statistically impossible

it's 1:54 am and i just stepped in from a local establishment in addison, snookies, and i felt it was necessary to stumble thru a quick discussion about the amount of scattered ass that was in this place tonight. my cohort this evening, scott made a good deduction. he said "i feel like we're sitting in a sorority convention" and he was right on. it ranged from "i'm 19, but i have my fake ID" to "i'm 29 and i have my fake ID". this is odd to me for two reasons.

1. the ratio of guys to girls in a dallas bar is never women over men, and
2. snookies has never catered to "the beautiful". it's a man's, man's, man's bar. no one is ever really that attractive, it's just a bunch of mediocre looking people having a really great time with the best jukebox in town.

scott and i must have been warped right back to greek circle in the ass end of texas (that's lubbock to you and me) cause i felt like i was back in college (or even high school for that matter) with all this chain smoking, vanilla vodka drinking, my bmw has more chrome than yours, scattered ass.

and i don't know if i was unintentionally sending out the vibe tonight, but i must have had that new bike smell on me cause i was attracting some attention, and i mean . . .

ironically, it couldn't have been further from the truth as it was scott and i, a coupla gaming geeks who spent half our conversation arguing over whether the AR scrapper handled the TSOO better than the empathy defender. we plotted out the next five years of the LAN business we'd start and i, in nausiating detail discussed the 50 yards outside the garage i'd ventured on the beast/my hog/my fetal pig/the bike i'd ride some day.

the surrounding women reeking of Virgina Slims and dancer's perfume had no idea what had decended on that bar when scott and i walked in.