Beauty Bar1: my band is more obscure than your band; the irony of interaction, so deep like shit about the ankles. how lovely. how exotically intellectual. I'll sip your jack and coke as you go on about Reblais. y'know, if you leave those thick black frames on I'll be forced to rip the flower-striped button-down off your computer-tanned torso(he thought he heard her say as she handed him the beer.) hats like uniforms. leather around the wrist: I could chain you to the headboard. would you let escape, setting my hair by the bar, made small talk with the tender, and she summed up the contents---the sorority girls circle me, but my thighs don't understand why. 8 years ago, the cafeteria. wasn't that shirt at express2 last season? no your blonde isn't brassy.