Oh wait, it's a stupid indie concert at some "ironic" bar/cafe by the El 'ortez. Lame... Nothing more than some Dr. Martin wearing wallet chain eye-liner Arrah's ex-girlfriend crap. "Oh look at me, I'm a tragic personality like Amy Winehouse... or at best I'm a Gwen Stephani-esque poser chick." BORE!
Wait, what's this Beauty Bar Austin?
HELL YES! That's a fight club!* Check out the guns on Femullet there. She's definitely a regular. Poor chick on the left may have size, but she's ill equiped for this battle.
Let's take a look at the rundown. Fishnets? check. Jorts? check. Bemused latino in a position of authority? check.
This could be a lesbian pillow fight club! The spirit of Shooter '94 that used to live in my brain is now riling in pain on the floor from his head exploding. Reality can only disappoint, but I figure we have to try. A free battle of bepillowed lesbians in a bar with some Modest Mouse cover band sonically pooping in the background - that's as STBE a thing as I can think of. Hell, we might be able to field a team!
*Screw you hipster dork for uploading these pictures in sepiatone. The '50s were filled with terrible music and racism. Stop pretending like Grease is a moral compass and join the 21st century. It's cool here, we have iPods.
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