Bar Belle: Tagged and pissed
I really am starting to believe that Facebook will be the downfall of our society. We build walls for a reason. The first thing we did when we settled (read: stole) this land was throw up some barbed wire to create boundaries. My business is my business, and if I want to let you in on my business, you’ll have to sleep with me first — or at least buy me a beer. I think George Washington said something to that effect. But Facebook is erasing these lines and boundaries more and more each day. Personal space is now public domain for all 1,053 of your friends.
People do dumb things when they’re drunk. I do dumb things when I drink. Posing inappropriately for cameras used to be a minor offense; waking up with a stranger a major offense. While stranger-waking is still not a good thing, now you and the world get a detailed, blow-by-blow (if she’s into that sort of thing) account of your night each morning on Facebook through tagged photos. From shot No. 1 to puking on a cop car — it’s all there for your mom and Aunt Gertrude to see.
There are two sides to every issue, unless we’re talking about threesomes. One is to blame yourself. You saw the camera, you flashed it after drowning your better judgment with cheap whiskey. It’s your fault. Like Lindsay and Paris, you got out of the car like a linebacker knowing you weren’t wearing underwear. The other side is trust — trust that friends won’t post awful photos of you; trust that a friend would ask himself, “Would I want a photo of me grinding the Back Door bouncer on the Internet?” before posting and tagging. Remember: Memories fade but photos never will. Facebook airs reruns of “This Is Your Life” 24/7.
Thankfully there’s the “untag” option, and I’ve had to use it often. But the picture still remains for future bosses, grandkids and lovers to see. I think getting permission to tag is a good first step — long after better judgment has been employed. Not every photo you take needs to be uploaded. Less is more. If I’ve got more chins than a Chinese phonebook, please don’t fucking tag me. In fact, you should delete it immediately and erase all evidence from your mind.
Since judgment is subjective, here’s a list of things and situations that don’t need to be tagged.
• Lips and/or tongues near people who don’t know your middle name
• Exposure of body parts that garner a PG-13 rating
• Posing with cardboard cutouts, farm animals or D-List celebrities
• Acts and/or positions that push an R-rated movie to NC-17
• Smoking — both legal and illegal substances
• Drinking cheap beer (you’ve got a rep to protect)
• If you appear sweaty, balmy, red-faced, bleary-eyed and/or wearing a black shirt with brown shoes
• Bad Hair Day
• Fat Face Day
• Visible pit sweat
• Visible flat tire around your waist
• Noticeable double chins, pimples and/or chancres
KY Bourbon Festival
September is National Bourbon Heritage month, so it’s your civic duty, especially in this state, to show your appreciation of the spirit. I tend to celebrate National Bourbon Heritage all year long, but in my world it’s called “Friday night.” If you haven’t been to a good bourbon bar, then make it a point to stop by Proof, Social, Jockey Silks or Bourbon’s Bistro in the next few weeks to try a brand you’ve never had. My flavor of the month is Bulleit’s Rye Whiskey, a smooth, strong and sipable drink that makes me feel all warm, fuzzy and bullet-proof inside. (Yeah, I know it’s not bourbon, dicks. But it’s part of the Bulleit family.)
This weekend is the pinnacle of the Kentucky Bourbon Festival in Bardstown. I crashed the annual gala last year and still have to pinch myself about how many wet rims I put my lips on that evening. Time to fill your flasks and head south. Check out www.kybourbonfestival.com for details.
Drunk Texts of the Week
• Pub crawlz should be required
• R u ok? Had a bad dream about u last night. Dont eat cheese or something
• Did he say aint no or anal sex required???
• Uh … you mean the dating site e-hard-on-me? Hate it!