Some say it’s as fun as throwing rocks at baby rabbits. Others compare it to salting slugs and poking them with sticks. We prefer the “looking through a magnifying glass at the sun in Egypt in the middle of summer” metaphor. The scariest thing is that this joint is supposed to be cool (we think). Gone are the true days of this Ukrainian dive, replaced by decor that looks as if Ikea and The Jetsons mated and had a horrible child whose name is cheese. Supposedly redecorated by the folks who brought you two places Mr. Hipster would never be welcome, Moomba and Veruka, this place just reeks of retro desperation. On top of the offensive 50’s space-age drekfest, is a waitstaff who are apparently more interested in chatting with the walls than bringing you your drink. The food looks appetizing, but probably tastes like Formica (to be fair, we have no idea.) In an area stuffed with great places to go, we’d recommend saving your money and teleporting over to a place with a little less kitsch and a lot more character (take your pick, really). [MF]

111 Avenue A