Temporarily re-branded as “The Drunken Clam” because messing with perfection is a thing.

In honor of the day of LOVE, we’re talking about our biggest Dallas love: the Whip. They’ve temporarily re-named the place “The Drunken Clam” and Family Guy themed the place. We think this was a dumb idea and it was probably done intentionally to mess with our emotions. Of course, we still go all the time anyway because we know Whippersnapper didn’t really mean to hurt our feelings. Also, we kinda like to hate things.

Anyhow, we’re *told* the Drunken Clam is changing back to the
Whippersnapper in two more weeks. We were also *told* it was changing back two weeks ago. So really we have no idea, but we’re also not surprised that The Whip is basically a fuckboy of an establishment that relishes in messing with our emotions.

So, as confessed above, we’re here all the time. Why? Well, it’s a fucking shitshow of a place – or maybe we’re just shitshows by the time we get here. Probably both. From the second you walk up you’re met by an unorganized clusterfuck of disastrous people (this is pure projection) ready to party (we don’t think this is projection?) who may or may not be trying to form a line. The only thing that is clear – but also very blurred – is that everyone is trying to forcefully shove their bodies into this blackhole of a building where nothing good ever happens/everything good happens. We’re literally tearing up, we love this place so much.  Insert sincere crying face and heart face emoji.

Yes, we took this with a disposable camera. Fuck off.

Once you shove and/or get shoved to the front of the degenerate Whip-goers, overzealous bouncers (who we like to pretend live for this ounce of authority before they retire from the *club life* to go to work at the DMV) decide who gets to go ruin his or her life at the Whip that night and who gets screamed at for no apparent reason other than Mr. Future DMV ran out of his fave protein powder that morning. It’s a fucking flawless system. Please never change. Please also do not fuck around with these bouncers. They mean business.

Being cute AF girls (who are also a fucking delight), we get in about 50% of the time (and eyes rolled at us about 100% of the time). Still wondering why the fuck do we go here? The carpet. That’s right, this hole of an establishment is carpeted. Actually, it has several carpets layered on top of one another. We will not disclose how many trips here it took for us to realize this carpet situation and/or how we came to realize that it’s a thing, but it is. Mind your own fucking business.

What does the rest of the place look like? Love. Dejection. Hope. We think there’s a pool table and some Christmas lights. We don’t really know. There’s a selfie station by the door which we recommend hitting up because otherwise you probably won’t remember being here. You probably don’t want to remember being here. Thank goodness *someone* is ordering shots every 5 minutes.

On that note, the bar tenders here are everything we want the bartenders here to be. Particularly if you’re ordering a bottom shelf shot or a vodka soda. Order top-shelf liquor (who the f orders top shelf at the Whip?) and watch them pour you Smirnoff.  You deserve it. Fun trick: complain about this and you will get physically thrown out of the bar. We will find this hilarious. We love the Whippersnapper more than we love you.

Other ways to get thrown out of this bar (we’ll call this a lil tribute to some of our fave people): be tall, stand next to several girls pole dancing with crutches on a table they did not buy (you’re gonna want to buy a table here), have a man bun, wear a canadian tuxedo, or ask where the bathroom is located. No matter what method you choose (or have chosen for you), you deserved it and it’s probably time to go home. Tomorrow-you will be so glad you were not in this claptrap of an abyss one second longer.  In-the-moment you will be devastated.

Pull it together long enough to call an Uber. Or just go home in your friends’ Uber and fall asleep on their couch cuddling their Akita. Next steps: wake up the next day (probably in the afternoon), forget you went to the Whip, check your fire-super-zoom insta stories and begin to fill with regret, declare you will never go there again, wash, rinse, repeat. See you there Saturday. We love you.

Too long didn’t read? Here’s the skinny…

D-List Determination:

  • Dining: We’ve heard rumors that if you go early you can order food from High Fives next door – which is quite good – but this has not been confirmed. We can confirm at the hours we go, a lot of people throw up near the dumpster on the side of the building.
  • Drinks: Please never leave your drink unattended.
  • Dog-Friendly: We want our dogs to think we’re better people than this.
  • Deals:  Try to make yourself a deal that you will stop coming here all the fucking time. Then remember the Whip loves you and didn’t mean it. Return to it because no one else understands you or will love you back how only the Whip can.

Rare photos from inside the greatest place on earth: