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  • Man...The Abbey. I've had the misfortune of living a minute away from this place for the last four years, and so, out a desire for extreme convenience, I've given it a number of chances. Here's what you need to know: - The pretty Asian girls who work the bar may not know what a Jack and Coke is, but if you do enough pointing and talking very slowly, you can have one for eight dollars. They may need some help finding the button on the computer. - The Makers Mark is not Makers Mark. My guess tonight was that they had filled it with Northern Harvest rye, which, if you're going to fill bottles with other stuff, ain't a bad choice. - They do karaoke twice a week, although it seems like they do karaoke every night. This is actually my favourite thing about the place. I've enjoyed being a fly-on-the-wall throughout, in a sort of social-experimenty way (I fucking sang a few times okay? Don't give me grief). There's an old dude who is here every single karaoke night. He looks like a biker extra from a Canadian film shoot, he has crazy eyes. He will try and make eye contact with you. He will sing an 80s tune that is long forgotten by most, but presumably held dear to him. His friend, a younger, portly gentleman with long hair and a goatee, will put everything he has into Pearl Jam's "Jeremy". Him and the old man will chastise the younger participants for lacking proper mic technique. Arghghg millennials! - The layout of this place doesn't make sense. I feel like I'm in an off-broadway Alice In Wonderland production. - I once tried to dine and dash here, after I couldn't take money out of the ATM. I had been drinking all day, and just couldn't be bothered to figure it out. One of the girls chased me down the street, and dragged me back. I knew the jig was up. I didn't even fight back. I was sleepy! After the cops detained me, I protested, handcuffed in the backseat, and asked the officers if they had enjoyed the first season of True Detective. I mean, who the hell hadn't?! Long story short, I went back a few days later and paid my thirty dollar tab. I felt extreme guilt. $3.50 Jaggers.
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