The Suz and I have been noticing a fairly disturbing trend in the greater Boston area.

It started in that new Irish pub down the street.

And then we were over in the Back Bay the other day having lunch and we noticed it there as well.

These are not thug bars.* These are nice places that we are going to.

So can somebody explain to me why they're serving PBR on draft?
Did we not move 900 miles to get away from the land of red necks, white socks and Blue Ribbon beer? Was that not the plan?

So I didn't say anything when Suz brought home IsBoyfriend, who is a bubba, I don't care where he grew up.
And the Suz didn't say anything when I brought home Ex-NotBoyfriend #3, the guy who likes to fish.

But THIS. This is too much. I don't know what kind of twisted retro yuppie trend this is, but you people out there have to know that this must stop. It is one thing to bring back the fake wood paneling and green shag carpet low budget porno movie decorating scheme. I might even be able to understand the sleeveless t-shirt bit on a really really hot day-- like when it's 300 degrees outside. But PBR is the nadir of good taste. We didn't even drink it when we were broke and bored in college. There's always a better way.

I know the economy sucks right now.
You're still not that broke.


*thug bar-- n. A hole in the wall, or shack by the highway. Features only domestic beers and is decorated primarily with neon signs advertising said domestic beers. Chipped linoleum floors, peeling, probably lead-based paint in a dingy green and/or dark wood. Lights are dim. There's at least one pool table and maybe a pinball machine. Dart board is optional but recommended. Will have the best jukebox ON EARTH. If you see my dad there, tell him I said hi.