I wish to barf on my shoes.

Gail and I had a couple few drinks at Steuben's while we waited for Michael to walk Baily. I dig that place! Its so L.A. chic inside (and out I guess.) The food is simple and pleasent. It's kinda ala carte. I just adore adore adore the style of the place. OK, so I would have been more than fine just sitting there throwing back greyhounds, but Gail’s best friend, Tina, called and beckoned us to Elway’s. Tina was one of the first people I met when I transferred to Denver. She is one of the very few Denver folk that saw me at 300+ pounds. Tina quit the airline, so I never get to see her. I adore her.

I can't say I wasn't warned. They all told me how Elway’s is the old people pick up joint and I guess the scene is red hot on Thursday nights. OH MY GOD! What an understatement that was. Ok, so the bar was packed with Denver's "sub elite." I always get a laugh when someone tells me "so in so" is part of "Denver elite." Isn't Denver elite kind of oxymoronish. It's DENVER, PEOPLE. Ok, back to Elway’s. So, I walked in with two very attractive women. I looked around and noticed that there was a whole bunch of old men checking them out... creepy! The scene was so fucking fake. It just wasn't me. I kind of want to take Julie there so we can sit around and have a good laugh but, the place actually made me feel ill. I wanted to barf on my shoes or something.

P.S. On the way in I noticed that two of the cars parked in valet had "W" (the president) bumper stickers. I think that’s when the sickening feeling started.