A dive bar and late-night kitchen on the wrong end of a good street. We pour it strong, we cook it greasy, and we close when we feel like it. No reservations. Show up.
Cash preferred • Card minimum $10 • Don't ask for a menu, read the wall

Prices scrawled in Sharpie. Subject to change if you're rude.
No fancy cocktails. If you want a garnish, go home and cut a lime.
Monday
Bone-in, sauced, hot enough to ruin your night. Til they run out.
Tuesday
Two bucks each. Get the al pastor before the kitchen changes their mind.
Wednesday
Pitcher + a frozen pizza $18. Team name has to be filthy. Loser buys.
Thursday
B-7 to a Ramones cut. Winners take home a bar tab and their dignity, maybe.
Friday
Local bands, no cover before 9. After that it's five bucks and worth it.
Sun
$5 bloody marys with a whole pickle. We do not judge. We joined you.
The griddle's older than most of the staff and it shows. Everything comes in a plastic basket with a pile of napkins you'll need.

Quarter pound, American cheese, griddled onions, no lettuce because why.
All-beef, canned chili we're not ashamed of, a fistful of onions.
Golden, salty, load 'em with cheese and jalapeños for a buck more.
A mountain. Shareable if you're generous, a meal if you're not.
Ten wings, ghost-pepper sauce, waiver optional. Ranch is extra.
Kitchen closes when we say so (11pm). Veggie? Get the tots and a beer.
The jukebox takes quarters and it's got range — Hank to Black Flag to whatever the last guy loaded up. Two bucks skips the line.

Doors at 8. Bands go on when they go on. Tip the sound guy.
Red door, no sign worth mentioning. Between the laundromat and the place that used to be a video store. If you hit the freeway you went too far.

Show announcements, free-cover nights, and the occasional 'we accidentally over-ordered kegs' text. No spam. We can barely run the register.