The Saddleranch: Still A Vortex of Suckage in 2013
So I had a meeting at the Starbucks next to Los Angeles’s infamous Saddle Ranch Chop House yesterday.
For those of you who don’t know what the Saddle Ranch is, picture a faux-cowboy pickup scene with bad 80s music blaring from the sound system. Add in uber-hottie bartenders working the paid-to-pose angle. Then toss in hordes of beefy douchewanks with jock itch who read somewhere that the ‘Ranch is where “the Los Angeles 10s hang out.”
Then factor in greasy-as bar food smear and an electric bull vibrator, and the whole place reeks of the stench of all that is crotch itch in the pukey nostalgia hued wasteland/dreamland of the infamous Sunset Strip.
This isn’t to say the awfulness of my proximity to Douche Mecca of Los Angeles was a complete waste of time. Side benefit: oggling the leg reveal trend of the Bleeths as they came into the Starbucks to get a latte. Many a giggle pooch presented itself for suckle thigh fondle prod.
So there are small victories in the abyss.
I smirk and I smile. The mock continues, albeit subdued these days as I grow older and more pensive. But mock onward, I will.
The Chop House does have some of the most ballz achingly hottest waitresses there dressed to show mid-secton and cleavage until your boner knocks your beer over.
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The beauty of that place is you can get cocktails at half of what they charge at the House of Blues across the street while waiting to see a show there. But it is lousy with douchebags
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Try unloading and loading your band equipment at that fucking Viper Room , jee-hay-zuz, they make life miserable.
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You gotta park downhill in the pay lot behind it, 30 minutes before your set you have to drive way around the block to double park on Sunset Blvd in a 50 MPH section in a red zone leaving your gear (amps and guitars worth tons of $$$) on the freaking sidewalk out side the stage entrance.
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Two goons stare at you like you fondled their grandmother as you wait by the door. After many uncomfortable scenarios play out from smelly homeless hobos looking for cigarrette stubs on the ground, goofy, swishy gay couples sashaying by and loud mouthed , hammered youths toughing their way past with lowered shoulders and profanity, the door swings open for the band ahead of you to clear the stage
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Now there’s gear from both bands all mixed up together on a busy Hollywood side walk with no security as they are now watching the door from the INSIDE to make sure no one goes out that way.
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Once they clear out, you hustle your stuff to a stage about 4 1/2 feet off the ground with no stairs and about a foot wide space to manuever. BTW some of us have really fucking heavy amps.
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The sound guys are awesome, hustling the stage in preparation for you though they make no attempt whatsoever to handle your stuff.
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Cool place to play, hassle to get in and out. Fucking Viper Room
iPhones are fucking retarded if you have bloated fingers like drunk rev chad is COmmerce a nice neighbourhood in LA Son. Istanbul iPhone Internet trial I don’t like it and shit
Veronica’s thighs could turn The Saddle Ranch Chop House into a first-class joint.
I’m still with you DB1. Keep up the good work.
DW makes an excellent argument to never forget Veronica’s thighs, even if you’re inhaling the steamy vaginal vortexes at – Saddleranch? – wtf? oh, I get it, the bull ride thing. yikes
Veronica’s thighs make guacamole that inspired the phrase, “Holy Guacamole!”
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Paraphrasers
Veronica’s thighs have more Twitter followers than Twitter has followers.
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Wait, what?
Veronica’s thighs make me forget why I started this post.
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huh?
Didn’t they have a reality show for a hot minute? Made the Housewives of New Jersey look like a Nova special.