Curious about the vibrant nightlife of historic downtown Boulder? Looking for advice on which of the city's many terrific establishments best aligns with your preference?
Well, take it down the road, because I got my own shit to sort through.
I swear to God, I've probably lost a week of my life dealing with leeches looking for recommendations, who've got no concept of respect — or personal space.
Of course, I don't blame you guys. When people ask me about my favorite bars, it's usually because they understand, whether through direct observation or legend, that I'm someone who is not only extremely knowledgeable about nightlife, but also well-liked and respected across diverse circles of the community.
And let's be very clear: I've put in the work to earn that reputation.
Every single day of the week, I'm going out, often in an expensive suit and sometimes high heels, my mere visage pumping a sort of ineffable sparkle into the spot, and inspiring bartenders and prominent local sportsmen alike to approach me for daps with free shots.
So, it stands to reason that thousands of students and Boulder residents want to consider my perspective as they attempt to make informed decisions before evenings out in Boulder - and about life in general.
People are always going to try to replicate greatness, and I get that. But it's like Ciara says: "I love you and all of the things that you do. Oh baby please; I need you (I need you)."
The subtext of that lyric being that, even though certain people, myself included, are so socially adept that their every public move seems as natural as a Serena Williams putt — few know this, but she's a phenomenal golfer — you don't need my advice at all, because you don't need to try to craft an itinerary to suit anyone other than the self.
Now ask yourself: What am I?
Someone down for a crowded bar that has a line to get in, but seems pretty worth it considering you texted your friend who is inside, telling you that it's a fun time?
A delicious oyster with no capacity for sentient thought, sitting lifeless on a dinner plate inside a Boulder seafood restaurant?
The kind of cat whose ideal involves $12 cocktails from a dimly lit sippery with string music playing soft and sweet in the background?
Obviously, I can't tell you what you are, and thus also can't tell you what bar to pick. It's none of my concern, and frankly I don't really care where you go from here. I mean, I like you and all, and you've been nothing but cordial — even kind of charming at times — but, like I said earlier, I've got my own life to lead, and I definitely don't need the added stress of advising you on nightlife, when I've got seven goats tied up in my basement that I haven't yet decided whether to kill or continue interrogating in hopes that one of them tells me where the key is hidden.
Wait. Ignore that last part, about the goats.
Now, please kindly move along so that I can turn my attention back to what I'm gonna do with these goats in my basement.
Damn it. Sorry. Please just forget about all that goat stuff. I really wasn't planning on bringing them up here.
What's that? You're gonna snitch about the goats if I don't list for you my top 10 bars in Boulder?
Ha! Good luck with that. Like the cops are gonna believe your word over mine.
OK, listen. Here's $1,000. Now get the hell out of my office. And remember: You were never here.