We need to stop meeting like this. Hungover.
Yesterday included a jaunt down to Princeton for record shopping and yet another lunch at Wegmans. I’ve got a day and a half left on this coast and I’m wondering if I can hit four different locations in a span of 11 days. I think that would be an impressive feat, don’t you? Princeton Record Exchange sure has gone to shit recently. I bought one record (Harvey Milk live) just because it was new and marked down 40% the list price. Even when I looked around for CDs to resell they were all scratched up or the covers were in bad shape. I remember when that store used to be my Mecca. Now it’s like Beirut in 1985. What a shame.
Last night I was brought to yet another local watering hole to imbibe with my sister and friends. This time the we drove to Madison. The amount of lame kids in that tavern was shocking. So many bro’s and sluts dressed for Halloween. It was hard to tell who was in costume and who was not. The general theme for the outfits chosen by the young crowd appeared to be “Jersey,” but there were a bunch of girls (of course there was one super obese chick, who probably paid for all the costumes) who came dressed as the Seniors from Dazed And Confused, and there was at least two Waldos from “Where’s Waldo?” in attendance. Some ugly bitch in a flesh-colored body suit was dressed as a troll doll. There were several football players, Kenny Powers’ and zombies.
I started my night by requesting Makers Mark on the rocks, but before I’d taken my second sip a row of shots was gifted to us by the bartender. After the first Makers, I didn’t have to ask anymore. Drinks and shots just appeared before me. That lasted until I learned that the bar’s one bottle of Makers was empty. Apparently I consumed whatever was left in it. By the way, who only keeps one bottle of Makers Mark in stock? (Answer: A bar that has never had me as a customer) Intermittent shots were provided by the friendly waitstaff. I’ll give my sister credit — every time I hit the town with her I get the VIP treatment. I haven’t paid for a drink all week, and that’s not because I make her pay. She’s got more bartender friends than I have regular friends. Also, she won yet another costume contest for her “cock block” idea. This time she was awarded a $100 bar credit. She used it on another round of shots for us. Oh God, all the shots we did last night. One was a cherry bourbon thing, there were multiple lemon drops and God knows what else. They would just appear in front of us, six or seven, maybe eight (and our party consisted of just four people). The girls didn’t really want to drink the extras so I was there to clean up.
When we could no longer stand the undulating and dancing and elbows in the back from the drunk idiots at the bar (that’s not to say we weren’t drunk, we were just…in control), we moved to a corner on the opposite side of the room and lost ourselves in Photo Hunt for the remainder of the night. Unlike the bar in my town, this one had the option of playing regular Photo Hunt or Erotic Photo Hunt. We chose the adult version, obviously. What’s more, you have a choice between spotting the differences between gay and straight photos. We chose gay, natch. It’s a shame none of my regular drinking spots in Los Angeles have Photo Hunt. Footsie’s does, and that place is usually cool on a weeknight. If you’ve got a lead on a good Photo Hunt machine in the LA area, and it’s not in an annoying neighborhood, let me know. Bar owners would milk so much more money out of me if I could drunkenly feed one of those machines my dollars all night. I’ll have to feed the inevitable hunger once I’m back in town by downloading every available Photo Hunt app on the Android Marketplace. My phone will be my bar. And the radiation will be my alcohol.
We drove home — I don’t know at what time — and I passed out a short while later. I woke up this morning, again, hungover, and now it’s time to figure out what I’m going to do with my day. Football at another bar? A relaxing day at home? I know one of these days I’m going to not consume any alcohol…I just can’t tell if that day is going to come before or after this vacation ends.
