawdaym PBR. If you have an uncle who's kind've cool, but he touches you when noones around, he's still a shitty uncle. And I cannot give this place over 2 stars.
If it's not too crowded go to The Comrade across the street. Better yet, if you're looking for everything this place tried to be, walk 10 min East to Bill Hicks bar.