Thursday may be my favorite day of all days. Number one, its named for Thor, the Norsk God who had a huuggeee fucking hammer, and used it as much as I would have had I had it. I mean, a day named after a badass like this really should just be a holiday every week, we'll call it the BAMF day (badass motherfucker).
It kind of sucks that the Grasshopper decided to be a bunch of pussies and get rid of dollar beers on Thursday nights, as this was by far my favorite thing to do at night. I dig that bar, mostly because it's not really like the rest of the bars in Wayne. There's a lack of guineas there, which means that those gold chain wearing, open shirted, collar popped pricks are nowhere around (they're all at the Greenhouse). Which is great for me.
Of course, I think they would still have dollar beers if me and my buddies weren't such drunks. I don't think they like the fact that we'd put down a ten or a twenty and buy just as many beers at one time, getting super drunk in a matter of an hour or so. Bad things tend to ensue...and by bad I mean bottle breaking and fight starting (at least). But hey, we fight the good fight, you know?
They even ditched the damn video DJ, which really sucks, because he was awesome. Just like a normal DJ, except besides playing the song, he played the video on a big-ass overhead projector, and it would also play on half the TV's. He'd always play Christina Aguilera's Dirrty video, and that was probably the only time you'd see us all quiet at a bar...there's just something about that video that cannot be put into words. Either that, or that pink thong she wears is really just something to control men's minds and sell more CD's.
Of course, when you can watch that video, and then the next one is some live version of an Eagles song, well, that makes for a kickass night. I guess it's just the natural progression of things, though, because even I had started to get sick of going to the same bar every night. I mean, dollar beers are awesome, but I need a change of scenery once in a while. In a way, I kind of limit myself with my "No Cover Charge" rule, which I generally unequivocally stand by (I don't pay cover charges. Ever. Those bastards should be paying me to be there). It limits me on where I can go, but its better off, because if a place has a ten dollar cover, then I can't afford to drink there anyway. Same goes for fancy clothes; if I can't wear jeans and a t-shirt there, then fuck'em, I'm not going. I know, this is where the hot broads hang out, but man I don't think I could deal with a girl who pays $11 for a drink...or makes me pay $11 for a drink. I could buy a 30 pack of Keystones for that and be drunk all night.
Anyway, music has an incredibly important influence on me when I'm drunk, so that's why that video DJ was awesome. Someone goes and puts on the slow version of "Listen To Your Heart", and all I want to do is slam someone's fucking head into the wall- I mean, way to kill the fucking mood man! Now, if someone throws on some old school GNR, those are fightin' songs, especially Welcome to the Jungle. I'll hit that guy that just bought me a beer, just because that song came on, and its just cooler if you're fighting to it. I think this is written in New Jersey law somewhere, but I could be wrong..."If Guns N' Roses doth come on, though must hitteth thy nearest strangerth". Its one of those old laws from the 1690s I believe, like the ones that ban blowjobs.
The best stuff to put on is the classics- "Paradise City", Billy Idol, "Sweet Home Alabama", Buckcherry, AC/DC...you can't go wrong with good ole wild drinking songs. As long as we stay away from that shit techno stuff, I'm a happy guy, and I'll have no problems with anybody. Except for that fucking DJ at the Greenhouse....if you could see me now, I'm shaking my fist (Billy Idol style) in rage at that fucking bastard...HOW DARE YOU FUCK WITH JOAN JETT!
No comments:
Post a Comment