Let’s start by saying that the Bleecker Street Bar is in no way, shape, or form a dive. It doesn’t wreak of spilled booze and puke and the bathrooms are so nice that irritating corporate chicks use them in gaggles without screaming or commiserating about just how wretched and disgusting there are. When you have vaguely business chicks hanging out after work, you’re going to have the bland dweebs that love them on hand also. Or is it the other way around? Either way, the point is, no self-respecting drunkard should ever set foot in Bleecker Street Bar unless it’s out of desperation. And desperate were Whitesnake and I tonight.

Being the dingbats we are, the widely forecasted torrential downpour that blanketed the five boroughs tonight somehow escaped our attention and we found ourselves waterlogged and wandering NoHo in search of a drink. Wisely — one of the few teams you’ll see that adverb deployed in this blog — we ducked into Astor Wines for their Friday night tasting. Couple Heavy Water vodkas and French and Italian vinos later and we had, against all odds, forgotten entirely about the monsoon again until we stepped outside Astor Place and got drenched for the second time in a space of an hour.

Desperate to keep on drinking and, oh yeah, stay dry, we made a beeline down Lafayette towards Great Jones and checked out Acme, which was, unsurprisingly, packed. With no other options, we reluctantly trudged down to Bleecker Street Bar and strode in to the post-college frat party taking place.

As lame as this place is, the happy hour special, $4.00 24-oz Yuenglings, is fucking killer. Two of those and Whitesnake was already convinced that every would-be and wanna-be Connecticut housewife in the bar was checking him out, which is usually my cue to call it a night, which I did.

Cuento Cuesto: Not horrendous for the ‘hood but NoHo isn’t known for it’s cheap drink spots. Expect to pay $5.50 to $6 a beer.

Happy Hour: The only reason to go to this gathering spot of future Joisey and Long Island homeowners. The 24-oz Yuenglings are as good a deal as there is to be had in the 212.

Split Lip Factor: Between the corporate types who get to the gym too much and the knuckleheads that are way into mixed martial arts, there are enough idiots here to make any experienced boozehound nervous. 3-of-5.

Huckle Factor: Depends on whether you want to make the trip up to the UES with the possibility of a nightcap on frat boy row or not. 2-of-5.

If This Bar Were A Celebrity: Ryan Seacrest.

Who Would Like This Bar: Dudes who think the flick Old School was a blueprint for how to live life; Arena football fans; Chicks who’s idea of edgy is Banana Republic; and corporate dweebs who just don’t know any better.