Friday Happy Hour

Happy hour this past Friday was at the City Tavern in downtown Dallas.  It's on Main Street, right next to this really sketchy looking club called Plush (hootchies + glowing purple doors = avoid at all costs).  I enjoy the Tavern.  They have one of the better pints of Guinness to be found in Dallas (albeit not the best) and a rockin' grilled cheese sandwich (that you can get with a side of mac'n'cheese, if you're feeling extra cheesey).

But, if you decide to go to City Tavern and you're female, you should be forewarned: you will be hit on by weirdos.  WEIRDOS.  And not the quirky-neat-cool brand of weirdo, either.  The type of weirdo that tries a line on a girl, fails, and moves on to the next girl, only to try THE SAME EXACT LINE.  Or, when a fellow makes a pass at you and your friend simultaneously (and trust me he's OLD enough to know better), and you inform him "We're getting ready to leave," he responds "Can't your friend answer for herself?"  Nothing like being rude to put the cap on being old, overweight, and unattractive.  Yup.  Makes me want a guy every time.

Granted, there are some of the strain of quirky-neat-cool almost-but-not-quite-weirdos at the Tavern, such as the gentleman and his lady who came in wearing Victorian garb.  He carried a cane, had enormous mutton chops, a top hat, and was wearing a frock coat (as opposed to the more ostentatious cutaway).  She wore a scandalously low-cut day gown and I'd be willing to bet money there was a corset under there (no woman is that thin, naturally).  Kind of made me wish I had Victorian clothes to wear around town.  Maybe I'll whip some up in my spare time.