Well, shit. This is one of my favorite (of a particular brand of) country songs. If it comes on, it stays on. If it comes on at the bar, I get to making an ass of myself.
Wanted to share, so here it is. But Jesus, what a cheesy fucking video. Almost entirely negates the radness of the song. That's how it goes- couldn't find a version on the youtubers with just a decent screen shot. Which I would have infinitely preferred.
Anyway, drinkin' and cheatin' songs are a monumental part of what makes (legitimate) country music so great. And this one is pretty high up there. Weak video. Great, great song.
Brian and I were at my (and his, I believe) favorite bar last week. On a Thursday. I must have said it fifty fucking times. To him, to others: This is a really good night.
We got two seats at the bar, dead in the middle. Almost my favorite seats. The way Houston's growing, and as good as this bar does, that just doesn't happen much for us. We got to look at everyone who came in and out- I like people-watching. We got to chat with the bartenders- I like that too. We put umbrellas in our beers. We took the umbrellas out of our beers. Picked up some matches. Talked about all the whiskey we'll never get to try. We got two beers a piece for free, from a Lonestar Rep. As did almost everyone else.
We got our egos stroked, we stroked some egos. We got to hear some Buck Owens. I came up on some gossip that I do believe I have almost fully spread. I got a number I fully intend to never use.
It's not about having nowhere else to be. It's not about becoming a drunk. It's about getting out, and being with friends. It's about creature comforts, which for me are a few beers, some decent music, and a change of scenery. Maybe some pool. It's about meeting new people. Which fucking happens- you can only puss out so many times in a row before you finally chat her up. And when it's done, you're flying for a little bit. Very little beats a night at the bar when shit works out.
