Stupidity is not optional

Thanks to M's sister, I had a second Saturday night in a row free. Well not "free" because I made plans with cowboy, but kid free. We ventured out of the Bushwhacker's comfort zone and went to Duke's last night. I have not been back to Duke's since the fateful mechanical bull night when I met mr.redbull, but time heals all wounds and sore shoulders so off we went. Cowboy had told me how does not particularly care for Duke's, but I had only been there twice and that was where KG wanted to go Saturday night.
Even though Duke's and Bushwhacker's are both country bars, they are 180 degrees apart. No mechanical bull last night but the entertainment was beyond belief. I have discovered the reason for the world's peroxide shortage; I don't think there was a natural blonde in the entire bar and I saw at least three completely bleached Gwen Stefani style. If last night was any indication, the world is headed for a self tanner shortage also. A word of warning, small polka dots do not make you look thinner. Nor does the number of polka dot pieces help, thus skip the polka dot shoes. Mini skirts are in, mini dresses are just dangerous if you're going to do anything but just stand there. It was barely within my willpower to not walk up and yank this girls dress over her head.
Usually my fashion observations center on the girls at the bar. However, last night was a first. The biggest fashion faux pas of the night belongs to a guy. Yes, you read that correctly and not just any guy, "THAT" guy. THAT guy is the one at any party or bar who gets so inebriated he cannot function, loses all sight of the fine line between socially acceptable and ridiculous, and usually brings some stellar, out of this world moves to the dance floor. Last night THAT guy provided endless entertainment for all of us. First, THAT guy was obviously out to impress the ladies with his fashion sense in his Tire Factory t-shirt and skin tight faded jeans. Another move guaranteed to get the ladies to look is some air guitar to AC/DC while you shake your ass like a girl missing a stripper pole. As the night continued on, THAT guy's skin tight jeans just couldn't hold up to all the dippin', bumpin' and grindin' he was doing because his inseam split from his crotch to his knee (he was a boxer wearer thank god). But not even split pants could stop THAT guy last night. He just kept dancin' and air guitarin' with his shorts hanging out all over the place.
Maybe if I ran a matchmaking service I could hook THAT guy up with the bedazzled troll from Bushwhackers.