Don't Call it a Comeback

Yes, we've been away again, but now we're back with a vengeance. Bou and Row have spent the last month frolicking about Europe.

Our first adventure led us to Spain. After a relaxing fishing trip off the coast of Mallorca, we headed over to Pamplona for the Running of the Bulls where many a poor red scarf wearing sap was gored because of his drive for meaningful participation in his own culture (lucky for us--we can just go to McDonald's and down a McRib for that shit.)

Many bibulous and riotous times were had. The calimoxo flowed like coke and wine, paella was eaten like it was leftover, room-temperature Papa John’s laying around the morning after a good 2nd Saturday. Many Museos de Jamon were visited, and lispy, aggressive women with lusts for life fixed our eyes in conversation while we tried to plead innocent of American barbarism. Despite Row beating up some vegetarian bullfighter named Romero, and some other drama which we may or may not save for our mamas, the Spanish leg of our trip was a drunken success.

Next it was on to the Tour de France....

At first, watching the alpine stretches of the race was a bit tiring due to the elevation sickness that befell us both. However, we found our way to the training tent, and after a few EPO cocktails, we felt surprisingly refreshed, what with all the extra red blood cells. An unexpected downside of doping our blood to better observe the race was that it took longer to get drunk, and when the Euro is bludgeoning the dollar like it is these days, that makes France expensive.

Following Montaigne's famous aphorism, "For what ails you, Albania the answer be," we decided to trek down to Tirana. After an emotional visit to the Unkown Partisan Monument, we felt inclined to drown our sorrows in carafe after carafe of Raki and Korca beer at the local pub. For one reason or another, we fell in with a bad crowd, and only by our wits and guile did we manage to escape. Still, there's nothing quite as rousing as a Raki fueled night at the Pravda Lounge if you ask us. But hey, had to be done. We had to fight them there so none of you have to fight them here. (We're pretty sure the Albanian mob won't come looking for us on the Hill...)

So Capitol Hill Bar Review is back, and none the worse for wear, whatever that means.

Soon we'll be making our way to the H St. bars and you'll finally find out whether they're cool or not.