And so began my Saturday night.
The rest of the night comes to you courtesy of my little notebook.
Rich O's is fucking crowded again. There's nobody here worth talking to. I'm outta here.
Buckhead's is out of Upland Chocolate Stout. It feels weird here without MixedSignalGirl. I'm outta here.
The Pub has Young's Double Chocolate Stout. Yay! I get one (275)! Yummy!
In here I'm the stranger. I wonder if the regulars hate me. I wonder if there are any regulars here.
This place is strange. Maybe I'll just have two.
This one chick is smoking a clove cigarette. It smells good.
The waitresses here are fucking hot.
I order another Young's.
I get my beer (295). Finally.
Fuckity fucking fuck fuck.
I will not claim that the grapes were sour. The grapes were sweet and delicious.
Oh boy! The marines have landed.
I should have worn my Red Sox cap. Then I could have pretended that I was a tourist.
In a few minutes, I'll have a decision to make.
Decision made. I'm outta here.
I arrive at Rich O's and take a piss.
I say hi to BamaCouple.
It's still fucking crowded in here!
I order a Piraat (135) and I sit in the red room.
There's a dipshit at the bar that I don't like, but I can't remember the reason. He's got a hot girl with him - maybe that's why.
Hey! That Russian chick with the cool hair is sitting at the other table. She talking to some dipshit.
RussianChick is drunk.
This one chick - the wife of one of the PBDs - is about a gazillionth as pretty as she thinks she is.
Fuck! I need to snap out of this mood I'm in.
Nice tits and a decent ass do not make up for having the face of a horse. Not with the lights on, anyway.
Girls with foreign accents are hot.
I'm moving to the bar. I don't know why.
My beer is gone. I'm outta here.