Decisions at the Bar
I’m at the Dallas Eagle for the 80’s dance party.
I divide my time between my phone, the strange scene on the dancefloor, and my $1 beer.
This bleary-eyed guy stumbles up to me and starts running his hands through my beard.
I’m at the Dallas Eagle for the 80’s dance party.
I divide my time between my phone, the strange scene on the dancefloor, and my $1 beer.
This bleary-eyed guy stumbles up to me and starts running his hands through my beard.
I realized (after my meetings) that the beard was giving me that homeless-not-so-chic look.
So…
Now I’m silky smooth.