Red pants, check. Leather jacket, check. Good company, check. Cool ambiance, check. All systems go for a good night...and boy did I have one! There's that sick, embarrassing, "let's pretend this night ever happened drunk" and then, on the far right side of the spectrum, there's the perfect amount of drunk. It's more like border line drunk. You know, the sort that releases your inhibitions but still keeps you very conscious of your actions. Saturday night was one of those 'perfect' nights. One of those nights where the band lets you borrow their equipment for the sake of your blog and a few good laughs. It was the red pants.
I lie. It was the company. It was the british accents. It was the endless shout outs. It was the proclaimed "party table." It was four people who are so comfortable with one another that they forget there's other people in the room - or in this case a bar. We genuinely didn't give a shit, and it was awesome. I'd like to argue that these kids stand a chance. Enjoy the cover and the extra tune: