rev:text
| - A gay sports bar.
Ideally, you would think that would have you meet lots of men infused with the male hormone... raging on a goal, a strike or a touchdown.
But it was Sunday night, so the flat-screens were laden with beefcake men showering themselves and playing with their tan lines.
Really, who is to complain?
We got here after Charlie's, because Charlie's was having a drag show and those can get tiring after awhile. Plus, there was the promise of $8 Long Islands... in a pitcher. In Phoenix, it seems everything is happily served in a pitcher.
I nestled against the jukebox for some "Fragile" by Kylie and then some Lady GaGa. They have a strict, no slow-songs policy - so my Lady GaGa never got played.
I had my Long Island Dirty Shirley style, with some grenadine. And that Shirley was really dirty... It was basically the equivalent of Los Angeles water.
To end off, I don't remember a lot of things after this. The train became a wreck, let's just say...
|