Among the Castro bars, the Midnight Sun earns marks for consistency.  Atmospherically, it can best be described as a giant television.  There is never any natural daylight inside, as that there aren’t any windows, and it boasts no less than five television sets with either a constant rotation of gay

This marks the THIRD time I’ve mentioned the Blue Owl because, well, this is also about as classy as you can get without feeling like a two-bit hack; a lowly fraud; a slimy chameleon; a really fucked-up, wart-backed, two faced (1 face toad, the other a mustachioed weasel wearing sun

  The good thing about class is that since you can’t buy it,  you can fake it.  It’s not like an apartment.  No un-roofied date will believe you when you say the junkie passed out on the stoop is the doorman and, ahem, his uniform is in the wash.  Or

Fug it man, tomorrow is supposed to be very nice out so while there isn’t too much in the way of news from Mug Lounge, I think it does warrant special invitation to come out tomorrow once the sun goes down to hide that lobster face.  It is also kind

Mmmmm.  Look at that classy bar…too bad Mug Lounge gave me the green light to guest bartend tonight during their lame-duck happy hour. Last time I was behind the bar an owner vocally disapproved my first three mixed drinks because they lacked the non-alcoholic component. Apparently it isn’t good for

Benito has the familiar build of a lounge busser: stocky, clean shaven, latino. However, common to small establishments (pardon the euphemism), his role is actually much larger. Prior to opening he mops Habibi’s floor, rearranges furniture, and hoses down the sidewalk. He sets up the DJ booth ‘“ plugging the