Drink, Drank, Drunk

Mmm...Beam....

El on Friday: Like all good [semi] alcoholics, I have a favorite bar.  It is the best dive bar in the whole world, a biker bar situated across from our county courthouse with a neon sign in the window that reads “Better off here than across the street.”  There are two kinda busted pool tables in the back, a giant POW-MIA flag on the wall and a couple Easy Rider posters.  Drinks are cheap, you can still smoke inside, and chances are something completely nuts will happen by the end of the evening – I once watched people riding around on a swan ice sculpture, I did  tequila shots with my parents there and I may have threatened to assault a bartender once.  The fact that it is a block away from my current apartment makes me want to weep with joy some nights.  And those nights tend to be Fridays, when this gem of a bar has karaoke night.  This past Friday, I was there with Lo and a bunch of other friends simultaneously celebrating an impending birthday and the move of a good friend across the continent.  I drank roughly a gallon of Beam & Cokes, smoked about a pack of cigarettes and Lo and I both sang.  I did Bonnie Tyler’s masterpiece “Total Eclipse of the Heart” with a friend, Lo chose the ever appropriate “Gin & Juice” – we were the awesome.  (Also, those choices baaaaasically sum up our personalities.)  There may have been some intoxicated Beyonce dancing, and a whole lot of wishing the bathroom was about 20 degrees warmer (seriously, it was about 50 degrees in there…not pleasant in any way).  I don’t remember half of the conversations I had, don’t want to think about how much my tab was and my throat is still a little rough feeling – all in all, another wonderful night at my favorite hometown bar.

Lo on Friday: When El told me that our friend C was moving to California to live with a bunch of pharmaceutical-pushing hippies (only some of that statement is true), I wondered aloud if we would have a party or something for her. Well, we did better than a party. We did karaoke. At the best bar ever. I love this bar because I HAVE NEVER BEEN HASSLED THERE. One time, several baby-free years ago, another friend and I were so bloody intoxicated that we were in the middle of the LONGEST GAME OF POOL EVER. And these nice old biker dudes tried to help us finish. Not in a creepy “let-me-cop-a-feel” way, but more in a “holy-shit-if-we-don’t-help-them-end-this-game-we-may-never-get-to-play” sort of way. I think there was another time wherein El and I had to thumbwrestle a lot. But I can’t give you any more details. Anyhoodles, our waitress was awesome and El asked me why her alcohol kept disappearing. I explained it was probably because she kept drinking it. As El said, we both did karaoke (which I normally do not do – I’m more of an observer) and I did Snoop Dogg’e rabblerousing anthem “Gin ‘n’ Juice,” even though I am a Beam ‘n’ Coke sort of gal. I was kind of afraid that I would get cut for my choice, as the karaoke lady explained that no one usually did songs “like that” at that particular bar. But it seemed to please the crowd and I even got a few hi-fives from bearded biker types and this other young kid who always does shitty mid-90s alt-rock hits. It was a fun night back in my hometown, and even though C will be missed, we’ll always have the photos from that night to remind us that, man, we drink a LOT sometimes.

And the saddest picture of all - the Last Call empties.