Matt "matty-o-furniture" S.'s Profile

I recently recommended Mrs Whites to a couple of co-workers from the south, and I made a PROPHECY! I said, "don't eat this shit at work! You will go into a food coma and take the best nap of your life afterward!"

They didn't listen. And the food coma got them fired. Well it didn't, but they were so useless the rest of the day that they should have gone home anyways.

Chicken that could drowned a baby with it's juiciness! OH SO GOOD! Red beans, rice and gravy that made my heart beg for mercy after my blood pressure shot up to like, a million over eight hundred thousand...in a good way though. If you've ever gotten the meat sweats, it's a similar feeling. You finish eating, completely satisfied and relaxed, and then THE FUCKING FEVER COMES!! I don't think your body can handle what just got absorbed through your intestines, so it flips out. I went into fight or flight mode, hard, and I didn't come down until I slept it off like a food drunk little baby.

Like J.C.M. said, it hurt so good.

For all of the immediate bitching that I want to do, I'm going to control myself and talk about how great it really is for now.

It is a beautiful experience to be able to travel to downtown phoenix for nearly free. With all of the driving I do and the kick-in-the-crotch prices that gas has shot up to, I really appreciate the fact that a buck and some cents can get me out there.

So we were riding it out to downtown to go get totally drunk one Friday night and when we first got on in Tempe, we noticed a bum passed out in one of the bendy middle sections. Whatever. Bum's happen. Most of the time they're more interesting than anyone else around, too. The fun didn't happen with him though until we starting turning up 3rd Ave. At one of the stops near US Airways Arena, he got up and walked to the side of the train that people were supposed to be exiting from, jumped outside really quick.....and pissed a little. Not a whole pee, just a touch. He then flipped it back in his pants and ran back onto the train before the doors closed. Impressive! What a feat of muscle control! It must of hurt to just pinch it off like that but he was pretty trashed. Well, this happened at least two more times, and on lucky number three he bit off more than he could chew and the doors closed on him before he could get back in. The sight of him screaming and banging on the doors as he watched his life (a backpack and duffle bag) glide away on an electric train was pitiful and saddening, but why gamble with your life when you could have picked up shop and pissed somewhere in safety? That's a dangerous game of roulette my friend.

Now, why the fuck did the city let a ninety year old from Sun City pick the hours of operation? That's what must of happened because surely everyone else wants to ride it downtown, get drunk and ride it back. It would be cheap! I would spend the extra money on more drinks to stimulate the economy! WTF!!

oh jeez, how couldn't you like it? The only thing against it is that when it's crowded, it can get unbearable.

A) It's friggin' cheap. I gave it one dollar sign but really it sits nicely at about one and a half. BUT, for that extra half a dollar sign you go from Taco Bell to my girlfriend's nana's mexican food, metaphorically speaking because there aren't really any tacos here. I hate this cliche, but you get plenty bang for your buck.

B) Not only is it cheap! Not only are the portions descent, oh no, my friends! It's actually tasty too! Step right up and let me shove some sweet pimped out BLT in your mouth for you. Of course there's nice, crispy bacon, cold ripe tomato's and refreshing, crunchy greens laid upon the savory twelve grain bread (delicious!). Tambien, there's a nice pesto sauce that does a more than ok job at replacing the mayo usually dripping from my BLT, and thick slices of a kind of sharp cheddar cheese that get's the job done without making it taste like one big chunk of cheese. YUMMIE!

C) There are so many INTERESTING people, from ditzy ASU girls to Biz-Casual-Boat-Shoes-Wearin-Old-Crankies that are getting pissed because they can't figure out why the table that people just left from is still dirty. So now they're going to snap their fingers at the poor bus boy to clean up what has now become their rightful spot in the resteraunt because THEY'VE been waitning in line and THEY saw it first so anyone who has anything to say can listen to them be as passive aggresive as possible. Then they get all snooty and I have something to make fun of for a while longer, it's awesome. I feel bad for the bus boy and the other employees that have to deal with all the crap, so leave a tip in the tip jar up front for god's sake!

D) I could eat the pancakes every day of my life, but I get fat and broke so I don't.

This gets all five stars on the hop knot alone. MMMM! All of the beers are delicious, maybe excluding that peach one just because it's sweet enough for a little kid to like it, which is a good sign that a drink is bordering on gross. OH DREAMY HOP KNOT! COME TO ME IN BARRELS, PLEASE!

The food is pretty descent too. I've only had a few things on the menu and I'm about as picky as a vulture, but the fish and chips are always delicious. Also, when you smother the mushroom swiss burger in ranch, I could cry it's so tasty. I love the way good bar food places have super delicious ranch, where do you get that stuff in a store?

Other friends have told me that I should venture out on the menu because it gets pretty good, but there's something about the atmosphere around there that just makes me want something as easy and quick as a burger or something fried. No thanks chipotle chicken salad pita wrapped thingy, you would feel toooo healthy and I wouldn't feel guilty about you after we finished.

The service here has also always been fairly good, and we've always been able to get a table relatively quick when it's not past ten on thursday, friday, or saturday. It fills up quick around then so if you're looking for a sexy time with some sexy people, you might end up getting a sweaty time with some drunk people. That's not always a bad time though, if you're into that.

There is so much buried treasure in here! Being an avid hater of buffalo exchange, finding out about another second hand store within a couple blocks was amazing.
Now, I've never sold anything to Sunset, but the one thing that I can say is that I'm NOT going to have some bitchy nineteen year old hipster buying my thirty dollar shirt for three bucks cash or ten bucks store credit. Screw your store credit. If I wanted a fifteen year old stussy shirt I'ld go to a garage sale in Mesa.
The selection at Sunset is very good, and you don't have to go sifting through a pile of hobo rags to find the goods. Also, it's all pretty reasonable priced and in almost new condition, not "gently used by some shitty hobo" condition.
That's not even what I really go there for. When I need a quick, totally awesome piece of jewelry that fit's my girlfriends style AND won't cost upwards of fifty or a hundred dollars, this is the holy land. Every time I've swung through casually looking for a gift, I find something more often than not that is better than what I was looking for.
People really should shop here more. Not only for the great deals and selection, but also because the employees won't treat you like trash stuck to there yuppie, hipster, leather boots. Instead, you'll be treated like a nice person by some people that probably look like people that would wear yuppie, hipster, leather boots but really they have shiny, pretty, nice people leather boots on instead.

There is almost always someone looking to totally screw everyone I know when it comes to auto repair. Seriously though, this place is too awesome for words when it comes to people you can trust to work on your car.

My mom took her car to get an oil change at the dealer, and (big effing surprise) they found something else wrong. She had a cracked motor mount. SWEEEEET. They called and told her about it and said they could replace it for a little over ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS! So she said, "Hey, don't do it yet. Let me call around and try to find someone who won't rape my ass." And they oblidged. I told her to call the guys at Sunset auto and BAM! THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS! wtf, right? How does that even happen?

She called back to tell the dealer to forget about it and this happened,
"Oh yeah we already installed it, it's ready to pick up." Said the mechanic.
And then the apocalypse happened. My mom exploded into a million little, tiny, loud Italian women ready to kill mechanics everywhere, and she really called my Grandpa who straightened them out, and they gave it to her for a discounted price plus the oil change for free. That's wierd that my sweet, nice Grandpa can tough talk people.

The point of the story is that Sunset Auto won't rape your ass.
Instead they will gently lay you down and make sweet figurative love to you and your car for a good price. Foreigner's on in the background too. Nice. Most of the stuff I've gotten done there hasn't required some life long wait to get my car back either, it's almost always been the same day, and I've always felt confident that my car won't explode once I get a mile or two away.

BAM MOFO!!! I'm drunk! 2000 instant calories and 60 grams of  fat wrapped up in a piping hot tortilla sounds perfect! Oh but make sure you drench that sweet "new breakfast burrito" in as much hot sauce as you can. Make a little pocket in the filling and pool up some spicy goodness!

In all honesty, since high school I only feel that way after a bottle of whiskey or two. That's a good thing, because if I had continued my eating habits from when I was seventeen I would be freaking dead. hard. Plus, there are a few more places that I'm willing to go to and stretch the wallet a little more for some decent food, not to mention better atmosphere. I see screaming bro's and ho's often enough, but trying to eat at the mecca of the bro world is like trying to eat while VH1's Tool Academy is turned on high volume.

I'm not saying I don't appreciate you, Amado's, but I'm just ready to start seeing other people. You don't even have a drive-thru. Jerk.

This is definitly one of the best places to see a band down in downtown phoenix, even better than Dodge Arena or whatever the hell it's called, Aerosmith or friggin' Man-O-War is not gonna be stopping by the Trunkspace anytime soon. And the admission isn't going to require a donation of plasma OR the blood of your first born child. For such a small, hot little art gallery every band I've ever seen there doesn't sound at all bad, it's always balanced pretty nicely.

Although you're not gonna find any liqour being poured in the building, you won't have to endure a straight edge night just yet, because the sweet Bikini Lounge is within twenty steps of the Trunkspace! WOO! Not to take away from the Trunkspace's totally bangin' soda pop/espresso/lenin-ade selection, but man do I want a strong cheap drink in between bands. The Trunkspace even has a cute little bathroom for all your booze induced pee time! Yes! It's the worst when you have to pee on the back of a building where a cat could or could not jump on you whilst peeing. THE WORST!

Anyways, this place rocks. There is always something pretty/interesting hanging on the walls or for sale near the front of the shop. Plus you can get the coolest black and white photos of you and your hot lady friend taken in the vintage photo booth. The only downside sometimes is the parking. They have a little baby lot right next to the building but it fills up fast with band's vans and stuff, so you have to go park down one of the side streets, which I've never heard of anything getting stolen or broken into but still it doesn't look to friendly. But who cares, and since when has it been easy to park in downtown phoenix?

Even if you don't know a few of the bands playing that night, they're probably really interesting if not totally awesome. Just like books, you should check 'em out.

I understand! I do! I get it that I'm a 22 year old guy that doesn't look like he could tell the difference between caviar and cold salty bean dip, but honestly when I went out for a nice sweet date night with my bangin' girlfriend, we had no idea that we were doomed to be shoved into the day care section at the haughtiest country club this side of Cafe la Ritz.

Everything felt good as our hostess walked us back through the crowded dining room. However, the fuzziness in the pit of my stomach soon morphed itself into a dull pooing sensation as we were plopped down at a table next to another set of young diners. Soda pop and water was on their table, and sexual tension (theirs) was in the air as we lifted our menus to let our eyes feast on the over priced menu.

Our service was fine, with the exception of a few awkward mishaps with our ID's, but the real issue was the food. Maybe it's just my misunderstanding of fine dining, but I thought that really good food was always served in small portions(because of the high quality ingredients, which in turn are high price ingredients) but tasted really really AWESOME. Olive and ivy only accomplished half of this with their veal and spinach ravioli. Wow, I didn't know that chef boyardee could be sold for 14 dollars. It was so bland, super under cooked and needed a serious hit of salt.

On the upside, I got a Sausage and mushroom pizza that was pretty good, but not amazing. Hand tossed...meh. Fennel Sausage...okay. This is one of the top five pizza topping combos and SHOULD be totally delicious every time. But I still think their are better places to get some killer sausage and mushroom pizza for a way better price.

On the way upside, my girlfriend got the red wine sangria and it was delicious. Smooth and sweet, but not too sweet like fruit punch or some crap. It still had the taste of wine, which rocks, but it was soooo cold and fruity and refreshing.

All in all, it was just alright. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I thought that I could have the perfect restaurant experience. Ambiance, good food, good service. I guess that when things don't go right it gives me something to talk about, complain about, moan about. Like the right wing, or bad ranch dressing.