Tuesdays, Wednesdays

We may actually have to start going to Sweet Jane’s on Pratt Street even though the place reminds us of a depressing mid-west Days Inn hotel bar, and we’ve felt like beaten-down tupperware salesmen on a business trip from hell the few times we’ve been there.

From Local Commotion:

If you feel like rocking out, Andre Balazs (ringleader of the band of vagrants known as Bipolar Jukebox) is starting a new open mic at Sweet Jane’s (88 Pratt St.). He says the audio there is sweeeet. They also plan on incorporating a “featured artist” spot into the set.

That’s on Tuesday nights, and André Balazs is like, the bomb, dude.

And there’s a new retro night there on Wednesdays, The Reflex.

Jah or Naaah?

Spotted at Black Eye Sally’s, 350 Asylum Street, Hartford.

Inspired by the multi-million dollar marketing deals of Elvis and Muhammad Ali, Jimi Hendrix apparently sold his likeness and merchandising rights to … some white dude in Hartford.

… who then immediately saturated the Hendrix market in his first public outing. Nice ‘fro, buddy.

Spot or Not?

Seen: late Saturday night @ The Spigot Cafe, 468 Prospect Avenue, Hartford

Possible theories why the driver thought it was okay to park his or her car across the doorway to the bar:

1. Didn’t want to have to ask that played-out “Dude, where’s my car?” question when leaving.

2. Wanted to be able to hear Whitesnake’s “Here I Go Again” play on the jukebox in case Tawny Kitaen started writhing across the hood.

3. I’m drunk, bitches.

Haute or Not?

Scene at: Boys Night @ Tisane, 537 Farmington Avenue, Hartford

Because nothing says fabulous more than matching early 80’s studded belts with just a touch of boxer short cartoon whimsy. We half-expected to find Michael Jackson and Rockwell at the bar when the pair turned around–or at least hear them singing “Somebody’s Watching Me” in tribute.

Belle of the Balls

Well, we’ve always heard about swingers and threesomes in our little community, but we never thought we’d get the chance to catch one so casually in action. There we were at Shag Frenzy at the Webster Underground on Saturday night, happily standing at the bar watching club kids with angular haircuts and indie attitudes swoop on the dance floor to Echo and the Bunnymen (or a bunch of bands that sounded just like them).

And there it was across the room–a threesome in the making, with neither guy seeming to care too much that they had to share attention from the Belle of the Balls.

We even stopped the gents on the way out to confirm what we thought we witnessed, and they just grinned like ten-year-old boys at a high school girls gymnastic meet and winked at us. The black squares were photo-shopped on faces to protect the “innocent.”