Dress Codes, Double Standards, and the Eagles of Santa Fe
They call it a club, but it’s really just a private bar where people get overserved without breaking the bank. The place reeks of weed, the drunks slur their way through the night, and nobody bats an eye. But somehow, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was a black tank top. On me.
Shut Up and Shoot: A Pool League Rant
Most people don’t join the bar pool league to compete—they join to drink and pretend they’re Minnesota Fucking Fats. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to sink shots, skip the lectures, and get home before sunrise.