The moment you walk into Dick’s Last Resort, check your dignity at the door. Look up. A pair of panties emblazoned with I heartDicks hangs on the wall. I went to the restaurant for a birthday party and, though I really should have known better, I had no idea I was about to pay for everyone to be, well, a dick to us. The décor is reminiscent of a rowdy sports restaurant, exaggerated by the hundred bras that line the bar. Some have names, some have numbers, and some look like they’re 20 years old. Surprisingly, I liked Dick’s- — it was deliciously gaudy and occasionally just delicious.