July 7th, 2002


Just another night in honkytonk land.

Went to a pool party with my aunt&uncle today, hung out with people I didn't know... old people. But I got to lay out in the pool for a while. Then I met up with Jason Barber (my aunt Kathy's nephew) and we went to a bar. WORST bar I've been to in a loong time. There was a country room, a karaoke room, and a dance party USA room. It was the shitty bar trifecta, under one roof. The entrance led right into the country room.. I looked up, and there were 300 guys in cowboy hats on the dance floor, and they were playing 'Pussy Control' at 200 decibels; I immediately thought I was in the biggest gay bar in Texas. (honestly -- last time I saw that, I was in a gay bar in New Orleans.) There were some reaaaly nice looking girls there, and approximately 1300 girls so ugly that I expected the Crocodile Hunter to jump out of the paper-mache cacti and wrestle one to the ground. I was astonished at the physical repulsion I had for these people. It wasn't just the females - the guys were like something you'd see on the cover of a Butthole Surfers album. On the upside, it was 50 cent domestic beers (good god), and the 'bartenders' were the most beautiful things I've seen in weeks. It actually reached physical proportions, ahem, as soon as I saw the one with the little rubber-band braces on. I sat in the karaoke room (the only one where I could sit and wasn't pummeled incessantly by rivers of the chromosomally 'special') and experienced 2 hours of the absolute, bar none, worst singing I've ever heard. Backstreet boys, Country, pop, you name it, it was desecrated at tinnitus-surpassing volumes. It was at the 3-girl, 600-pound, 73-tooth, and 236,873-sequin assassination of 'I will survive' that I noticed that I'd slipped off my barstool and into the 3rd layer of Hell.

But gee, otherwise I had a great time in the biggest bar in Pasadena. Don't pity me, I chose to go there. I was humoring my pseudo-cousin, whom I never do anything with and asked me personally to go out with, and whom I sincerely hope I have filled my quota of barhopping with (father, son, and holy ghost, amen).

In his drunken state outside the bar, he mentioned something about my uncle telling him that I've been to rehab, or something involving (RUMORS, mind you) me and heavy drug use. I wish I'd asked him exactly WHAT IN THE HELL he was referring to.

and to top it all off, my dog peed twice on the floor and left me a present near the stairs.
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