For those of us lucky enough to have had some fun in the sun, getting back to this tundra and bullshit classes feels like a powerful slap in the face. Getting hammered on the beach for a week, stumbling back to your hotel and then rallying for a trip to the nightclubs burnt to a crisp has got everyone feeling rather spring-broke right about now. After spending money like it don’t mean nothing for a vodka sour with a sprinkle of vodka, it’s nice to be back to a place where your only inconvenience to getting drunk is how quickly you can pass your cup up to the bar. We’re an ungrateful lot of fuckers who don’t don’t deserve this goodness of UConn bars, and here’s why.
Our beautiful little shithole has beautiful little prices. You can’t say that when you’re all dressed up in South Beach, after spending so much on a low-class economy ticket and shitty motel, that it doesn’t hurt your soul to drop $15 for a shot glass full of bottom shelf liquor. We know we’re not speaking for ourselves when we say that nothing beats the blessing of 4 drinks for $1. Even when it’s not Nickel, paying $5 for a vodka sour seems like nothing when compared with what Miami feels entitled to charge.
Then there’s actually getting to these places. We’re blessed with turn up spots a short walk away, even though the weather doesn’t always agree with walking. But even then, to spend $2 on a sober ride is nothing compared to the cost of getting somewhere in a big city. With all of these surges, you’re better off drinking at home. Even on the off chance that all of the sober rides are busy when you need them, an uber here will still leave you with more than enough for cover and drinks.
Youths on the Dance Floor:
We also definitely undermine the importance of fucking it up on the dance floor without being leered at by the sad and lonesome 40-55 year old Florida townies. Honestly, these geezers have some real nerve talking smack about our generation when they’re the ones fucked up at the bars dishing out dough, acquired through years of a dead end career and rebuilt post-divorce, to buy some scantily dressed college girls rounds of shots.
Like that’s kinda cool, cause a bitch doesn’t wanna have to pay those absurd prices. It just becomes a problem when these sugar daddies want to come around and collect the sugar. Sure, college aged guys at the bar tend to leer too, but their age difference definitely makes it less vomit-inducing.
Listen Huskies, we need to cut the shit and stop hating on the little shitholes we get to call home on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. Everyone’s gotta start from the bottom and this is ours. UConn bars are better than real bars. Case closed, bring in the dancing lobsters.
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