Howdy, brokesters… apologies for the lack of TBC musings as of late. Happy new year and shit. If you follow me on Twitter/are stalking me in real life, you know that I spent the holiday season getting blotto in my beloved home state of Wisconsin. Yes, America’s darling Dairyland. Land

After much thought during a recent long drive so boring that counting deer carcasses became an actual game,  I have made an important realization that I feel I must–must!–share with the world RIGHT NOW: Peter McManus Cafe is my favorite pub in New York City. If you haven’t been there

You know we’re getting close to summer when the smell of hot chestnuts is replaced with the simmering smell of hot dogs and other street meat, and I’m not talking about those fancy food carts. Floaters, foot-longs, weenies, whatever you want to call them, it’s hotdog season in the city

At first I wasn’t really sure how I would find/like a bar purposely calling itself “Nameless,” but fortunately both things turned out better than expected. That had a lot to do with the number 4. 4 is how many dollars the bar charges for a Tecate with fresh lime juice.

I find it way easier to spend things that represent money than actual money, even though it takes actual money to get the things that represent it. Which is a confusing way of saying I think it’s pretty awesome that Brooklyn Brewery uses wooden tokens as currency for beer, and

As I said a while ago, bars named after their owners are more often than not the best dive bars. After much deliberation and cheap beers, I’ve decided that Sharlene’s Bar is the best self-named dive bar in all of Brooklyn. First off, the drinks are pretty cheap. The beers

If you’re anything like me, you bought an iPod or MP3 player because you were sick of carrying CDs everywhere. Also, you probably decided that some albums weren’t worth converting to a digital format, and abandoned the albums you kept around for theme parties, guilty pleasure and attacks of nostalgia