All my friends are cooler than me

It's true.

Almost everyone I roll with is either in a band, teaches young children, or is an amazing artist/dancer/fashionista of some sort. I can't even stick with a blog for Christ's sake!!

But, I'm here now, so I might as well tell you what went down last night.

So, K and I and a gang of others are headed out to this bar crawl I'm covering for Rare. The amazingly talented Cory Ryan is in tow, snapping pics, setting up her tripod, and in general creating beautifulness out of our drunkeness. My fave stop of the night? By far Rio Rita on E. 6th: to-die-for vintage furniture, pretty colored walls, yummy cocktails and edibles...it was like a little island of hip. I told the owner Randall I want him to come decorate my house. It's probably a little more estrogen-influenced that R can handle - but oh so pretty!

Our last stop was G&S Lounge, and by this point, Cory and I are thrilled to just be finished with this assignment. Which, if you've never done a 7-stop bar crawl before, is akin to eating your favorite, gooiest, ooziest dessert. Fun at first, but diminishing returns, you know what I mean? A gal can only take so many apple-tinis / signature shots / Austin's-best-margarita blah blah blah. But it would have been worth it if G&S was a chill place to be, with a good vibe and fun crowd. And as it turned out, it was all of those things.

Except the owner is a total d**k.

Not to mince words or anything. But as soon as K and I plopped down, it was attitude right and left from this guy! I introduced myself, told him thanks for letting us come in and do our thang - take pictures, take notes, etc. - and out of nowhere, he starts barking commands at us. Telling us where to sit. Asking why I'm not more drunk. Not in a fun, happy "hey babe, you don't look drunk enough yet! Wink!" way, but more like: "You're not drunk. You must not be doing your job. Screw your story." Glare.

Yikes!

If there's one thing K can do really well - and I mean expertly well - it's pulling out her Jersey when the time is right. So she asks this guy where he's from. "Austin," he says. "But you're an asshole?" She says, in genuine inquiry. He laughs and says, "I like you!"

From then on out, this guy is like our BFF. Especially to K. But at the very least he stopped yelling at me (which, for our relationship, was excellent progress). Somehow we start talking about pets. You know what he did? Pulls his dead dogs' keepsake boxes off a shelf, and shows us their pictures! And old collars! And...ashes. Yes! Ashes!

It's amazing what happens when naturally defensive, and I presume lonely, people let down their guard a little. Ol' Asshole Owner guy is actually kinda nice. His mom died (in addition to his dogs). He is divorced (it lasted 10 months). He works every single day. No wonder he's a little abrasive at first: where do you go chill out when you work in a bar every single day? This guy never gets a break!

One parting thought before I wrap up my visit to G&S, and K's heroic salvaging of the situation. Remember Big? Young Tom Hanks? And Zoltar? They totally have Zoltar at G&S!!