Glam Doll ****4/5 stars / Tinto **2.25/5 stars

When the previous night's events involve Transmission at First Ave. and 8 million cocktails, you must do brunch. And you must do it hard. So why not hit two, maybe three places, and start with the mecca of MPLS donuts.

Glam doll is just that. Adorable, retro, sweet and pink. Bonus: we had a coupon for a free donut from Thursday night's Trivia Mafia at Mac's. 3rd place, bitches! Don't hate.

So we ordered three: the lemon cream cheese thing (my favorite), the Surly bacon beer thing (too smoky) and the peanut butter sri racha thing...wha??? Actually that one's pretty good.

Per our original plan, we rolled down the street to the Copper Hen. According to the host, they were completely booked. The place looks like somewhere you'd have an effing baby shower. We were dressed in the remnants of last night's party clothes, streaks of mascara and pillow-styled hair.  I felt like a hooker trying to shop on Rodeo drive. "We don't have anything for YOU here..."

On to plan B, Tinto, which has recently overtaken the old Spill the Wine on Lake and Bryant.

I have to say they did a really great job re-designing the interior. Colorful, bright and open. You might have a baby shower here, but it would be the kind where everyone drinks too much tequila, goes down the street and buys leather whips at Bondesque. You know, that kind.

Sweet mural.

Oooooo, decorative pillows!

The menu is full of mexican delights, obvi. We ordered up giant waters, and some chasers. The bloody mary here is pretty fantastic.

Our server was a little spacey. He was also playing bartender, but didn't bring us straws for our drinks. Ice water without a straw is a crotch bath waiting to happen.

So here we have the chorizo benny, which was actually quite underseasoned, and Kel said the corn cakes were soggy and underwhelming.

This is the juevos rancheros. Pretty standard and underseasoned as well. The potatoes are fried with jalapenos. Not bad. Kelly had to ask for hot sauce. They brought some special stuff from the kitchen, which was the bomb. Why'd we have to ask?

The best part about this brunch, other than the bloody, was the live jazz band that they slammed into this crevice in the back. Now, I have to admit that I have been very vocal about the fact that I hate jazz, but this was the easy Sunday morning kind. I dug it, but was really hoping for drunk mariachis...

So, there you have it. The hangover tour that started better than it ended. Ya win some, ya lose some. Up next week: best brunches to take your baby, the sequel to tequila bondage baby shower. Oh wait, we already covered that one. See: Gay 90s Drag and Eggs.

Buh-bye now.

Gay 90s - Eggs & Drag ***3/5 stars

It's a brisk winter Sunday morning as you shuffle down the street, trash blowing like tumble weeds across a deserted Hennepin Ave. You spot the tiny, bubble-lettered chalk sign and duck behind the paint-flaked door, not knowing what to expect. In front of you are two elderly women, one escorting the other with a walker. Follow them into the next room and behold the wonder that is Eggs and Drag.

The stage beckons with a thousand LED icicles, club music blasting. Lotsa interesting characters...I spot a group that looks like they just got off the magical mystery tour, a  bachelorette party decked out in boas, grandmothers, dads, kids. More than a few kids. We're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.

This was my biggest Bad Eggs event to date with a reservation for 14. Anyone that wants to experience Eggs and Drag is on top of my list of winners in life.

Party people: Adam, Leah, Jenny, Linds, Dave

Nicki, Heather, Kevin with last night's cake.

J-Lo Birthday Babe, Moi, Bernadette

Kel, Stephonics. Trouble.

So we sat around for about 15 minutes before our server came to take our drink order. We opted for the $10 bottomless cheap champagne and OJ. The regular bar drinks were overpriced, but in retrospect I would have paid more for less sugar shock and more buzz. Note: you can purchased an additional bottle of champagne for $12 to "water down" your mimosa. Yeah, we might have done that.

Dette pours.

The brunch bell rings and a stampede rushes toward the buffet, which features a variety of standard buffet items. Fourteen dollars gets you cold scrambled eggs, soggy cheesy hashbrowns, biscuits and gravy, waffles, meats, omlette bar (nice touch), various carb-loaded desserts. Sorry for the bad lighting, but we in da club, yo.

Wagon wheels and disco balls...?

Totally edible.

The lights dim and our host appears, Brandonna Dupri LaReese, reigning Miss Gay Minnesota United States. She was most fabulous.

The acts were quite entertaining. I got my pop music fix and got to see some high-energy performances. These girls don't mess around.

Did I mentioned the children? One of the most bizarre experiences was watching this little boy dressed in "drag" jump up on stage and dance for dollars. I realized that Queens are really nothing more than real life Disney princesses to these kids. They were loving it. Made me consider, very briefly, having a child just so I could bring them here.

Kissing babies & taking their money.

We ended staying for the entire 3-hour show. All of it. All of the drag, all of the mimosas, all of that padded ass. Couldn't get enough.

Beyonce, bitch.

You must do this. Don't do it for the food. The food is an afterthought. Support this amazing community and have some damn fun. Everybody needs more drag in their lives. And more dick...

Our favorite: @Karmareelee

The Hen House **2.5/5 stars

Downtown. It's hard to park. Downtown. It's a clusterfu*k. Downtown. Why do I ever gooooooo..... Downtown?

Cuz I heard about this place that's organic and local and has a full bar. And I'm a sucker for new places. And I'm a sucker for brunch.

Nice...rooster...

Free samples.

Wait a minute!!!

Nobody told me this was a glorified Perkins?!

But wait...they have booze. Okay, let's do this.

Truth: this place was jammin' busy. Truth: this place is huge. We got seated in the way back amongst a row of empty booths. It's like they knew we were going to be trouble...

She's planning to sabotage someone or something.

Consolation for a broken futon.

So we sat in our VIP booth and ordered up some bottomless things. The OJ here is majorly fresh squeezed. Like, majorly. Awesome.

All day, son.

An then we got some food... So this is a pretty standard omelette with toast.

Some shitty juevos and some hashbrowns that were promising until we realized they were heavily bathed in Lawry's Seasoned Salt. When you say Lawry's, you have to say it with a long drawl like Laaaa-reeeeeee's and then talk about how you put it on everything, even your oatmeal.

And the chicken and waffles was by far the biggest disappointment of the day. Especially since Lilah dragged her hungover ass all the way down here for some life revival. And what she got was a chicken strip with some dry cabbage on an Ego. Frown face.

The one saving grace, and it always is, was the fresh OJ and vodka, and the tiny baby mimosa that our server empathetically gifted me because she didn't want me to have to watch empty-handed while Nick and Lil finished their 4th beverage to my 3rd. What a peach!

The view from the back window is the Mpls Club building. Rich, fancy people hang out there. You're reading Bad Eggs, so you wouldn't understand that lifestyle. But what you do understand is dammmnnn, that Laaaaa-reeeeee taste good.

That .5 was for the sympathy mimosa. Outstanding.

Bye now.

Le Town Talk Diner ***3/5 stars

So, it's a new year. I don't know about you, but this season always puts me through the ringer. Many an anxious xmas vacation eve was spent alone with my thoughts, lamenting the mistakes of years past, which then spit me out into NYE ready for total destruction. I was basically army crawling through balloons and streamers and stupid happy kissing couples with a bottle of whisky for a gun. Oof. It got deep. Well now that that b.s. is over, I'm here to say: When life gives you lemons, say fuck those lemons and go to brunch... at Le Town Talk.

Guess what? Somebody bought the ol' Town Talk Diner and turned it french by putting le hat on the sign. Clever. Whenever I think of the french I think of red lipstick and cigarettes. So that's fun.

If your champagne bubbled brains have memories of ol' TTD, they are probably fond. Therefore, the second you walk in the door, you feel a warm embrace, not like from your mom, more like from your crazy drunk aunt. Still sporting the classic diner counter in front and some new neon in the dining area, L'TTD did good. Me 'n my ladies settled in for a good bitch sesh and some bottomless mimosas.

The menu is petite. Crepes, a benny, a burger, some classic eggs and 'nola (known to layfolk as granola.)

So here's the thing about crepes. I've never met a savory one that did it for me. They always taste kinda dried out and rubbery...kinda like chewing on a paper towel. Gross. Maybe I just haven't been to France. Nope. Have not.

The sweet, on the other hand, makes mama happy. The pear nutella crepe here is pretty outstanding. I'm still trying to figure out if that nutty turd garnish was intentional. The fruit bowl was kinda like wtf is happening over here. Kindergarten snack time? I'm confused, but my mouth is happy.

The benny is served on a brioche type bun. That hollandaise looks like pure butter. Jennifer was diggin' it.

Steak and eggs was hella good and the potatoes beat the crap out of most I've had lately.

So there you have it. Decent brunch in a cozy, familiar location with bottomless mimosas. Bring all your besties and be good to yourselves. New year, no fear.

Peace.