Friday night -B&T Irish Pub

by agoodnow

Remember to pump fake down the field.

Remember to pump fake down the field.

Remember to pump fake down the field.

Ok, now that I am done reminding myself to look off the safeties during my game today, let’s review last night.

I went to McFadden’s a bar in midtown.  It is a bar that has sold its soul as an Irish Pub and is now trying to attract the Bridge and Tunnel crowd. First it started targeting 20 somethings who work in midtown with $20 open bars and then they slowly moved to having guest appearances by the cast of “Jersey Shore”.  The bar should be stripped of its right to be called a Pub.

Fist pumping seems to be a little less prominent than it was 6 months ago. 

Is that how I looked when I was drunk?  I sure hope not.

Some guy was arguing with the bouncer (6’4, 335, most likely played offensive line at a DII school)as I was walking to the door.  The bouncer, “This guy…he was acting all crazy.  He isn’t right.  Had to go.”  I gave the guy my ID, nodded in agreement, and avoided any conflicts.

If you are dancing on the bar prior to midnight…..come on.

The 60 year old creepy guy who was standing in the corner drinking his Budweiser.  Not sure where I fall on that one.  Let’s be honest, not the worst idea.  He gets to enjoy a beer, stay to himself, and check out a bunch of slutty girls doing their best Snookie impression.  Is it creepy?  Yes, but at the same time….saves him the $200 he would spend at the strip club.  

They should have to change the name of the bar from McFadden’s to Fadden’s.  It does not deserve to be a “Mc”.

Some guy was trying to dance with a group of girls I was with.  (I thought nothing of it.  I was watching the Pitt v. West Virginia game go into triple OT)  They shun him because he is drunk and dumb.   So he stands in front of me and tries to get me to dance.  I just say no and keep watching the TV. (it really was a great game)  He then taps my chest.  (WARNING: Do not fucking touch me.  I am sober.  I am not dancing.  I do not want men purposely touching me in an attempt to dance)  So I tell him not to “fucking touch me again”.   So he does it again.  (Drunk Andrew:  Really motherfucker???  There is no doubt in my mind that I would have pushed him down, let him get up and hit him.  Not one doubt.  I was that mad.)   I move away, completely ignore him, watch my game and he walks away.   It was that easy. No shoving, no hitting, no getting removed from the bar by enormous bouncers, and I got to watch the end of the game.   

I walked home from the bar.

My ears stopped ringing after 4 hours.

I got late night pizza. Buffalo Chicken.  The guys at the Pizza place asked where I had been.  I didn’t want to say, “weel, I haven’t been drunk so I haven’t been eating your pizza”  So I avoided the question.  ( It was beyond delicious)

Going to my 3 year old sister’s Tea Party this afternoon in Connecticut.  Who is excited for some Earl Grey????  This guy right here!!!!

(For those who do not know, I have a 3 year old sister named Alivia.  We are a full 25 years apart in age. )

Off to play some football.