The Siege of Malta: Mediterranean Sea, 1565.
The Battle of Trafalgar: English Channel, 1805.
The Clash of the Remote-Control Battleships: Crazy New Hollywood Bar, tonight.
Damn the torpedoes at Las Palmas Furniture Warehouse, a gloriously insane neighborhood bar filled with piñatas, Simpsons and remote-control submarines doing battle in an aquarium, now open in Hollywood.
First off: it’s not a furniture store. (And it’s definitely not Laurel Hardware.) Just a place to hole up in whatever you’re wearing, with whoever you’re with, when you all want beers, Old Fashioneds, burgers, honey-bacon skins and fried apple pies in a room that could best be described as...
We don’t know. It’s a room with Simpsons statues, dinosaur piñatas, punk posters, random neon signs, arcade games and a jukebox. A sensory-overload kind of room. An amazing kind of room. But if it’s all too much, know there’s a breezy patio outside. With an upsetting painting of a creepy clown. So maybe stay inside.
Anyway, that’s where things get real, inside at the bar: you, a friend and two remote controls, battling with submarines floating in a tank filled with rubber ducks and sharks until someone admits defeat.
And your reign over bath time was legendary...
The Battle of Trafalgar: English Channel, 1805.
The Clash of the Remote-Control Battleships: Crazy New Hollywood Bar, tonight.
Damn the torpedoes at Las Palmas Furniture Warehouse, a gloriously insane neighborhood bar filled with piñatas, Simpsons and remote-control submarines doing battle in an aquarium, now open in Hollywood.
First off: it’s not a furniture store. (And it’s definitely not Laurel Hardware.) Just a place to hole up in whatever you’re wearing, with whoever you’re with, when you all want beers, Old Fashioneds, burgers, honey-bacon skins and fried apple pies in a room that could best be described as...
We don’t know. It’s a room with Simpsons statues, dinosaur piñatas, punk posters, random neon signs, arcade games and a jukebox. A sensory-overload kind of room. An amazing kind of room. But if it’s all too much, know there’s a breezy patio outside. With an upsetting painting of a creepy clown. So maybe stay inside.
Anyway, that’s where things get real, inside at the bar: you, a friend and two remote controls, battling with submarines floating in a tank filled with rubber ducks and sharks until someone admits defeat.
And your reign over bath time was legendary...
