I Drink Alone

Every time I never go to the local biker bar, there always seems to be *that guy* already there. I'm sure you know him. The one with the bad (read: awesome) Estrada-esque 'do, rocking either a Styx '86 tee or a nausea-inducing (read: awesome) glitter iron-on transfer that says "Cowboys Stay on Longer and Ride Harder" ringer tee. Now, I'm all for un-PC or derogatory humor, because if we can't laugh at ourselves, we've got problems. And if you can't laugh at yourself, I'll laugh at you.

"Mask" was on the tube not too long ago at roughly 3 in the morning (because who would watch Mask during prime time?) starring Cher-as-Harley-skank and her "I'm-pretty-on-the-inside-so-don't-judge-me" son Rocky and a full biker ensemble cast. Which of course means this is cinema at it's finest. I couldn't not watch it again, not because it's a heart-warming tale full of morals and lessons (wha?!), but because I found myself thinking "daaamn, Sam Elliot is a PIECE in this movie." And his name was Gar. Which was followed by that annoying thing called female guilt for loser-ishly thinking a dirtbag is porkable. It's possible Gar and I could bike away into the sunset, leading a perfectly lovely lower middle class life, rich with Skynard and Miller High Life. But then I would have to thrown down with Cher and I'm comfortable in saying she'd probably give me a good what-for, so no Gar, I cannot run away with you on your hog. I must set you free.

You may not have a Gar in your life, but you can own your own ridiculous (read: awesome) vintage tee, complete with rad-ly un-pc transfer that says "Every Cop Likes a Big Bust" from galaxyvintage.

Because mustache riders need love too.