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Out of context: Reply #38
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- kingjulien0
Just for the record, last weekend I was broke, I mean spaghetti with soy sauce broke, and that was part of the motivation for going to my mom's. It's a nicer home, there's real food, I have all these sentimental party memories of the back deck, there's this one Mrs. Robsinson I know down the street, the neighborbood is quiet, and my mom's husband has a full liquor cabinet, which I selectively raided. The PBR was his--he's from Fresno, so the biscuits and gravy style is real. I too reject the marketing of white trash hipness--that was beyond cliche 5 years ago. There was this bar in SF called Butter I went to once, and they had a built in trailer on the side, where you could order tater tots (pre-Napoleon Dynamite). They also screened Tron on one of the walls. The ladies were hot but the Johnny Knoxville look was enough to want to choke--I mean really suffocate-- someone. That night one of the waitresses caught me urinating in the sink in the back office--the bathroom lines were too long with all the tweakers, and that was the end of my experience at Butter. But I digress.