Betty Danger's ***3/5 stars

Sup, bro? Welcome to Betty Danger's freaky mini golf course. Are you stoked yet?

How 'bout now? Cool. Let's check out the "open air" patio. Fountain, horse head, fireplace. Check. Country Club kitsch.

Look at these jerks! Okay, the baby's not a jerk, but everyone else is. Notice that we closed our garage door. We were sternly reprimanded for that later... I'm not kidding. Place is kinda snobby, ironically.

Surprise! We're drinking before noon again. Bloody was okay, but not the accoutrement. What a disappointing celery shaft!

Okay, so you can't find effing anything in these menus...the brunch is all over the place  mixed in with things that are clearly not brunch. Like chips and guacamole. Chips and guacamole is not brunch. I'm going on record. Don't argue with me!

Biz-ness time. Here's Faberge Eggs: looks like hobo breakfast, tastes like fabulous. Brett Bullion, check that grammar and punctuation. It can't be right...

They call this the Montauk Meltie, but it's obviously a freaking quesadilla. Don't B.S. me, Betty. The word is that this actually tastes pretty jammin'. In my opinion, if your order a "Meltie" here, you're paying too much for it.

My Plaid Morning hash. This was pretty outstanding, not gonna lie.

The basic Clubhouse breakfast was extra special with corn bread.

We got more o' that. So tasty.

And pancakes for the table. Wow. They were delicious.

Let's wrap up with a large sandwich. The Eldridge is spicy braised beef with a side of mash. This is a bold brunch move, sir. Bold.

Oh look! Someone got a margarita. Notice the custom stir stick...

And, bathroom break. This bathroom is the prettiest bathroom in the whole wide world. I'm serious.

When you're done with that you can pay $15 for some biscuits and a ferris wheel ride. Tinder dates, get on this shit! ....Wild Horses....... (If you got that joke, let's be friends.)

So, Betty Danger's. Good food, bitchy service (btw), and a ferris wheel, mf'r. Worth a trip for the spectacle that it is, but not sure if it's worth a trip back, unless Tinder date is paying.

Word.

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.