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"I don't see color;
I'm a social scientist." True words spoken by a pretentious little
prick sitting next to us at this lame excuse for a lounge. The sociology
101 banter continued with its awkward homo-erotic blatancy in squeaky
falsetto voices that made my nards feel sorry for themselves. Now
Mr. Hipster is not a man prone to violence, but the whole scene made
me want to take my heavy-bottomed bar glass and beat all three of
these NYU yucks to death with it. I think the terrible modern funk
coming through the speakers, and the horrible architectural choices
(the place felt like a school public space in which you can draw an
accordioned curtain out of the wall and turn the space into two rooms)
had something to do with my mood. I don't even know in what section
of the music store you'd find this crap--wedding band muzak, perhaps?
The only interesting thing in the whole joint was the battery operated
candle that fooled me into thinking it was real for like two seconds.
I thought about pocketing it as retribution for making me pay eight
dollars for a drink I had to slam down my throat in order to tolerate
my surroundings. I really couldn't get out of this place fast enough,
but I did stick around for an extra minute or two to make sure-for
certain-that those idiots, and this bar, were indeed the most annoying
of their kind on the planet earth. [MF]
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