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September 28, 2011

Bar Belle: Thanks, bitches

Like Justin Bieber, I, too, want to say thank you so much not only to God but to Jesus. Without them — and I’ll go ahead and throw in the Holy Spirit and Easter Bunny — I wouldn’t have this impeccable, resilient liver that makes this column possible. Thank you, LEO readers, for voting me Best Column in last week’s Readers’ Choice issue. This is the first time I’ve ever won! (I was secretly hoping to be named Best Dinner Roll, but I guess you can’t win them all. Damn you, Texas Roadhouse!)

I kinda felt guilty for campaigning, until I found out that there were a quarter of a million votes cast. I think three votes for myself and the votes from my two friends probably didn’t count for shit. I even noticed that when voting online for Best Column, someone voted for “Not Sara Havens — She is trashy and ridiculous.” Guess Mom finally figured out how to use the Internet.

There are definitely people, places and things I should recognize for this achievement. You see, I don’t win things often — not even when I’m playing Tic Tac Toe with myself. I’ll go into Zanzabar with a bag of quarters and never make it to the second round of “Joust.” Damn pterodactyl. I played putt-putt golf this weekend in Gatlinburg, and my ball ended up stuck inside the windmill. I had to get on my knees to poke it out with my rod, and that is what she said.

I’d like to thank the Academy for recognizing genius when they see it. I’d like to thank anyone who knows what movie that line comes from (and I will buy you a beer). I’d like to thank my college — Ohio University — for introducing me to frat parties, beer pong, keg stands, the value of free beer, the love of cheap beer, how to mask vodka, how to hide booze using body parts, body shots, beer bongs, et. al. I’d like to thank Louisville for its 4 a.m. closing time. I’d like to thank the bartenders and bouncers at The Back Door for being kind, even when my grasp of the English language is iffy.

I’d like to thank my friends for enduring drunk texts, voicemails, rants, karate chops and a mass vomiting of emotions on a regular basis. I’d like to thank my co-workers for leaving me alone in the mornings while my vital organs re-hydrate. I’d like to thank the person who makes another round of coffee if they finish the pot. I’d like to thank whoever brings in doughnuts, cookies or chocolate.

I’d like to thank Cracker Jacks for putting a prize inside every box. I’d like to thank the inventors of Magic Shell and the DVR. I’d like to thank whoever can tell me what happened to “One Tree Hill” this season. I’d like to thank Lady Gaga as well as “Lady” by Styx. I’d like to thank Zooey Deschanel. I’d like to thank whoever keeps “The Real World” going. I’d like to thank pain relievers and Red Bull. I’d like to thank anyone and everyone I’ve made out with in bathrooms. And finally, I’d like to thank you. Yes, you — you reading this right now. From the bottom of my liver, thanks for buying me drinks, picking me up off the floor, high-fiving and fist-pumping, not judging my dance moves and for making me feel welcome at every bar in the city — even across those godforsaken bridges. And without Michael Jackson, none of us would be here.

Heaven isn’t too far away
Earlier this month, I was invited by Four Roses to hitch a ride to the Bourbon Festival Gala in Bardstown, Ky. As soon as I sauntered in the place, I couldn’t get Belinda Carlisle out of my head: Ewwwwe baby do you know what that’s worth? Ewwwe heaven is place on Earth. My heaven will look a lot like the Gala — booths of bourbon everywhere, free glassware, but instead of the master distillers behind the counters, it’ll be Smurfs. And there’ll be no hangovers. And I’ll know how to dance in heels, because I will be a size 2. Actually, there are no sizes in heaven … you can eat what you want and still look like an Olsen twin, even though there are no Olsen twins in heaven, because there is no “Full House.” And in my heaven, I will have cupboard space for all these bourbon glasses. But until then … I guess my Christmas shopping is done.

Drunk Texts of the Week
• Ball on the deck
• I want 2 hump the comfy cow
• is l’ville big enough for 2 pedestrian only bridges?

Send your drunk texts to shavens@leoweekly.com. My blog is at barbelle.leoweekly.com. Word.