To describe one’s establishment as an “upscale clam shack” should automatically seem dubious to any real man. Therefore, men who eat at Extra Fancy are all too quick to admit that they’re somewhat deficient in the groin area. One willing to pay twenty dollars for fish and chips is obviously more than willing to trade their dick for presumed “status.”
The very fact that Extra Fancy exists is telling of Williamsburg’s continued identity crisis in wanting to remain “hip” but also still appeal to bourgeois gentlemen (I use the term “gentlemen” loosely) willing to plunk down the cash for seafood, along with their scrotum. And so, if you ever catch yourself eating at Extra Fancy, ask yourself: Is it worth it for the “catch of the day” (either a blonde wispy type or the food itself) to sacrifice the last smidgen of your vas deferens?