A few years ago, Blue Martini signed a contract with Zoo Miami allowing their excess cougars free reign to hang out. It seems that over the years this agreement has yet to change.
Blue Martini consistently looks like a casting call for Desperate Housewives and Sex and the City. I don’t frequent this place much. I can honestly say the words “hey, I know, let’s go to Blue Martini!” have never left my mouth. It just feels too “chainy” for me. It’s like the Chili’s of lounges. There’s one in Kendall, that’s the easiest way for me to explain it.
There’s one in Kendall, that’s the easiest way for me to explain it.
But anyway, it’s by no means terrible. If you like martinis then you’ll probably be a fan of their flagship drink offerings. I, for one, am not really a fan of martinis because they’re just sugar + a color + alcohol. It’s like Kool-Aid for non-black adults. That’s a hangover recipe, plus if I’m going to be consuming the shit out of all those calories in just one martini I’d rather be eating six Twix bars and sipping on gin for my booze fix. Zeus damn that sounds delicious right now. I wonder how long I can work like Don Draper before my performance slips enough for my boss to can me and probably press charges for putting my balls on the scanner. I can fit about half a liter of Tanqueray in my water bottle. I Googled “how much alcohol can a 6’3″, 27-year-old male weighing 184 lbs consume before death tickles his prostate?” Results were inconclusive.
I decided to write about Blue Martini because I was there last night. Why was I there on a Tuesday night? Great question, me pretending to be the reader. My little sister, which happens to be a fully-grown adult with car payments and shit so I should start calling her “younger sister”, has a singing voice comparable to the Sirens at Anthemoessa of Greek mythology. No, she won’t fuck your shit up, I’m just saying her voice is that good. It turns out they were having some karaoke-off where you could win $200 if you were the least-shitty singer. I think they do it every Tuesday. Anyway, just for singing you get a free drink. I was tempted to give it a go, but then I remembered when I sing I sound like a homeless man having a nightmare.
…I remembered when I sing I sound like a homeless man having a nightmare.
Long story short, I ended up leaving early, because it was 12:20 AM and I have a fucking career. But my little sister stayed. She came up as the runner-up and won $100 gift certificate to Blue Martini, which is like winning a $20 gift certificate to any other thing. I asked why the fuck she didn’t win, and I was completely ready to call immigration on all their employees, but she explained what happened. They had to sing a song first, and she showcased her awesomeness with an Alicia Keys track which let her do all those black girl “woo woo wooooo” sounds. Then the finalists had to sing another song, but looking through it, their song selection sucks. She pointed this out to the band’s singer (oh, right, they had a live band play the songs) and told them their selection blows, and he threatened to kick her off stage. Who could argue their playlist containing Bel Biv Devoe’s “Poison” or anything by LMFAO?
The first place winner was some fucker that sang Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit”, which I guess was fitting since he looked a little like Kurt Cobain after he shot himself. Motherfucker.
Gimmicky crap like this will get me to Blue Martini, and maybe that’s their goal. To get Orlando Winters to sip a skinny bitch while half-asleep.
People who would enjoy it
People who would not enjoy it
- 900 S Miami Ave Suite 250
- Miami, FL 33131
- (305) 981-2583