As certified wifey material, Jenny's boozing ain't never been on trial. So you'd be wise to listen to the wisdom she hands out in her recent piece for GQ, "The Faces of Happy Hour". She expertly identifies the various components of any bar scene at happy hour, including the creepers, the boyfriend-hungry girls doing it all wrong, people living with the wrong choices they've made in life, and that classic trap many a guy falls into between the hours of 5 and 7 pm:
Cougar DenGood luck out there, ladies and gentlemen. You can find me among the exclusive, final group that she mentions. Salud.
Watch out for this pack of horny divorcees, because they are on the prowl. They can be found wearing rhinestone belts and carrying rhinestone purses, and have rhinestones bedazzled on their jeans. Their French manicures are always wrapped firmly around a Bud Light Lime and a Virginia Slim. Their freckled cleavage is often showcased in a black, bedazzled body suit, topped off with an oversized, sterling silver necklace from Brighton jewelry. They spend their few sober minutes discussing their kids and ex-husbands, and then the booze kicks in. Once the first line of an AC/DC song begins to play, the dancing begins. They will ease off of their bar stools and whip their hair around. Creepy Middle-Aged Guy in a Blazer is aroused, but hides his erection under the safety of his houndstooth sport coat. Inevitably they rub their hands through their crunchy hair, channeling their inner Tawny Kitaen. It's a classic ritual of the happy-hour cougars.
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