Not a Review of Pet Shop

As I said, I’ve been busy, so I’d like to try something different this week. One of my favorite bars in JC is Pet Shop and one of my favorite orders is a boilermaker, which is convenient since they have 3 on offer. A boilermaker is pretty much just a shot and a beer, unless you’re the sort of freak that mixes the two of them together.  I’d like to take you on a journey through each offering and what you can learn about the person ordering them.  This also comes with a music pairing from the Pet Shop jukebox.

This isn’t a review for Pet Shop. I want to be perfectly clear about this before we get started.  Do you understand, gypsy?

borat

First, for the uninitiated, a little background on the bar.

Pet Shop is Jersey City’s exploration into mid-life crisis.  Its the bar equivalent of turning 40, buying a sports car, and then quitting your job to teach yoga. It’s vegan, a philosophy I never enjoyed because it’s important to ingest your own fleeting mortality, and because dry-aged ribeye is worth hypertension.  However, the vegan skew of Pet Shop doesn’t concern me.  I don’t come here to eat. I come here to get drunk.  Also, to drunkenly eat Buffalo Cauliflower.

Pet Shop should not be confused with PS Wine Bar, the natural wine spot downstairs.  Its the perfect place to un-ironically order Rosé, learn about wine, and get fingered over your mom jeans while you sip on a spontaneously fermented Frappato. It’s the drunken divorcee that won the house in the settlement. If this is American Beauty, PS Wine Bar is Annette Bening to Pet Shop’s Kevin Spacey.  I go to PS Wine Bar to drink, not to get drunk, though getting drunk usually happens.

Anyway- I’m here to talk about getting drunk off shots – not wine

Canadian Club and Labatt Blue AKA Canadian Tuxedo.

JoeCarter

Congratulations! You’re over 40!  You remember Joe Carter’s game 6 home run in ’93, which was Canada’s last championship in any major sport. You’ve watched Reality Bites over 70 times.  Before going out tonight you used a phone to call your friend to see if they were also going, you definitely did not text them.

Here’s the play-by-play for the rest of your night.   Aging hipster crushes Tuxes. Young hipster ironically plays Misfits on the jukebox.  Aging hipster notices young hipster’s choice in music and provides perfunctory compliment. Aging hipster mentions that they utilized the PHONE to call their friend today and definitely DID NOT text them. Age gap and general indifference gets young hipster’s mommy/daddy complex fully lubricated.  Cross-generational hipster duo crushes Tuxes til they close the bar down.  Duo crawls back to aging hipsters apartment, waking up his contemporaneously aged roommate.  Aging hipster successfully fucks above their level and young hipster starts their journey as next generation’s aging hipster.  The whole thing is like a snake devouring itself.

Song:  Skulls by The Misfits

Tecate and Tequila AKA T-N-T

tnt

Regardless of your gender, the whole bar can see your side-boob.  You’re the most likely to eat the food here sober.  You’ve got big aspirations to make it to last call, and hope to find some two-fisted roustabout to show you his tattoos along the way.  Every 7 minutes, you warn your friends that you’ve been drinking Tequila and intend to get “litty”. It’s loud and no one can hear the person talking next to them, but EVERYONE can hear you. You eventually find yourself standing in front of Hollywood with a 3pc of dark meat. You wanted to have an inked-up beau take you home, but settle for Abdel who is completing a trip nearby.  On your way home you text your bestie about totally going to the gym tomorrow to sweat this out.  She texts back “WHERE ARE YOU?”.  Its 10:30.

Song: L’Via L’Viaquez by The Mars Volta

Yuengling and Jim Beam AKA Pennsyltucky

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You think Yuengling is craft beer.  You also think that Jim Beam is good bourbon. Despite your pleading, the bartender will not sub Jim for Tullamore Dew.  You don’t even live in Jersey City.  You’ve got a brunch bartending gig at Amelia’s on Saturday and crash on your buddy’s couch every weekend.  You repay him with cheap drinks at the bar instead of saving for a security deposit. He’s not amused, a sentiment that grows with every dollar you flush down your face toilet.  On weekdays you do landscaping for your other friend back in Toms River.  This gives the appearance that you are gainfully employed, which is something your mom set as a condition for living at home…and paying your cell phone……..and EZ Pass.  After you’ve had your 6th Pennsyltucky you begin to accost the staff, demanding to speak to “the person who books shows here”.  They promptly ask you to leave.  You’re also probably an Eagles fan.

Song: The Boys Are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy

Not a Nice Things rating:
lol
I created Nice Things because I want us to have nice things. So if you enjoyed what you read, share it with your friends.  You can follow me on Instagram @NiceThingsJC

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