Right now, I’m sitting at Black Sheep, drinking a surprisingly decent three-dollar glass of wine while five other two-person groups/couples (still trying to figure out if the two girls sitting across the bar are lesbians) talk quietly, and/or watch sports going on somewhere behind me.  My friend is sitting next to me, behind

I know you’re probably having your third serving of ramen this week and laughing at the title of this article because your broke-ass and “museum membership” don’t belong in the same goddamn sentence.  I thought the same thing.  My friend was like, “oh, I’m a member” and I wanted to slap