Cally asked me what the name of my GPS and I said "Fucking Bitch." This held true last night as the "FB" continuously would fail to tell me where to turn until I was right at the street. Bitch! Anyways I should freaking know by now how to get down to the Southside, I think this was like my 3rd or 4th trip this year.
We headed to Bar 11. It is not on Carson Street. Little Miss "FB" actually got us there which was impressive but as we sat in the car and looked at the place I was like "Umm really? Are we at the right place? Doesn't look like a bar AT ALL. Except for Christmas Lights which, let's face it, in PA isn't too much a sign of a bar as it could be just total laziness."
We pulled the can opener out of the glove box and I paralel parked like better than ANYONE ever could. I mean Denny Stewart or Harry Beckwith couldn't even park like I did in their Student Driver car. Fantastic.
The WORST thing I hate about drinking in the Southside isn't the alcohol tax or not being able to smoke, it is having to show THIS to everyone before walking in:
Listen, I know everyone hates their drivers license picture but umm, I take the cake on this one. Actually looking at the picture I think I take the cake, eat it (and 10 more of its friends - they never saw it coming). I cannot cannot cannot wait until 01/18/2011 it will be a fantastic day. Cally and I compared pics - hers is hot, of course, but hers also says she is a MALE. I freaking love it.
So we show our ID and step inside and I am like "WHAT THE FUCK!" Here is what I see:
- Black Light
- Men wearing candy necklaces.
- A man in a suit jacket, shorts and ski goggles upside down on his forehead.
- A bunch of stupid sluts in stupid slut dresses.
- Pounder cans of PBR.
Cally and I step up to the bar, she gets an Amstel Light, an Ultra for me. The guy brings us back our change and drops a whole handful of shit on the bar. Umm OK? Shut up. We were given:
- Glow in the dark plastic fangs.
- 2 smiley face mazes.
- 2 large plastic dice.
- An army man.
- Red plastic lips with a whistle in them.
- A couple plastic frogs and dinosaurs.
- A lime green ring.
- 2 candy necklaces.
- A kaleidoscope.
We head over to the table and I then realize THE WALLS ARE COVERED IN TIN FOIL! I swear to God. Here's the proof:
There are metal street signs on the floor and foil on the wall. There is a drum set hanging over the bar. The mirror ball is twirling and umm the Backstreet Boys are playing on the sound system. Drunk guys are singing the Backstreet Boys. Ski goggle man, who apparently is the owner, picks up a drum stick and starts beating on a drum. I seriously said what the fuck like 398 times. A few guys walked by us with "Hello my name is" name tags on with highlighter names wrote on them. Here were some of my favorites I saw on dude's:
- Oprah Book Club Member.
- D Bag
But what I really really loved were the ones sticking to the tin foil on the wall beside our table:
and the BEST one:
I love it. Even the one bartender breathed fire. That was nuts. As the place got busier I noticed that Cally and I looked like a forrest of Redwoods in this place - I mean I am 5'10" and had wedges on but all the guys in this place were freaking short! We did comparisons and I stood beside many of them just to be certain the black light wasn't messing with me. Apparently there is something in the water in Pittsburgh that stuns the growth of men. The water also shortens girls dresses that go to the Southside.
I have another story from our last bar but I will save it for another day as this blog and it's photos are getting long. Thanks for reading readers and have a great week!