With uproarious laughter
The new Juice might as well have been written by Tim and I. In fact, I am certain we would have made it 2000 leagues better.
And the same people probably would have appeared in it.
I shouldn't be surprised to find some familiar names and faces in this issue of Juice, though, because it happens to be the bar guide.
Stefanie, Alyssa, TJ Spurgin...countless faces that I recognize but can't put names to.
There is a creepy picture of TJ at The Garden giving the 'come hither' motion to someone off camera.
Alyssa is quoted as saying, "If you want a bar like Drink, go to Drink. If you want a good bar, go to the Lift."
I would have said, "If you want a boring bar, go to The Lift." but then again, I've only been there twice, so I probably should just be quiet. I don't want to offend the die-hard devotees of iPod Monday.
I should mention that when I read her quote to a pair of my co-workers they responded with uproarious laughter.
Did you people know that Vaudville Mews was smoke-free? Of course you did. Molly and I are probably the only two people in Des Moines who didn't know. Cause we totally smoked in there. I can't believe the smoke nazis didn't tear us apart.
Juice also pointed out the strangely small number of pool tables at Rack & Roll. It's called RACK and fricking ROLL and they have THREE pool tables. Isn't there some truth-in-advertising law they're breaking?
And they never mention either Stix location, which I believe is probably the best bar in Des Moines after High Life.
I just decided I'm going to quit my job and fulfill my dream of wandering the country hustling pool in various bars. It would be GLORIOUS! I wake up in the front seat of my car, still hung over from the night before. Big black bruise on the side of my face where a pool cue had connected with my cheekbone.
I pull a bottle of Black Velvet from under the seat and take a swig.
Pull a smoke from the pack on the dashboard and stick in my mouth. I light it and inhale. The dirty tar covers the taste of vomit in my mouth.
I lean back in the seat and fish the keys from my hip pocket. While I drunkenly fumble with the keys my mind begins to clear and I remember the night before. I and my trusty, custom made two-piece pool cue had trounced on a bar full of bikers and taken them for everything they had. Unfortunately I used most of the money to buy myself glasses of whiskey, and was far too drunk to do anything about it when the bikers decide that if they can't beat me at pool, they'll settle for just beating me.
It will be at this moment that I will realize that I would have been better off drinking martinis at The Lift.
Actually, scratch all that. I'll just hustle pool at Drink. Bunch of rich kids who don't know how to play but sure know how to arrogantly lay down some cash trying to impress their girl.
Oh yeah, that's definitely the way to go.
What the fuck was I thinking hustling bikers in the first place? They're FUCKING BIKERS! What did I think would happen? Of course I'd spend the next day trying to pull the bottom half of my pool cue out of my ass. Duh.
And the same people probably would have appeared in it.
I shouldn't be surprised to find some familiar names and faces in this issue of Juice, though, because it happens to be the bar guide.
Stefanie, Alyssa, TJ Spurgin...countless faces that I recognize but can't put names to.
There is a creepy picture of TJ at The Garden giving the 'come hither' motion to someone off camera.
Alyssa is quoted as saying, "If you want a bar like Drink, go to Drink. If you want a good bar, go to the Lift."
I would have said, "If you want a boring bar, go to The Lift." but then again, I've only been there twice, so I probably should just be quiet. I don't want to offend the die-hard devotees of iPod Monday.
I should mention that when I read her quote to a pair of my co-workers they responded with uproarious laughter.
Did you people know that Vaudville Mews was smoke-free? Of course you did. Molly and I are probably the only two people in Des Moines who didn't know. Cause we totally smoked in there. I can't believe the smoke nazis didn't tear us apart.
Juice also pointed out the strangely small number of pool tables at Rack & Roll. It's called RACK and fricking ROLL and they have THREE pool tables. Isn't there some truth-in-advertising law they're breaking?
And they never mention either Stix location, which I believe is probably the best bar in Des Moines after High Life.
I just decided I'm going to quit my job and fulfill my dream of wandering the country hustling pool in various bars. It would be GLORIOUS! I wake up in the front seat of my car, still hung over from the night before. Big black bruise on the side of my face where a pool cue had connected with my cheekbone.
I pull a bottle of Black Velvet from under the seat and take a swig.
Pull a smoke from the pack on the dashboard and stick in my mouth. I light it and inhale. The dirty tar covers the taste of vomit in my mouth.
I lean back in the seat and fish the keys from my hip pocket. While I drunkenly fumble with the keys my mind begins to clear and I remember the night before. I and my trusty, custom made two-piece pool cue had trounced on a bar full of bikers and taken them for everything they had. Unfortunately I used most of the money to buy myself glasses of whiskey, and was far too drunk to do anything about it when the bikers decide that if they can't beat me at pool, they'll settle for just beating me.
It will be at this moment that I will realize that I would have been better off drinking martinis at The Lift.
Actually, scratch all that. I'll just hustle pool at Drink. Bunch of rich kids who don't know how to play but sure know how to arrogantly lay down some cash trying to impress their girl.
Oh yeah, that's definitely the way to go.
What the fuck was I thinking hustling bikers in the first place? They're FUCKING BIKERS! What did I think would happen? Of course I'd spend the next day trying to pull the bottom half of my pool cue out of my ass. Duh.
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