I went bar-hopping tonight. Alone, and intentionally.

I got out of work at 1am and wanted guinness. So I went searching. Some things I've realized:

  • No matter where you go in New York City, a pint of Guinness will cost you five bucks. Some kind of inflationary standard, maybe?
  • I know the jukebox numbers for Squeeze's 'tempted by the fruit of another' at WAAAAAY too many bars. It's 1110 at Bar 81, 2310 at The Hairy Monk and 1810 at the Bull's Head Tavern. I either love that song, or think about it altogether too much.
  • No matter how well dressed you think you are when you walk into a bar...it doesn't help. I thought the clothes were everything; now that I regularly dress respectably, I realize the suit really isn't the point. This is simultaneously heartening and disheartening.
  • Anna Begins by the Counting Crows is an AWESOME song to walk into a bar to, second only to Bittersweet Symphony.
  • Speaking of which...when did they start playing music from my generation in bars? It used to be Springsteen and AC/DC and that was IT. Now? Counting Crows, Dave Matthews, RHCP. The works. Makes me feel accepted and simultaneously...old.
  • Oh, and (for the true server-wranglin' geek girls out there): if you look like a librarian and go out drinkin', don't be pissed off when you get hit on by geeks. YOU'RE HOT, AND WE WANT TO SCREW YOU. Least you could do would be to either a. be attracted to us or b. tell us straight out to go away. I'm so sick of the standard array of bar games that I want to poke my eyes out with a stick. For the love of all things holy, we can take it. Promise,
  • Also: bartenders=awesome. Bartenders who pretend to listen to your requests and then go on autopilot=LAME.

Afterthought: remember when words, like, you know, mattered? Or is that a figment?