Druck Back a Dirty Marti at Jones, WeHo

I love a dirty martini. Even ordering it is sexy. “I’d like a dirty martini please. Extra dirty. Filthy, in fact.” There’s nothing cute about it. It’s not sweet, it’s not pink, it doesn’t have a sugar rim or a lime wedge or a cherry. Knock one back, rat pack style, and you’ve got license to forget you’re a lady — if you ever felt like a lady in the first place.

What Curly Sue did when she grew up.

Went to Jones in West Hollywood last night and had a delicious dirty, not even realizing that the place is famous for them. So famous, in fact that they’ve bottled their dirty marti mix under the name Dirty Sue, so you’ll be ready next time you want to pollute your martini and yourself.

Just in case you either A. live in a cave or B. have religious opposition to alcohol (shut up, one of my dear friends is Mormon!), these tasty adult beverages are just a regular martini with a splash of olive juice, which tinges the crystal clear vodka with a brown-gray cloud, not unlike the LA sky today.

Again, I digress. There are VERY FEW pictures of Jones, but here is a teensy tinesy one that at least will help you find it if you’re looking:

It's not hard to keep up with the Jones when he's this small.

Even on a Monday night, the bar was crowded with hipsters, neighborhood folk and migratory West-siders like me. The cozy red vinyl booths encourage canoodling, the lighting is low, the music is loud. The food is perfectly fine, and my chicken salad was generously adorned with crispy bacon and cute little balls of fried goat cheese, reasonably priced I might add at $8.50. It’s an Italian-type joint, with a lotta pasta and pizza on the menu, and they serve til 1 a.m., bless them. Gots to soak up the vodka! And did I mention that you can get dirty for just $9? That’s practically free by West side standards.

And speaking of hipsters (oh how I DO go on), must share this Hipster Puppies blog with y’all. MUST:

and that’s the last time goggles mixes codeine and pbr

I know, I know, I’m late to the party as per usual, you’ve known about this since February, I’m clearly a Mormon living in a cave, blahdy druckin blah. But I share because I care. 48 hours to New Orleans! Can’t wait.

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