I am not the biggest fan of you. Your drinks are over priced. There’s always too many people in you. I don’t like people, I can’t even write letters to real people that’s how much I don’t like people. They stress me out. Therefore, bars stress me out. Too many people, too much money, I’m too poor and too crazy to go to bars. Not to mention I have to get dressed up, and look nice in order to get in you. Then creepy fuckers hit on me the whole time I’m there asking to buy me some kind of lemon mumbo jumbo bikini martini bullshit when all I want is a beer or wine, which is much better enjoyed in my sweat pants in front of the tv while playing my video games and scratching my belly. After a bit of drinking in you, all I want to do is get laid, and either way I’ll probably just go home and masturbate, but why wait? If I were at my own house I could just masturbate WHILE drinking instead of waiting inside your crowded smelly innards and ignoring weird men looking at under dressed women rubbing their drunk titties all over your dirty ass bar trying to get free drinks. Bars, you disgust me. I’ll stay at home with my sweat pants and bottle of five dollar wine. Thanks.
Drunkenly Yours,
Me
