bars are lame.

ok, well, they can be pretty sweet.

but in smalltown hometown they are lame. especially if you just turned 19.

i just love how the dim lights hide the wrinkles from years of working on the family farm, or the scars and bad facial hair from being trapped in the plant. its especially entertaining to listen to the guy in the corner shouting a beatles cover, in a "new" key (dont worry his guitar is stilled tuned to the right one). theres nothing quite like watching the mother of a friend perched at the bar with a guy half her age, gee what a role model to strive to be. or better yet, how the washed up waitresses wont serve you on the patio out back because its too cold. though, i could be wrong, it might just be too far to walk. and there really is nothing like getting hit on by a scraggly 40-something to celebrate the legal drinking age. whoop whoop. 

and parents wonder why the city has such allure?