Joey's - lounge review

I got a call from Katie, the illest chick on the block, when I got off work. She said she was at Joey's, where she works, and that I needed to come down ASAP. So, like any reasonably intelligent male that knows the difference between his dick and a 9 iron, I did.
Joey's (901 Fairview Ave. N) in Seattle is pretty fucking sick, and it's definitely worth checking out even if you are just getting a drink (which is what I did). By the way, I did not eat... just got a drink and admired the view... which was very fair indeed (as the street suggests), so this is just a lounge review and not a food review... that will come later. Here it goes:



The hostesses are super rad, they even hold the door for you when you walk in just to make you feel wanted. "Welcome to Joey's," is what they say; tip us well, you stingy motherfucker, is what they think. Just kidding, whatever. Every person that is on the staff must seriously have to go through a gene-check, though, because there are some gorgeous lookin' Genepool High Alumni that work at Joey's, like Katie (which usually sways you to round up when you are filling in the "Tip:___" spot on the check, because we all know you're gonna be using your platinum AmEx, you baller you).



In order to prove to you, the customer, that the Chefs at Joey's do NOT hock dog-chow or spit into the food, they offer a super legit kitchen tour. We didn't go on one, those are for tourists. Instead my ass just walked back there with Katie as a distraction and took some safari photos. Here's some bomb French Fries that probably got downed by some of the approchable women that frequent the bar and look for a nice piece of wallet to go home with:



This is the bar. As you can see, there is no real "Top Shelf"... as the same liquor bottles cascade down the wall, but they serve some pretty classy shit so don't worry about not getting your Dom P. The bartenders are pretty good, if you know what I mean, which is hard to find at these upper-scale establishments. The tables were all pretty full with, I'm guessing an average age, 25-28 years old groups. There's booths, high tables, and bar seating, as well as La-Z-Boy lookin' leather seats in the ACTUAL lounge area (it was too dark to capture them, but I'll get them one of these days) so that your ass feels more comfortable spending a bit more for something that you didn't really need, like that extra Manhattan - they also call cabs to the handy round-a-bout in front of the restaurant for you if need be.



This is Jenny, our waitress. Go and tip her. Tip her big. She was nice enough to trust that this wasn't going to wind up on some "Bang My Waitress" site.



I grabbed a sparkling wine, and at 8 bones a glass it was one of the cheaper spirits. I was going to try a $15 glass, but after 11pm, and since it was only going to be one glass, it all would've tasted the same:



After our drinks, we ventured outside so that the weak-willed, yet iron-lung'd crowd could spark some bones. Katie and I fucked around with our phones cuz we be coo like dat. Don't worry, no cute rodents were harmed in the manufacturing of her bomber jacket:



Katie, too, is a sneaker-head, and animals, namely of the bovine species, were harmed in the manufacturing of these little numbers. They died a happy death, though, and I bet they're beatin' off in bovine-Heaven knowing that their Earthly remains wound up on the feet of this hot mamma:



The lounge area at Joey's is dimly lit, but with the sporadic yellow-orange glowing lights-that-look-like, but-aren't-quite-candles, and the glorious bar, you can rest assure that the female you're talking to over a glass of sparkling wine is a dime-piece, and the extra zero you put on the tip was definitely in the change spot, not the dollar... I think. The staff is friendly, the food (although none was consumed tonight) is bomb, the atmosphere is young and successful, and the feeling is good. With the extensive menu, and the have-it-your-way ordering style, Joey's stands out among the rest as one of the finer dining establishments in the water-side city of Seattle.

My rating: 9/10. The place is off the richter, but I wouldn't recommend trying to meet your future ex-wife here unless you are packin' mad cheddar. It is, however, a dope spot to bring a group of people, sit down, get comfortable, and have a drink. The plasma screen TV's will keep you entertained with the game or MTV Cribs if old Joe starts getting too drunk and friendly with your waitress, or if Sarah starts telling the same, "I miss my white Coach bag," anecdote while the other gals console her grief. You will leave this joint knowing that your hard earned dollars were better spent here than at a crackhouse, I guarantee it.