Look at this…just look at it:

This a a bacon cheeseburger, beer and onion rings from a bar called Royale in on Avenue C and 10th Street. I popped in there yesterday afternoon, prior to a mammoth evening of two concerts in a row. Since I’d be missing dinner, I wanted to have a rather big lunch. It was the third time I’ve been there. I ordered the same thing I’ve had each time.

Why?

Because it fucking rules. There’s a sign out in front of the place, declaring “Best Burger In NYC”. Whether that statement is entirely true or not, I don’t know, but I do know that it’s one of three burger places in New York (the others being Stand and Schnack) that I personally think are the best I’ve had so far.

This place definitely has the best onion rings I’ve eaten in my life. I don’t particularly like onion rings, being more of a french fry person, but these kick ass.

If you’re in Manhattan, around that area, try it. Do it, if only because I told you to.

As I get older, my ability to handle alcohol, in respect for hangovers is getting steadily worse. I don’t drink regularly, so naturally my tolerance is lower than it has been—historically speaking. But, in the past, when five or six beers over the course of an evening would have me waking the next morning without much suffering, I find that even a couple pints find me with a hangover before the evening even ends, sometimes only a couple hours after drinking. I invariably have a hangover the next morning, but instead of being banished after a couple painkillers, coffee and really greasy food, the suffering persists for the entire day. Such is my situation this morning as I work hard at holding the couch down, mug of coffee clutched in a death-grip whilst visions of greasy vomit monkies dance through my head. Fun stuff.