vicky, cristina, emma, kaitlyn barcelona??

before i dive into my most recent adventure, i need to get this off my chest. okay, bra's off. now where was i? HA HA. but, seriously. my pick for song of the day is "i remember" by yeasayer, and i'll tell you why. this lyric right here:

i remember making out on an airplane
still afraid of flyin', but with you i'd die today

all right, emo-emma. back in your box you go.

now onto the point of this post: my wednesday night.

my friend and i decided to hit the town and ended up at a hole-in-the-wall bar i'd never been to before. fun! i thought. a new scene! we walked in and the place was dead. i mean really, really dead. we were a tad sketched out, but decided to stick it out and see what we could make of it. luckily, the bartender was on coke, so he was extra-friendly and served us $2.75 drinks all night (yay for yay!). he also informed us that about an hour earlier, he had decided to host a local hip-hop show on his stage, so needless to say, we were pumped.

my friend needed a fag, so we ventured outdoors to sit on a bench and chit chat. a mysterious man was out there sort of lurking in the shadows, smoking a ciggy, so she decided to chat him up (because that's how she is). he had a thick accent, so we asked where he was from to which he replied, "madrid," but it sounded like "lakjf." he asked if he could join us and so he did...

this man was a legitimate spaniard. i mean, really strong accent, looks, swagger, everything. he had been in dallas since he was 18 because he wanted to go to school in the states. his dad went to harvard, but when he saw all the "incredibly attractive" women in dallas, he was sold. when he said this, he was staring at both of us in our eyes so intently, i started to become incredibly jittery. those men have a way of looking at you that makes you feel like, suddenly, you are sitting there completely naked without your consent. things were fine, but when he started talking about how anal he is about cleaning and making his bed every single morning and taking 3 showers a day, i couldn't help but think "killer." what?! you've seen those types of movies/shows, too. don't deny it.

anyway, we chatted with mr. madrid for a little while and decided to move inside to hear the music. the bartender was not kidding - local hip-hop show, yes. dangerously close to dallas version of "8 mile" even. the guys spitting were actually really good (i know, right? "spitting." i know what's up). i was taken aback by how good they sounded.

the moral of the story is, there is none. it was just a random night. we talked to a spaniard, listened to eminem wannabes show their stuff, smelled a lot of weed outside in the back, had 2 boys accost me about working for television and ask the stupidest questions known to man ("so, like, i guess it would make sense if a show was really popular, you'd probably charge more for it, right?") and then we left only to realize once we were in the car we hadn't paid for any of our drinks. not our fault - the bartender said not to worry and he'd just keep a running tab. that's what you get for being a coke-snorting, generous, happy bartender!

to adventures! and free drinks.

-emma out