Titty City

We can't go back to the Good Knight bar or inn or whatever it is anymore. Drinks+anti-anxiety meds+me=unfortunate social situations.Oh well.
Yesterday I was looking in the mirror trying to fix my hair when I realised that it had been three months since I'd gotten my highlights redone. I am like this-I won't notice things about my appearance until it's glaringly obvious and way overdue.
"Um, sweetie?" Jeff will say, pointing at my legs before we go out. I will look down, surprised by a feral growth of fur and realise that I need to shave. I am thinking about other things I guess.Undoubtedly this is going to benefit me as I age, sitting in my rocking chair in a bedazzled jean mini skirt and halter,unaware that I have accidentally gotten to be 75 years old.
When I realised that my hair was an awful mess, I panicked and called up Monica at Stella Blue-the salon that took over Pink's space on South Congress. She fit me in at the last minute and made my hair look decent again.I left feeling like a 1940's movie star. She even did my makeup-I think she felt sorry for me.
"That poor girl, she's out there judging other people's fashion for the newspaper and look at her," she might have been thinking. But once I left her salon, I was in great shape to go out in the world and judge to my hearts content.
Jeff and I went to the east side for our South by Southwest night out.We spent most of our time ordering fancy drinks at the eastside Showroom once I got us kicked out of the Good Knight. For about five minutes we stood in front of a stage in a dirt parking lot surrounded by kids in black listening to some "live music'.
"Yeah, this sucks. I'm cold." I told Jeff.
He glanced at his full beer."Can I just finish this?"
"No."
Our friend's Bobby and Jason chimed in, simultaneously proclaiming-"The(Insert band's name that I have never heard of here-)is about to play."
"I don't care." I said."Let's go."
So we did, they were good sports and followed Mrs. Buzzkill to another bar, a place where I could sit down and hear myself think my happy,drunken thoughts again. I am too old to stand in the cold, eardrums bursting, watching some jackass "rock" on a stage in a parking lot. People travel across the country for this experience. Enjoy yourselves! I will be inside, warm and content, listening to my wasted friends Bobby and Jason tell me about their business plan-Titty City-"a place where you can get fried shrimp served by topless women."
"We could have a drive thru," suggested Jason.
Bobby shook his head vigorously, upset."No, man, the city would never approve that!"
"What is the matter with drive thru shrimp?" asked Jason-outraged.
"It's the titties,man! You'll never get a permit for all those titties in a drive thru!" Bobby said, his expression indicating that Jason is clearly an idiot."Besides," continued Bobby "It should be called Tittyopolis. If you call it Tittyopolis I'm in for ten grand." He is deadly serious now.
Jason is unmoved. Titty City it will remain.
By next year's South by Southwest I will, hopefully, be driving through Titty City and enjoying some delicious fried shrimp-to go.Someone please remind me to get my highlights done by then.