pair a docks

Well folks, the weekend is upon us once again. Of course, all of my free-wheelin' hell raisin', beer drinkin' friends are chompin' at the bit to double their livers in size and I am still one clean machine. It's getting tough though, finding more excuses to drop my thirty days of deprivation and fall face first off the chuckwagon. Looks like I am supposed to go out for a birthday party tonight at the Big Bang. For those unfamiliar, the Big Bang is a piano bar filled to the brim with white trash disguised as normal people and tourists. Yeah, exactly, who the hell comes to St. Louis on vacation. I don't know, but they do, trust me, and where do they go, the Big Bang, that's right. The part that bothers me the most is the predictabiliy. Well, that and the soberness to add to my irritability. I know when I walk in the door some jackass college dropout who did a few cycles of steroids to dominate his fraternity football league and score a few chicks will certainly be there to carefully look over my ID, pretending he knows how to read as I am sure his kind are only fascinated by pictures. Once his brain is satisfied he will hand my id back and give me a look as to say, "your lucky, this time." I can't imagine this creature has a mother. Next stop, trashy blonde girl, no doubt much less pretty than she realizes, obsessed with celebrities, especially paris hilton and passed around the bar like a bottle of whiskey. She take me five dollars cover and gives me a cheery thanks, making sure to bat her eyelids. Once inside I will find my table of friends and give and recieve all appropriate hugs and handshakes. I'll be asked repeatedly if I want a drink and if I am sure I don't want to drink and have to explain why I am not drinking to nearly each and every person. Not convinced, they will ask one last time if I am really sure I don't want a drink. I will decline and they will remain confused at my response, seemingly unaware of why I would not be drinking. I'll finally settle into a manageable state until some redneck pays 10 bucks to hear anything from Sammy Haggar and the dualing piano's oblige with a best of Sammy medley and the crowd will go wild, I will of course be pushed closer to the edge. However, I could avoid all this pain by skipping and going to the opening night of the Gateway Cup in Lafeyette square where I would be more than pleased to watch some bicycle racing, eat a bratwurst and I am sure my diet coke would taste o so much better.