I have lived in Culver City for over three years and although the Cinema Bar's flaking, antique sign come-hithers me each and every time I drive by, I have never actually stopped in...until now.
It's the Sunday after a long holiday weekend and other than contemplating suicide versus going to work tomorrow, Chad and I really don't have much to do. After enjoying a sushi lunch and running the standard weekend errands, we decide to find a new destination to write about and tantalize our loyal readers. As far as I know, the Cinema Bar is the only dive in Culver City that Chad and I have not visited, so we (finally!) decide to give it a go.
We park on the street and walk through the open front door, surprised to discover the very tight quarters inside. The space is well-utilized with wooden paneling from floor to ceiling, walls plastered with beer posters, a tiny stage in the corner, a spacious outdoor seating area complete with fish tank, and to my excitement, a classic compact disc juke box.
We take a seat in the corner and order two Budweisers, assuming we'll only be staying for a short while. I start bantering with the bartender about his overpriced wedding, and become smitten soon thereafter. He reminds me of an adult version of the curly-haired boys I went to elementary school with, except with teeth likely demented by childhood metal capping. I become mesmerized by the movement of his mouth when he speaks and the delicacy of how he pushes his serrated knife into limes and lemons to prepare garnishes.
Sorry, sidetracked...
The stuff you care about:
-Beers are about $4 each. Drinks a couple dollars more.
-Local bands play almost every night.
-The juke box is filled with classic rock CDs, including a Mötley Crüe greatest hits
I sure had a lot of fun playing DJ, although it completely cleared out the ones and fives in my wallet. All two of the women in the bar complimented my music selections...and women rarely compliment other women, especially cute, young ones invading their bar.
It's the Sunday after a long holiday weekend and other than contemplating suicide versus going to work tomorrow, Chad and I really don't have much to do. After enjoying a sushi lunch and running the standard weekend errands, we decide to find a new destination to write about and tantalize our loyal readers. As far as I know, the Cinema Bar is the only dive in Culver City that Chad and I have not visited, so we (finally!) decide to give it a go.
We park on the street and walk through the open front door, surprised to discover the very tight quarters inside. The space is well-utilized with wooden paneling from floor to ceiling, walls plastered with beer posters, a tiny stage in the corner, a spacious outdoor seating area complete with fish tank, and to my excitement, a classic compact disc juke box.
We take a seat in the corner and order two Budweisers, assuming we'll only be staying for a short while. I start bantering with the bartender about his overpriced wedding, and become smitten soon thereafter. He reminds me of an adult version of the curly-haired boys I went to elementary school with, except with teeth likely demented by childhood metal capping. I become mesmerized by the movement of his mouth when he speaks and the delicacy of how he pushes his serrated knife into limes and lemons to prepare garnishes.
Sorry, sidetracked...
The stuff you care about:
-Beers are about $4 each. Drinks a couple dollars more.
-Local bands play almost every night.
-The juke box is filled with classic rock CDs, including a Mötley Crüe greatest hits
I sure had a lot of fun playing DJ, although it completely cleared out the ones and fives in my wallet. All two of the women in the bar complimented my music selections...and women rarely compliment other women, especially cute, young ones invading their bar.
Ooh, and look! I got a t-shirt.
Can you tell I'm not wearing a bra?
We enjoy a few more drinks, discuss the news and thin-patty hamburgers with the other patrons, then continue on our merry way.
What could one possibly do to top a bar experience this filthy? Maybe watch a movie about guys farting in girls’ faces. No seriously, we ended our night with a bowl of rocky road and this…
Can you tell I'm not wearing a bra?
We enjoy a few more drinks, discuss the news and thin-patty hamburgers with the other patrons, then continue on our merry way.
What could one possibly do to top a bar experience this filthy? Maybe watch a movie about guys farting in girls’ faces. No seriously, we ended our night with a bowl of rocky road and this…
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