Happy Birthday to Me!

After reviewing tons of options for my birthday in South Beach we picked the Chesterfield due to location and reviews - what a perfect decision it turned out to be!

We got to the hotel and saw it's one short block from the ocean/beach and surrounded by shopping and restaurants.

When we checked in George Sosa at the front desk went above and beyond for us. He upgraded to the penthouse suite and gave us nightlife suggestions. When we got up to the penthouse my boyfriend and I could not believe what an incredible room it is. A beautiful, contemporary room with all the space you could want and an unreal private, giant roof deck with lounges, a sunbed and a hot tub/jacuzzi. The room is exceptionally clean with everything we could want for our stay!

Thank you to George Nelson and the Chesterfield for a wonderful birthday and luxurious, relaxing stay. As someone who has been to Miami numerous times, the Chesterfield Hotel has provided a superior experience to anywhere else I have stayed on South Beach.

This Gym Is So Awesome I Want To Set All Other Gyms On Fire While I Am Inside Them.

True story.

When I used to live in Boston, I was a member of the beautiful, regal Sports Club/LA. No, I did not mind that it was not called Sports Club/Boston and thus made no sense. I enjoyed feeling superior to other gym goers when I said "oh yeah, I go to Sports Club." What I really meant was "you don't know what that is because you are a grimy loser who goes to BOSTON Sports Club." Not the same, so get your smarmy, sweaty old-t shirt clad self away from me. Loser.

Unfortunately, I am now one of the grimy losers at NY Sports Club, NOT Sports Club LA in New York. Every time I walk into my local NY Sports Club a little piece of my soul dies and then the corpse of my soul doesn't receive a nice burial but rather is tossed in a dumpster somewhere.

Where are the shining, clean shower stalls teeming with shampoo, conditioner, soap, fresh razors, shaving cream, spray on deoderant (SORRY OZONE, BUT SUCK IT), sanitized combs, hairdryers, big screen tvs for me to watch while I luxuriate after my morning workout (listen, I went in the morning a few times so shut up)????!?!?! NY Sports Club, you just renovated and somehow your locker room rugs already appear shabby and old. HOW IS THIS SO? I don't want my delicate woman-feet to touch your scuzz-rugs. I want them to alight on the comfortable floors of Sports Club/LA.

Sports Club/LA's main floor is so glorious that if looking at exercise equipment could give me an orgasm I would have multiple every time I walked inside this place. Also, my coworker did situps next to Tom Brady here. My coworker isn't alive anymore because he didn't tell me about this until after his workout was over and thus Tom was gone. Oh well, RIP. Don't NOT tell me about Tom Brady sightings in a timely fashion.

When I moved from Boston to NY I went from private practice to public interest law - this required I make some sacrifices. I thought it would be easy. Sure, I can't really go shopping anymore. Fine, eating doesn't happen three times a day. Yes, I know these stockings have holes in them. But taking away my gym...it's more than I can bear. I don't miss much about Boston. But I miss Alexa's Zumba class like it was ripped from my womb prematurely. I JUST WANT TO SHAKE MY ASS IN A BRIGHTLY LIT ROOM WITH OTHER ATTRACTIVE PEOPLE. Is that too much to ask???

The bottom line is if you go to Sports Club/LA it will change your life. Not necessarily for the better in the long run, because if you ever can no longer afford it you will be willing to sell your first born child to get your membership back. Seriously. Sports Club/LA, I will get pregnant (by someone hot I hope), give birth and give you the child if you will give me a free lifetime membership. Okay, 5 years? 2 years? Fine, 3 free months. Deal. I love you.

Pacifico - Please Feel Free To Eat A Bagful Of Dicks

This is the story of the first time Jen S. has ever been kicked out of a bar. It's also the story of how Pacifico exclusively employs a-holes.

You're probably thinking, Jen S. I have read your other reviews, HOW IN GOD'S NAME is THIS the first time you've been kicked out of a bar? Well guess what jerks - it doesn't count when my crazy friends get kicked out of bars and I have to leave because they got kicked out. If I had a penny for every time my friend Matt got himself booted from a bar in Boston I'd have a shitload of pennies. It would be a penny festival in this bitch.

Anyway SO. You know I am a pretty badass lawyer. So my friends and I from my office head over to Pacifico on a lovely sunny April evening to celebrate my first guilty verdict at trial. We are like oh you know what would be fun? Sitting outside, drinks margaritas and not being surrounded by f*ckfaces. Pacifico was only able to provide the first two things bc its staff is exclusively trained to have their heads up their asses.

Events leading up to when I was escorted out, awesomely:

1) We had this big table outside and were spending literally hundreds of dollars. I think at one point one of my friends even made it rain. It was cool. As some people from the group were leaving and some were arriving, our shitty shitty pile of crapola waitress closes out our tab and is like you're done here. Um, last I checked there's still a pile of guacamole on this plate and pitchers of margs on the table and tons of us sitting here planning on staying. Are you serious? So we are like do you mind if we open a new check then since you took the liberty of closing us out? It became this big production - apparently she had to get permission from her manager, her mom, the Pope, the prophet Muhammed and a cute puppy in order to ensure that we could actually stay at the table and continue ordering stuff. Thanks, I hate you.

2) At a certain point, an acquaintance of mine from the defense bar who was at another table full of defenders wanted to buy me a shot to congratulate me on f*cking ruling. So since the waitress hadn't come around since 10 B.C., we decided to go to the bar. We are at the bar and the shot is being made (side note - this shot was the beginning of the end as far as my ass getting booted was concerned) and the waitress storms up with her greasy hair all in a huff.

Shitty Waitress: Are you from my table outside???
Jen S (awesomely): Yes
SW: You know, you need to order things from me. You can't just come to the BAR.
Jen S: Okay well this is my friend from another table and he actually wanted to buy me a shot.
SW: Well you can't come to the bar, next time order it from me.
Jen S: Well you haven't been by our table in ages and actually everyone wants to order more pitchers. And also, this guy buying me a shot ISN'T FROM OUR TABLE.
SW: Just next time you have to only order from me.

I wish i could convey her tone - she was basically yelling at me for going to the bar bc my friend wanted to buy a shot. Die.

3) The Ultimate Issue

On the first tab, which was big, my group did not realize that gratuity was included in the check (lawyers and numbers don't mix) and so we tipped the SW 20% on an already added 20% tip.

Now clearly, this biatch noticed that and just decided not to say anything. Maybe she thought we liked her charming demeanor so much that we thought she merited a 40% tip. No. I hope she took that extra money and put it in her plastic surgery fund. Whatever.

So check number 2 comes at some point in the night (I'm sure without anyone requesting it) and a) check number 2 was smaller than check number 1 and b) this is when my friends deduced that we had accidentally tipped 40% on the first tip. So as that tip was LARGER than the one on check 2 would be, they decided to even it out by not paying the included gratuity on check 2. I hope I've explained this clear because it's actually completely rational and fair and it still ends up with the waitress making over 20% on serving us the entire night, which is kind of comical in light of her supreme shittiness.

As this is going on, I am somewhere falling all over myself and I walk into the convo as a manager is yelling at my friends how they still owe near $40 bc they didn't pay the included gratuity. So not knowing what was going on, I walk up and drop my credit card into my friend's hand like a baller and am like just pay it let's get the fuck out of here. And he is like no and trying to explain what's going on.

Unfortunately at some point either I understood what was going on or I just decided it was time for Jen S. to be heard because I decided to eloquently explain to these people that they blow. Except it came out "djbkdbvjfnkvbsflkvsjlfjsdlkjflkjdfklsnflksfmlak F*CK YOU! JKFHSKJSHKJDSFKJH F*CK YOU!"

Thrown out. Friends thrown out too.

Unfortunately for Pacifico, they suck balls while Jen S. rules all. Zero stars for blowing.

Yes, Tony Soprano, That Was My 19th Sake Bomb.

So Jen S. is at work one day chatting up one of her friends (we'll call her Bjessica) and Bjessica is like hey, Jen S., I went to this f*cking awesome all you can eat/all you can drink sushi place in Tribeca. For $30 you get all the sushi you can order and all the beer, wine and sake you can drink.

Um....WHAT???????????????

First of all, I'd like to unthank all the assholes who let me live here for approximately seven months before helping me hear about this. Oh you didn't know? Well then you should consider killing yourself because this is AWESOME. And if your life's existence isn't to scout out kick ass places that I should be and tell me about them then I hate you, so whatever. Move along.

So I am like yes. This would be perfect for a girls' night. I get six of my favorite girls together, including Tiny (featured in the Central Park tale of the man with the preposterous delts), 0228 (no longer dating Claudio from the night at 230 Fifth...THANK GOD), and several other ladies who haven't done anything insane enough to get nicknames yet so seriously guys, get on it.

We get to this place and it is decidedly not glamorous so for a minute I am confused because I am too cool for everywhere so I was worried it would be the case here. Soon, I realized that maybe Ashiya is the only place on earth that is too cool for me.

We are seated and start looking at the menu, which looks delicious and extensive especially for all you can eat sushi and we realize that my friend is in full on spaz mode trying to get our attention and subtley point directly to our left where James Gandolfini, aka Tony Soprano, is trying to enjoy a delicious all you can eat sushi meal with a random dude, an asian woman and a kid. Good luck James. I think when he got that group together to come to Ashiya he probably though man what I want is 7 hot yet shrill 20-something chicks sitting next to me sake bombing like mfs all the night long. Well everything's coming up roses for James G because that's what he got.

So the rule here is that you have 2 hours from the time you're seated to eat and drink - you might think that this means they will take their sweet time...you are wrong. I actually think there's some kind of internal bet in the place on how fast they can get you to the point where you can't eat another tiny bite of raw fish wrapped in rice and you are falling out of your chair drunk. Not that we did that, because we are ladies.

So there we are, just us, James Gandolfini and a restaurant full of people sake bombing their crazy faces off when this table of dudes behind us that I swear to god stepped off the set of the Jersey Shore starts trying to kick some game our way. Sadly, that kind of game cannot be kicked our way because we have a force field of anti-gross Jersey Shore dude around us at all times. I think Tony Soprano appreciated the game though.

So this one particularly egregrious dude is unrelenting and we tell him it's my friend Boyfriend's (to clarify - she is clearly not MY boyfriend, however her nickname is Boyfriend) 21st birthday (it is not) and that we are all 22 except her (we are not). They get really excited enough because perhaps they mistook youth for idiocy - at age 21 I still would have vommed out at the thought of giving one of these dudes my phone number. So Ridic Dude #1 is trying to mack to her and I look at 0228 and am like "we have a Situation" and she is like "ughhh total Situation." Now of course, these guys get the Jersey Shore reference and RD#1 is like "HEY! I'm not the Situation!....BUT I HAVE THE ABS." And stands up in the restaurant and rips his shirt off.

Yeah, that happened. To be fair, he had the abs.

Shortly thereafter, we left because James Gandolfini was like you chicks are the most badass chicks I've ever met, you should come in my limo and ride with me to a hot club where I will introduce you to seven Robert Pattinson lookalikes. Okay, that's a lie. However we DID step outside the restaurant and see a limo outside and Boyfriend convinced the limo driver to drive all of us to Sway so that is how we arrived at the club.

Conclusion: go to this place immediately. The sushi is seriously good - I mean it's not the finest you'll ever have but it's impressive for all you can eat sushi and you will get bombed and maybe see a celeb and maybe ride in a limo and definitely see some Jersey dudes who are questionably underage.