#write drunk edit drunk

But y’know what, it’s my weekend, and I want to get chapter 2 up tomorrow but I also have a bottle of scotch that’s calling my name.

So screw you Hemingway.

A cocktail review written through mascara streaks, dislodged false eyelashes and Mariah Carey classics

Providence Social: Yes.

Fuck your Dryanuary. Fuck it right to hell.

For the inaugural installment of Can You Get Drunk For $20? I went to Providence Social, a “new American” (small plates, Brussels sprouts, bitters-in-cocktails) restaurant in Buffalo, on the third day of 2016 and during the last game of the Bills’ 2015/2016 season.

Forty-odd years ago a mob hit felled a man outside this restaurant, and its mafia ancestry inspired me to ask whether a trio of menacing men in a framed photograph on the wall were mobsters. They're actually the French Connection. Rick Martin's family runs the operation that replaced Romanello's Roseland. (Prime 490 occupied the address in between.) Subtle and less-so tributes to the hockey legend fill the restaurant (a vanity license plate with his nickname, a bubble hockey table incongruously dropped into the bar area, respectively).

I had a passable brunch of disappointing sweet potato hash (prettier than tasty) and poached eggs and toast. A previous brunch when I ordered a savory breakfast-stuffed poblano was a far better choice than the meal I put together à la carte. But, what am I doing telling you about brunch? You know how to order eggs.

At Providence Social, you can order a pitcher of mimosas that includes a full bottle of probably-not-Champagne Champagne for $9. Order it! One a person! Tip generously! You're about to drink too much while watching the Bills close out a winning* season that won't take them to the playoffs for the 16th straight year. The New Buffalo era ushered in by the Pegulas using their fracking money to buy things in Buffalo means nothing! Drink a half-dozen mimosas! 

When you get up to go the bathroom, stumble back toward your barstool. "I need to take some selfies," you explain while picking up your iPhone and batting the New Year's Eve false eyelashes you inexplicably re-affixed to your lids this afternoon.

Two feet from a toilet you take a horrible selfie while the Bills amble toward a meaningless win. Garbage time. Around the fourth mimosa, the vastly disappointing back-up QB was brought out to make one play that exploits his expendability. E.J.'s worthlessness, in a move you didn't entirely understand, makes him indispensable. This is how you feel.

Yes, you can get drunk at Providence Social for less than $20 ($9 and a tip)

10/10 (on a scale of 1 to 10 in which 1 is sober and 10 is drunk and there are no middling scores)