. . . at the ELBOW ROOM in Sparks, Nevada. Better hurry before the Marina gets wind of this.
[photo by chartno3]
I was one of the many people who were mortally crushed when our own goddamn city cracked down on the delicious nectar of Sparks. Great memories, such as pounding back 3 of these bad boys between 7 stops on the Green Line in Boston before seeing Snakes on a Plane (result: I was constantly hissing for 90 minutes in the theater, which I guess is risk-taking behavior), seemed like they were being robbed from me and future generations of completely irresponsible 20-somethings. Luckily SFoodie, the best blog of all time, has both delivered and reviewed a formula for “Bathtub Sparks.” The result? “This is the best day of my life.”
What are your favorite Sparks memories? Don’t tell me in the comments, because I don’t give a fucking shit.