Here is a summary of some of the text messages I sent to Leah last night.
“I hate these ‘cool’ bars more than I hate someone telling me their latte needs more foam…that would be a cappuccino.”
“Here’s the visual…go-go dancers…laser lights…techno…whores…douche bags…10 dollar beers.”
“I am going to need to wash the taste of desperation out of my mouth after breathing the air in there.”
…can you tell I hate the bar I went to? the only reason I went is my friend Derek was there, he lives in England right now and I haven’t seen him in 2 years. He agreed to pay the 30 dollar cover charge (Paul Oakenfold was there) because I is BROKE…