PBR Wishes & Caviar Dreams
The option was presented and after researching further and having the place described as a "metrosexual" establishment, the poet and I quickly passed for greener and less formal entertainment.
Don't get me wrong, places that radiate complexity, uppercrust mentality and lots of people dressed in their sunday best isn't always a bad thing. I, however, am much more at home in a bar that reeks...well...like a bar. The more compact and smoke filled, the nastier the toilet facilities and the more dark corners to slip in to, the happier I am.
Besides, the name of the place the poets latest experiment traveled to was called "Hot Pink"; and I happen to own a 'movie' of the same title that involves lesbians giving it to each other with strap-ons. The instant that particular mental image swam around in my brain, combined with the 'metro' description of the clientele, made us both shudder and opt out in record time.
The place we ended up at was a good ole fashion punk-bar (as described above), with the added pleasure of PBR(Pabst Blue Ribbon) in the can for the house special. While searching for cross streets on Yahoo, I find that the place is just called 'Rogue', with 'Bar' attached to avoid any sort of confusion as to what type of establishment it is.
The highlight of the evening was two fold. First off and foremost was Hell on Heels; and all chick punk band. Most of the people in the palce appeared to be there to see them. I'm not sure if they were there for the music or the chicks; as it is, I had to turn away and stare at the wall in order to accurately gauge the talent level of this local phenom. The lead singer was an extremly tall asian, that in addition to being fucking hot, also deftly weilded a 'flying V' guitar with suprising talent and precision. The drummer was also babe-o-luscious and was the main talent in the band; I haven't seen a women beat skins like that since a certain female friend that I will not mention here. The lyrics were catchy and quirky, but not so much in either category that any of them stuck in my head after a half a dozen pints of New Castle. The main problem for my lack of recollection on the matter, isn't the toxins that seem to constantly flow through my veins, nor the distractions provided by hot chicks playing instruments with obvious talent.
Nope, the second highlight and distraction of the evening was provided by my super hot roomate. I really wish I could focus my crushes and ability to become enamored at the drop of a hat on someone else besides, A) women I work with, B) women I live with or C) women I can't have. The roomie qualifies for two out of three.
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On a final and strange side note, I am still not grasping the resurgence of PBR. Grant it, I have drank and continue to drink a large range of beers. As my alcoholic poison of choice, I have no problems trying new and unique local, national and international brews. There are even instances where I will digress back to the days when I had money to drink nothing more than the cheapest of the cheap ass beers, for necessity and not taste. And yes, dearest of diaries, I relish in the fact that I can get blisffully inebriated at a bar for only .50 - 1.50 american dollars per can. I just don't understand why the kids are making PBR a house hold name, instead of latching on to a libation that actually has taste and body to it. I mean come one, PBR tastes better when you puke it up, than it does when you drink it down.
Alas, such is the life of a dive bar junky. I suppose some day I may break out the shiny pants or the khaki's and don a shirt that requires me to iron and button up the front. Some time soon, I may grab my dress shoes out of the closet, leave the flannel at home and travel to a den of ill repute that sports velvet ropes and signs that read, "Dress Code Strictly Enforced." I might dance to techno on 'E' and rub elbows with silicon filled babes and chat with steroid enchanced dudes; all of which will drive nicer cars than I will ever own.
Some day, dearest of diaries, I may do all of these things.
But then again, some day I could also be pope.
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