Give Me A Bar...

Choices...Choices



It's 2:30 on a Saturday night and I'm here on the web. Pathetic. About this time last year I would have been stumbling to my car on sixth street hoping I don't kill some truckload of Mexicans on their way to work the graveyard shift at the power plant. In retrospect I would say I had equally as many shitty nights as good nights and a couple great nights out on the town. Either way I'm out 30 to 150 bucks, depending on where you go. For those that don't know, there are two sections of the Austin nightlife. One is 6th street and the other is called the warehouse district. I never understood why a crown and coke is $5 more 2 blocks down the street. I guess it's an image thing. Five bucks more to drink with more important people, I guess. Fuck that! Give me a bar where your outfit is judged on what band or what clever saying is printed on the front. Something with a jukebox with at least one Johnny Cash album on it. Give me a bar where the bartender either has a bald tattooed head or giant breasts with a bottle opener for a belt buckle. Give me a bar where at least one letter in the neon sign is busted and it looks like someone broke a window with a beer bottle recently. Parked out front should be at least one motorcycle that isn't painted lime green or candy apple red. If there is a vintage Cadillac out front, I immediately enter. If there isn't live music, the DJ better not be playing that techno-raver shit. Any bar that attracts an ecstasy culture is silly and childish. Ecstasy is a drug for little girls and sexually confused young men. I want to hear either solid country gold, AC/DC, or hip hop. When I say hip hop, I don't mean anything that involves shouting or songs where the major part of the lyrics involve how many different ways the artist will kill you. Give me a bar where there at least one person is getting stoned or was stoned before he or she came in. A place where if a man orders a Cosmo he's thrown out on his ass. A place that has at least 2 really fat guys or girls with a devil-may-care attitude and has a fifty-fifty pretty to sub-pretty ratio. If I walk into another bar where all the girls look the same and all the guys are wearing untucked western shirts with spiky hair I'm going to stand on the bar and take a piss in the well. With that said, I'll leave the fancy smancy places with the fancy smancy people to all the metrosexuals and narcissistic assholes. Let those shmucks pay $5 cover and $10 for a crown and coke so they can sit around and talk about how much they like the bar's decor. I'll be at Barfly's drinking shots of Jager and playing foozeball with my local garage mechanic.