Labor Day Sunday Night at Galaxy Hut, in Twitter Posts
Reblogging my Twitter posts (I still refuse to call them "tweets") kind of defeats the purpose, but it's instructive at looking at my state of mind through the evening. Or something:
Getting cabin fever. Heading out to Arlington for a bit. 09:10 PM August 31, 2008
State of mind: Bored. (Duh.)
At Galaxy Hut - the Labor Day Sunday crowd is a lot different, I have to say
I'm more of a mid-week Galaxy Hut guy, so I can't say for sure that all Sunday nights are like the Sunday night before Labor Day. But it was certainly different, especially with the Clarendon Ballroom refugees questing for three-dollar pitchers (off a mistaken listing from some happy hour Web site)
This is kinda odd - like an aging frat boy party, with best-of-metal hits playing on the jukebox
I'm not kidding.
The guy next to me just confused Motorhead with Radiohead (the song, incidentally, was Ace of Spades)
Admittedly, I only know Ace of Spades from that stupid AT&T Wireless commercial.
The tool next to me says, 'Look at the tools walking into here.'
I think the Dragon's Milk (9% alcohol by volume) was starting to kick in.
I'm watching the US Open and I don't particularly care, but for some reason, I'm remembering the name Mats Wilander
The US Open was on the TV. I remember watching the final in 1988, when Mats Wilander won a 5-hour, 5-set match.
Nick the bartender is sporting skinny jeans and a (hopefully) ironic rattail
I don't have a related photo. Here's an unrelated one:
You can't do the robot to 'Don't You Want Me Baby', dammit
I'm serious, someone was doing the Robot -- the part with the broken, dangly arm swing.
The ability to give an orgasm is simultaneously subservient and empowering
I have no idea where this came (ahem) from. Although I think I was at Clyde's for a nightcap at this point.
Anyway, that was Sunday night.
Getting cabin fever. Heading out to Arlington for a bit. 09:10 PM August 31, 2008
State of mind: Bored. (Duh.)
At Galaxy Hut - the Labor Day Sunday crowd is a lot different, I have to say
I'm more of a mid-week Galaxy Hut guy, so I can't say for sure that all Sunday nights are like the Sunday night before Labor Day. But it was certainly different, especially with the Clarendon Ballroom refugees questing for three-dollar pitchers (off a mistaken listing from some happy hour Web site)
This is kinda odd - like an aging frat boy party, with best-of-metal hits playing on the jukebox
I'm not kidding.
The guy next to me just confused Motorhead with Radiohead (the song, incidentally, was Ace of Spades)
Admittedly, I only know Ace of Spades from that stupid AT&T Wireless commercial.
The tool next to me says, 'Look at the tools walking into here.'
I think the Dragon's Milk (9% alcohol by volume) was starting to kick in.
I'm watching the US Open and I don't particularly care, but for some reason, I'm remembering the name Mats Wilander
The US Open was on the TV. I remember watching the final in 1988, when Mats Wilander won a 5-hour, 5-set match.
Nick the bartender is sporting skinny jeans and a (hopefully) ironic rattail
I don't have a related photo. Here's an unrelated one:
You can't do the robot to 'Don't You Want Me Baby', dammit
I'm serious, someone was doing the Robot -- the part with the broken, dangly arm swing.
The ability to give an orgasm is simultaneously subservient and empowering
I have no idea where this came (ahem) from. Although I think I was at Clyde's for a nightcap at this point.
Anyway, that was Sunday night.
Tags:
Labels: bars, dumb things
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