15 Questions I Ask Myself At A Bar


Bars fascinate me. The drinks cost four times as much as they should, the music is never quite what you had hoped it would be, and everyone seems to be there to either a) hook up or b) get married, but the a’s rarely meet the a’s and God knows the b’s never meet the b’s. These are universal truths that we all know and understand, yet we keep comin’ back week after week, like cows to the crowded, dimly-lit, Pitbull-playing slaughter. No matter what bar in what city I’ve found myself in, my inner monologue tends to be pretty much the same. Here, I present you with a small sample of the queries that pop into my head every weekend when it’s time to pAiNt thE tOwN.

1. Why is every single male here wearing a striped collared shirt? Does this place have a uniform I should be aware of?

2. Am I actually expected to talk to anyone other than the small group of people I came with? Seriously?

3. I’m sorry, this eight-ounce watery vodka concoction is costing me how much? I could buy two burritos for that price. Oh my God, burritos…

4. Why did I wear heels? This night was not worth wearing heels for.

5. Do people know I’m being semi-ironic when I shake my ass like this? I am being semi-ironic when I shake my ass like this, right?

6. At what point can I tell this sweaty-faced spiky-haired male that I have a boyfriend? Is it uncouth to suggest that the girl in the scrunchy turquoise dress featuring the exposed ass cheek might be more his speed?

7. Where exactly is the nearest late-night pizza place and how exactly can I get there?

8. Judging by tonight’s music selection, is it reasonable to assume that not everyone hates Lady Gaga as much as I do? Work with me here, people. The woman wears dresses made of meat.

9. Why do girls shop at Forever 21 if they don’t know how to do it correctly? It’s a fine art, you know.

10. At what point is it socially acceptable to order a couple rounds of “bar snacks” acting as if they’re for the group but really looming over them as if I haven’t eaten since I was 12?

11. Why is it that the drunker I get the more normal it seems to take team trips to the girls’ bathroom?

12. How many times this week will I have scrambled eggs for dinner in order to pay for this ginger pear mojito? On a more philosophical note, why did God make poor choices taste so devilishly good?

13. My eyeliner is taking a road trip down south isn’t it? Remind me again why I even bother with makeup?

14. Can we go home now?

15. Wait, we’re going home?? Hold on, I think I need another drink…

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