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Posted by on Dec 24, 2008 in blog | 0 comments

Gallette’s


What can one say about Gallettes, other than it is perhaps the most glorious
establishment of all time.  


The is no grand façade to greet you when you arrive

In fact, there is not even a sign designating the grandeur you are about to experience once you walk through the red door.  Let me warn you – if you are a dude (and by “dude”, I mean any guy associated with the Greek system, or athletic baller) you shouldn’t even think about entering at night without your Croakies hooked to your sunglasses, because the fratdaddies of this bar rock their sunglasses at night, for sure.  And watch out for those sorostitutes, because they are lurking at every corner, just waiting to reel the innocent bystander in for a dance on the floor upstairs, followed by a shack later on.  

If you are a lady (and by “lady”, I mean any female associated with the Greek system), anything goes – from the laid back look (complete with the latest Michael Kors handbag), to the latest trend from Diane Von Furstenberg. And don’t worry about ruining your Tory Burch flats on the bar-funk infested floors.  Bar funk can be removed from anything, even winter-white slacks (I know from personal experience).  This is the only bar where you can arrive pre-dusk, when the sun is still visible, and emerge once again (after a few baby-bombs, of course) with the sun shinning brightly.  If you want to have the best time of your life, followed by a major life-evaluation session the next morning as you are walking home from the bar and passing people on their morning jogs, then this little dilapidated, yet delightful bar is the place for you.

 
This bar has so much to offer, I don’t even know where to begin.

Baby bombs (that’s pint-sized red bull and jager shots) are the preferable pick-me-up, and you can always be sure that you will enjoy the musical selections of either the downstairs or upstairs.  Just a word to the wise: do not wear flip-flops to this bar, unless you think you might enjoy a nice frolic in the mysterious substance covering the floors of this bar.  For years no one has been able to determine the contents of that substance – suffice it to say it’s called “bar funk”, and trust me – you do not want that stuff making contact with you

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