Gruene Hall, the Oldest Dance Hall in Texas.
1:32 p.m. || 2004-06-21
To understand the Friday night portion of this story you have to understand what makes me tick and how I am. I am loud and opinionated, but in a very friendly way. Most of you know someone like me. He's really loud in public places as a way of drawing attention to himself. Because of this you tend to shy away from him. But, at the same time, he's too damn funny to completely shun. It's very much like a car wreck in that you just can't look away regardless of how horrible it is. I say all the things that you want to, but your sense of decency won't allow you to. Don't get me wrong, I'm not horribly mean. I try not to pick on physical disformities, general retardedness, etc. But, if it's something you chose to do you are fair game. Stupid hats, retarded clothes, tattoos, piercings, your general klutziness or gangliness... These are the things I feast on. Because of this I love going to airports... and malls... AND BARS. That's where 98% of the freaks in the world hang out. The other 2% live in some netherworld and go to Star Wars conventions. I could never go to one of those places because my head would explode from the virtual plethora of one liners that would suddenly flood my teeny little brain.
Now, having said all of that, we went to Gruene Hall on Friday night. Reckless Kelly was playing, but that wasn't the reason I went. I went because I like to eat chicken fried steak, The Gristmill happens to serve one of the best ones ever, and Gruene Hall is the closest place to the Grist Mill where you can buy beer. I like beer. A lot. And I happen to be lazy, so close is good. Plus it's kinduva icon around here. Icon's are usually famous for a reason and Gruene is no different. It's like a melting pot for all the pretty people/freaks/tourists to ever hit central Texas. We quickly garnered most of the table space in the place and proceeded to play 42 (aka: the best game ever). But mostly we (see: I) proceeded to make fun of people. Loudly. And pointed at them. And took pictures. I'm really somewhat overt about this process because it seems to bring additional pleasure to onlookers to think that if they watch long enough that I might actually get my ass kicked. But somehow it never happens (I'm sure I just jinxed myself, so I'll post the hospital photos once I recover from my severe ass beating that will soon be administered by someone with no sense of humor). I've never really figured out why either, but it never does. It's just one of the beautiful things about being me. My friends are not immune to this either. One poorly thought out comment will stick with you for years. You may end up with a nickname like 'Monkey Bling' or 'Cunt Head.' You just never know (Side Note: Mother's do not like it when you call their child 'Cunt Head.' Not even when he is 25 years old.) They know it's all in good spirits though, and more importantly I take it as good as I give it. In fact, I relish taking it (and that is far from the homoerotic reference that it sounds like it is, I assure you). If you can't dish, you most likely cannot be my friend. You also cannot be my friend if you cannot laugh at my misfortune. That is Friend Rule #1 in the great Book of Sean.
I love my friends. As I get more time and technology I will post stupid pictures of them so that we can all make fun of them together.
Wanna know how to scare your ex? - 2005-03-12
Maybe I am not the sickest person out there. - 2005-02-23
I'm out of my funk and I'm not talking about hygiene. - 2005-02-11
Ding Dong the Sports Season is Dead. - 2005-02-07
Wow, is this thing still on? - 2005-01-31
1:32 p.m. || 2004-06-21
