Weekend-before-last was the father of my boyfriend BA's birthday. Because his parents still presumably like each other and still go out of their house occasionally to entertain themselves--BA's M&D and a handful of aunts and uncles wanted to go to Hogan's bar. At the bar they all get ridiculously drunk and shake their asses like high-schoolers. For those not in Black Betty’s Bham, Hogan’s is where the 35+ set goes to get their sexy on. (No, I am not yet in this age group, thankyouverymuch. I’ve got SEVERAL years.) The house band is pretty good and plays late 80’s music. Did I mention one of BA's uncles is the drummer? Anyways, the situation itself is just amusing to me. Recently, the band added added Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” to their set. This song is followed by the 80’s homage to masturbation: “Strokin” and a Prince song, “Pussy Control.” These songs are sung by 40-to-50-year-old adult men with grey hair and throwback sideburns. Oh! And "You Can Leave Your Hat On."

Seeing BA’s aunt and uncle shake it on the dance floor kind of made my head spin. So I started drinking.

Now, my judgment of a bar is influenced by the following three mas importante questions:

1. Is the booze free?
This happens at the Karaoke bar that BA and I frequent. Drinks can be terrible if booze = free and I get to see Bry’s below-the-belt-tattoo!

2. If the booze is not free, is someone else paying for it?
This happened at Hogan’s where I was ordering jager-bombs on BA’s aunt’s tab. They were terrible because they served you a shot of jager that had been already mixed into some red bull. There was no separate splash and slurp as one expects with a jager bomb. Ideally, the reason you drink jager bombs because you like neither the taste of the jager nor the red bull. The act of combining them TOGETHER in a hurry is what makes it palatable and repeatable (and effective).

3. Can they make a Vodka Collins?
Yes, I’m under 30. Yes, I drink old school bar drinks. If your average bartender here in Nowhereville does not how to make a plain, simple bar drink and can only make things with stupid fruity names like "Absolut Heartache" or "Sex With A Porcupine" or whatever the next girly drink is then, well, they suck. I may be female, but I do not require my alcohol to come with accessories like pineapple or little umbrellas. I like my whiskey hard and straight up, like I like my men.

A Vodka Collins has three ingredients: Simple syrup. Vodka. Sours Mix. Perfecto. That’s it. Don’t add Grenadine to it. Making it pink doesn't make it more palatable, Bry. No, I do not need a cherry. Besides, I doubt the cherries are there on girly drinks for the girls, anyways. I think they're there for you guys who like watching us put things between our lips.

Hogan’s can make a Vodka Collins. So I drank a couple of them. Then, I decided to start getting serious. I ordered a Dirty Martini and started chasing it with the Vodka Collins. Yes, you read correctly, I was chasing stronger drink with less stronger drink. This is par the course for me.

Everyone was having a great time. I even got BA to dance with me which just makes my night. He dances really well for a big guy and it’s sexy. I appreciate someone who’s not scared of making an ass of themselves in my presence. I encourage it.

After a while the older folks wanted to go home. We decided to move to the Karaoke bar near to our apartment (thank god, the drive’s closer). BA wasn’t drunk, but hell, I was. I don’t really remember much other than BA and Billy got up to sing horrible renditions of Bon Jovi songs. Billy, if I haven’t mentioned this, is "teh sexy." The man moves shit around all day. He’s got a 12 pack and a dick the size of Texas. Both of which have been documented photographically. (We have some wild ass parties).

Soooo, after I’m all liquored up, BA just unleashes me upon our unsuspecting friends at the Karaoke bar. I take Sean’s shirt off while we’re dancing and pull Billy’s belt off. BA’s parents show up in time to catch Billy giving me a lap dance in the middle of the room. I tip him a whopping $0.25 by sticking a quarter in his underwear. I don't remember much else.

That was my night. Next post. Last Weekend: Father's Day/ Work Party/No sleep til Brooklyn.

Labels: Booze, boyfriend = ass, General Wildness

Posted by Lux on 18 June 2007 at 11:11 AM | Permalink