For years, we have wondered: Are The 700 Club staff and regulars some new secret breed of Masons? Sure, we have done time in there ó quite a bit and quite more than just “time,” frankly ó but the strange codification of the annual “700 Awards” have both mystified and beguiled even us. The city’s most schizophrenic bar ó awesome on weeknights, hell on Earth on the weekends (but admittedly still hilarious and fun, once in a while) ó†places high honor on their annual superlatives, and today the unthinkable happens: Said awards get penetrated by the media.

The stylish boys had visited their haberdashers for their habilimentsóthe most popular habit being the pinstriped suit, with ankle boots or Converse sneakers, and the occasional white tie. The girls wore their finest frocks, prom dresses or bridesmaid gowns, though within this group remained a faction allied to their jeans, thermals and ski caps. All were so outfitted to be on hand to see who would go home with awards such as “The Biggest Wino” and “Drunkest Parent.”

Oh no! They name names! This cannot be good. No, this cannot be good at all.
CP: The Sev Hunge, Revealed!

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 15th, 2005 at 12:29 pm.