people that YELP are scumbags

ok i just sent back "LOL u sound mad racist"

^^ Pproper response

"GFY" would also be appropriate here (as in go fuck yourself, not good for you)

i just got back the o_O icing on the cake from stephL: "i'm not racist ... i'm married to an iranian"

Oh see, she was just bonding with you by making racist jokes like she does with her Iranian husband.

sheesh

http://gawker.com/5941298/restaurant-owner-creates-fake-sex-site-profile-for-patron-who-posted-negative-review-online

yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesh

"I am open to anything — couples, threesomes and group sex," Simoes wrote in the email, which she signed in Katz's name. "Am especially into transsexuals and transgenders (being one myself ). I am ... a tiger in the bedroom."

lol

amazing

…

If you order the wrong sandwich, like anything with cheese, you'll find a grease trail on your shirt post eatum.

post eatum depression

http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2012/09/11/pizza-shop-owner-scott-van-duzer-on-bear-hugging-president-obama.html

http://i.imgur.com/ELcWn.png

Would Van Duze a slice of his pizza.

feel pretty bad for that guy, but he seems to be handling it pretty well.

Well, tbf, I don't think a lot of trolly yelp comments are going to sway people who've been eating there for years and he'll probably get fresh business out of it.

what a world

johnny otm as far as it goes, i mean, just finding yourself on the receiving end of a hate blast like that

Did he have a distinct smell?

Daily Beast you are weird.

Yeah, that was a little o_O

lol i missed that

BLACK LIST "Robin Hood Pub" 13 Alpha Omega Pi Sq

The Food is Fine here It is The Staff and way the run it That I question

As a Long time patron off and on for twenty years and my family fun nights over the years is at an END ! This was my Birthday Dinner and unfortunately it did not turn out to be the best dinning experience AS for the for the "Hood" Never have I been so disappointed in the Service Industry Lydia the Manager FORCING a CLIENT to PAY for Food that is Not Consumed and when a Client is NOT happy is Paramount to Cutting your own wrists
I was asked to pay for Food I DID NOT Consume nor want
Worst experience ever in my life

FYI

Making a Client Pay for Food is a Practice that I hope is NOT PATRON-ED
AS a Matter of Fact I am going to make a point of mentioning it for the rest of the year and as an antidote for years to come if your Business continues as I am sure it will it will continue to be a great example of Hot Not To Run a Restaurant Successfully in The 21st Century

I could have Not Payed

I choose to give her the money

But I also Choose NEVER to Return

Thanks for the Memories Robin Hood and Lydia

I will never Forget this

Cheers ! "Keep Calm and Curry On "
Just NOT at Robin Hood

Smile its not that Important
:D

:D

Making a Client Pay for Food is a Practice that I hope is NOT PATRON-ED

http://www.newyorksocialdiary.com/i/partypictures/01_08_09/520-Specialty-Drink-Partido-Tequila.jpg

NOT PATRON. -ED

welp, only 45 more minutes till i leave work

http://www.kaboodle.com/hi/img/b/0/0/126/7/AAAACw-3-I8AAAAAASZwDg.jpg?v=1296505250000

and when a Client is NOT happy is Paramount to Cutting your own wrists

so good

http://www.yelp.com/biz/reputation-defender-redwood-city

I am willing to travel for food, and even willing to get on a plane just to go and eat something. SERIOUSLY! Since I haven't found anyone to go to Tobago with me to go and eat Bake and Shark - I guess the hood of Brooklyn will have to do.

Kudos on serving some great fries, but if only you guys had ranch dressing for dipping! I can think of half a million things ranch could go with off this menu, and my beloved sweet potato fries are only one item out of that half of million. Bring in the ranch and I will bump you up a star! (Seriously, think about it.)

what the everloving fuck

uh oh, he's back

There is a giant gaping hole outside of my house on wolfe street. It is like a lovecraftian pit - an entrance to a particularly smelly hell, bordered by the sad detritus of a dead tree that I failed to water...again. I am the slayer of young trees, white birch and dogwood like blades of grass before the scythe.

I walked to Canton in order to take care of some insurance business, and I was suitably tired and hungry when I was finished. The weather was somewhere in between sweater weather and badass leather jacket weather, and of course I wore the badass leather jacket. I couldn't let the city workers on the street outside see me in a sweater covered in cute rabbits - it simply isn't done. The side effect of this manly decision was ending up drenched in sweat even through the cold weather that is currently settled upon Baltimore like a dreadful harpy. I was tired, and sweaty, and fairly gross. That's when I walked into Rosina Gourmet.

The manager(owner?) was extremely pleasant. I wanted half a sandwich and even though that is not on the menu he said it was fine. The sandwich selection is brilliant, and all the ingredients are very fresh. I eventually settled on a classic Italian on a freshly baked ciabatta loaf. While the sandwich was being made I had a pleasant chat with the manager about coffee, and he made me an espresso. I smelled the coffee beans before he ground them and noted their aromatic softness, their sweet delicacy like mown hay.

The experience I am describing with detached adoration is exactly the feeling I had while eating the sandwich on my way back home. There are few times when the character of an establishment is so decisively present in its goods; in this case I can clearly see the breadth and length of their determination to make the finest sandwiches in the Canton area...and perhaps all of Baltimore. The size was perfect for my muted appetite, but if you are expecting a subway style sub that feeds nine plus one 3rd world country of your choice go elsewhere, please. This shop is not for you. You cheap, fat ass bastard, you.

coffee as fresh as the mountain morning, as fresh as an ocean breeze, as fresh as mown hay

can i punch him
pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease

Last week the fall landed with the feathered loft of a falling star. Outside the wind drew lines in the yellowed grass and the scent of the bay carried itself across the street to my house. I woke up, walked outside, walked back inside to put on sunglasses, and headed down to fells point.

It was morning and I had already had an espresso from the daily grind, but I was hungry. The cobblestones were like corrugated footsteps I followed down the lane of my memory, and as I caught the smell of freshly made bread I found myself walking towards Bonaparte. Once I sat in the sun and ate pastries with a pale skinned girl, fire red hair a coronae of my fierce love for her. I remembered the sound of her fingertips upon the edge of a plate, sadness caught on porcelain like the inner rim of her ear. I remembered her pale green eyes and blinked to draw them from my memory as I walked in the door. The past is a thing of open spaces, or should be. The present remains sheltered inside, among the drawn fires of humanity. A shutting door sounds like a beating heart for a reason.

Inside Bonaparte is a little slice of suburban france. The space is utilitarian - a bakery with a front from which people can buy things made on the premises. There are fresh breads lined up like soldiers on the counter, with a sign helpfully imploring you not to touch the bread; but they are so beautiful, the loaves like the warm fingers on a hand, that one would never touch them anyways without permission. The pastries and cakes are next to a display case that holds croissants - ham and cheese, chocolate, and others pastries. Though I usually get a tart, as their tarts are probably the best in Baltimore, I sometimes feel with slight whimsy the need for a ham and cheese croissant. They are, in my opinion, the best breakfast meal in all of Baltimore.

I was told they did not have any, as they generally make them for the weekend. Bad news delivered by a beautiful girl that sank the anchor of my heart - but then another girl(beautiful as well, for they are always, always beautiful) told me that she would look in the back. It turns out that they had made two or three on a whim, and on a whim I bought one to go.

There is an easy familiarity with the staff at Bonaparte and this is what makes me give them five stars. At any other bakery I would leave, shoulders bowed. At any other bakery I wouldn't feel that irrepressible glee that made me hop from foot to foot. Here, I found happiness ensconced in those friendly smiles and soft overtures. Here, I left with my croissant hot and ready to be eaten as I found my way back home - regretting, if for a moment, that the place I had just left was not my destination.

he's got to be trolling with this shit

I'm feeling whimsical, gimme a ham and cheese croissant

This shop is not for you. You cheap, fat ass bastard, you.

you contemptible piece of shit, heaven forfend that my pristine words would ever touch your heart

I remembered the sound of her fingertips upon the edge of a plate, sadness caught on porcelain like the inner rim of her ear.

lmfao

"girl, your ears are like SAUCERS, lemme hit it"

haha dying

There is an easy familiarity with the staff at Bonaparte and this is what makes me give them five stars. At any other bakery I would leave, shoulders bowed. At any other bakery I wouldn't feel that irrepressible glee that made me hop from foot to foot. Here, I found happiness ensconced in those friendly smiles and soft overtures. Here, I left with my croissant hot and ready to be eaten as I found my way back home - regretting, if for a moment, that the place I had just left was not my destination.

"wtf is the deal with the dude bouncing up and down over a croissant?"
"he's a yelper"
"ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

that's what I look for in a good baker: soft overtures

I am imagining this dude to be 53 and burly with a mountain man beard and a fedora, btw

"wants to write on yelp" has got to be my A1 criteria for someone whose opinion to IGNORE

I'm picturing weaselly 25 yo indoor-scarf wearer

i shd open up the thread to see how many times i've said that before

looks like deathdrone, in the mirror sees ed westwick

A shutting door sounds like a beating heart for a reason.

I have a sneaking suspicion this dude either doesn't know how to close a door or spends a lot of time killing people. Possibly both.