day 23: the boozy explorer goes bar-hopping in waldo

First, an unfortunate side note: last week my one-and-a-half-year-old MacBook, undeniably the most expensive thing I own (I like to think of myself as "big trash day chic"), blew up.

All that crazy-talk on the screen at right is what I believe to be the equivalent of a very high-tech hangover, except instead of Advil, Gatorade and pasta noodles it's going to take hundreds of dollars to make it better. In conclusion, fuck.

* * * * *

When the boozy explorer (my Pogues-inspired drunken alter-ego) goes out in search of a good time, she expects the following:

1. Strong, cheap drinks.
2. Good music that isn't so loud it prevents conversation.
3. A laid-back atmosphere in which a girl can look charmingly disheveled (i.e., no douche- or ho-bags. How to tell if you're surrounded by 'bags: count the ratio of bleach-blonde to natural hair, and anything greater than 3:1 is probably a bad sign).

Considering my good-time criteria, on Friday night The Well was pretty much batting 0 for 3. The two-story bar next door to Waldo Pizza was so jam-packed with douchebags, if you had shaken it like a high-pressured soda can, it would have spewed toxic levels of Ed Hardy shirts and spray-tanner over several blocks. The music was too loud to hear anyone without yelling, and the bartender - a skinny 21-year-old in a short, black skirt - poured almost impossibly weak $6 drinks.

Needless to say, our next stop at Patrick's Bar and No Grill felt like a haven. As its namesake boasts, the bar's menu features microwave-only treats like popcorn, mini-corndogs, personal pizzas and White Castle sliders, and pictures of Chiefs players and famous people (including one of a smiling 20-year-old labeled "Sheryl Crow") adorn the walls. Bud Light bottles are served in silver buckets, the rum drinks are strong enough to make you forget whether you left the one or the five as a tip, and the staff is friendly (when we were about two buckets in, the bartender brought us a giant, homemade cookie to share).

There is also a Nintendo Wii, which provides some excellent people watching if you're into drunken shenanigans. And really, who isn't.

I was told these fellas were Wii kayaking, though I like to think they were just really into the World Cup:



And we weren't sure what girlfriend here was trying to accomplish by rocking this saddle, but in the end she was pretty damn pleased with herself:



And pleased with myself is the opposite of how I felt the next morning, especially since boozy treasures are not the lasting kind. Except for that time in Vegas when my boyfriend found a silver bracelet on the ground.