A few days ago, we waxed rhapsodic over the charms of bucolic college activities; we would like to make it clear that said charms don't survive the move from country to city. Pre-gaming shouldn't lose its prefix, nor entertain hopes of a post season. Last night we were subject to forty-hands, girl v. girl Beruit, classy incarnations of baby Brit feat. Joyce Leslie, (think black pleather belts worn over too-tight button-downs) and Fergalicious. Twice.
Moving the pongers from their half-cups of Bud Light to the couches of Rodeo's peanut-shelled back room took far too many eye-rolls and foot-taps. We disagree with Dion (from the movie Clueless)-avoiding flying balls will not ruin your social life. If it does, get thee to the 'burbs and out of the boroughs, or, failing that, the Bronx.
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