dive bars
So every bar in Provo is a dive bar by those definitions. Then again, if you're a bar in the most Mormon town in Mormondy, it's automatically going to be furtive, a little sleazy, and filled with the kind of people who aren't likely going to show up in appropriate garb for Family Home Evening.
I might enjoy the place, if I could be sure there wasn't going to be clandestine, rebellious smoking going on. The lungs just can't deal with that anymore.
(It's probably the best thing about Utah, the extreme lack of smoking. When I went go to Nevada border gambling towns, I come back reeking of smoke and apologizing to my lungs.)
I hire someone to play me in real life.
He's very handsome and cool. How can I hire him?
He never mentioned the making out thing to me. I've been trying to piece together exactly what happened. I'm kind of pissed at him.
Employees will kill you every time, Scola.
When does a wig become a hat?
I feel that if I had no lease stopping me, I would own eleventy hundred puppies.
A high school friend just uploaded some new pics to Facebook of her new tatoo. It's a 5-inch across red ribbon bow about 4 inches below her belly button. Huh.
I think it's fine for straight folks to spend time at gay bars unescorted, as long as they don't freak out over being asked to dance or offered a drink by someone of the same gender. Socializing is cool, going on safari to gawk at the exotic fauna and pat yourself on the back over how daring you are isn't.
