Country Rose

Only in Nebraska do they have bars that still offer house drinks (drinks made from cheap liquor) for $.25 after a $5.00 cover charge. Now, you might say, ‘hey, you still had to pay $5.00!’, but think about it, after spending $7.00, you’ve had 8 drinks, the last 3 of which were probably a bad idea. Can you do that anywhere else? (Not the bad idea 3. Trust me, you can do THAT anywhere.)

So, while we’re at this country bar, which has a live band playing (thankfully. The band wasn’t good, but it wasn’t incredibly horrible and it played more than just country music, thus saving me from having to drink those last 3 drinks first and numb my brain, which I did anyway…) and drinks are $.25.

It’s a Nebraska bar, so I’m not expecting much in the way of men, mostly the tall, dumb, possibly burly type, (you know, redneck cowboys…not the gay brokeback mountain kind). As I look around, to my surprise, I see a few more ‘college’ looking types and a few ‘biker’ types, one of which catches my eye right away. He’s not tall, but he’s got shoulder length, brown hair, a nice set of shoulders enhanced by a black tank top and that melancholy aura punctuated by a bright smile that I can’t seem to resist. He was hot! (Whoda thunk it in Nebraski?) I can’t help but keep glancing his way all night.

Now, there’s also this old (ok, not THAT old, but definitely older than I like) cowboy, who’s name is… (I bet you can’t guess…) Dusty, who keeps hitting on me. So, after the umteenth stop by the table, I politely two-step with him once (I’m diabolically polite), stepping on his toes more than a few times to keep him from asking me again (and a little passive-agressive). Does he buy me a $.25 drink or even offer? No. He just keeps hovering around. But I don’t invite him to sit (ok, so maybe not quite so diabolically polite, but close) hoping that he’ll take the hint and go away.

Finally, the guy I did think was good looking comes over with a friend and asks if Bridget and I would like some company. They DO buy us cheap ass drinks (hey, it’s the principle) and we have a grand old time. The old cowboy doesn’t take the not-so-subtle hint of inviting other men to the table and still keeps hovering, until I finally tell him that I won’t be going home with him, I much prefer my current company…who I did take home (or at least to my sister’s house) where we continued the party with much fun and general mayhem.

I think all bars should support $.25 drink nights. And if you’re a guy at a bar that supports $.25 drinks, buy any woman you’re interested in a drink or two (or twelve). It might just pave the way.

Celebrate Your Freedom!

As usual, I spent the 4th of July in Nebraska, because they still know how to celebrate it with style! There’s nothing quite like being able to blow things up in the name of tea tax.

I got to spend time with my family, whom I miss until I spend several days with them, then, not so much (I’m kidding. I love spending time with them and it always seems to go too fast.)

Bridget & her famous shirt My famous shirt Holding Connor’s ears Lighting Fireworks

The fireworks were amazing, we got fabulous seats that made the explosions look like you could almost touch them. Then, we went back to Kevin’s house and set off our own display that pulled the neighbors from their houses (which is usual for us). Here are a few images from my camera.

firework1.jpg firework2.jpg Firework 3

…our colors don’t run, they explode!

Oh, and just in case you forgot just how redneck my home state can be (as if the fireworks aren’t enough)…

We Got Booze