We went to the bar tonight (yesterday, whatever) and it was fine, so much fun, until all the little 18-year-old-if-I-dress-like-a-hoochie-mama-crack-whore-some-old-creepy-townie-will-buy-me-a-drink-and-probably-slip-me-the-date-rape-drug-but-I-don't-care-because-I'm-such-a-slut got there.
Maybe I'm just old (and at (almost) 22, I guess I was) but I have more fun at the bar sitting around, drinking a pitcher and hanging out and talking with my friends than hanging all over guys that work at the bar, hoping they won't kick me out because I'm underage (which, granted, I'm not).
And even though I'm only (almost) 22, I had a total Sex and the City moment in the bathroom tonight. Two girls were standing in front of the mirror, talking about how they spilled beer on their shirts and wondering what to do about it when I told them to dry it under the hand dryer. Which they did, and then said "Oh wow, it worked. See . . . we should just listen to the older girls, they know what to do!"
Ok, it's not because I'm an "older girl" you teenage piece of shit . . . it's freaking common sense. You have something wet on your shirt? Oh, wow, the hand dryer blows HOT AIR, you dumbass! What a concept!
Jesus.
