Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Tonight after work I went out with an old buddy from college to a biker bar called Kooly's.

I wasn't aware that I was in fact going to a biker bar until I pulled up to the front of the place and saw 30 motorcycles parked out in front.

Of course I go into the bar and my buddy isn't there yet, so I sit in the bar by myself drinking a pint with a nice dress shirt on, tucked in, sitting next to a guy rocking a leather vest, bandana, and a cobra tattoo on his forearm. I tried to make small talk, but honestly what do you say to a guy with a cobra tattoo on his arm?

All of the waitresses and bartendresses were these really hot but trashy chicks, sporting tight and low cut skirts on with high heels. I'll never understand high heels. I mean I know they are supposed to make chick's legs look nicer and all, but they sure seem uncomfortable. I mean I guess I wouldn't really appreciate seeing a bunch of girls walking around with new balance gym shoes on, but boy, it must really suck to be a slutty waitress on a wednesday night.

The best thing was all these chicks were foreign as shit. The only thing our bartendress was capable of saying was "beer?." It was highly unfortunate because all I wanted was to talk to her about the transcultural effect of syncopated jazz on civilization in the 1920's as I ate buffalo wings and licked hot sauce off my fingers, In need of more napkins than a chick who doesn't speak english is capable of providing.