1. Chez Nous
2. The Eastside Cafe
3. Nau's Enfield Drug -- for breakfast
4. Dot's Place
5. The Taco Shack on Burnet Road -- for breakfast
6. Enchiladas y Mas.
7. McDonald's. Try not to blush when you ask them to "supersize it."
8. Sonic (it's a drive-in).
9. The Travis County Exposition Center, Rodeo Grounds, and Ice Hockey Rink.
10. Either of their places with a six pack and a bag of corn chips.
1. We're gonna party like it's 1999.
2. So, what are your plans for the millennium?
3. That's life in the Nineties.
4. Hellooooooo??? Welcome to the 20th century --
5. A2K's gonna be pretty cool, isn't it?
6. So, how's that Y2K bunker coming along?
7. Yes, I'd like to place an order. Could you overnight two cases of Spam and a generator, please?
8. I know this guy, he's (a computer programmer/NASA engineer/Bill Gates), and he's got his complex all ready for Y2K.
10. It's the end of civilization as we know it.
1. Fewer police officers and more drag queens.
2. Fewer -- errrrrr, white people.
3. Borrowed my neighbors' sound system, which is so much better than the one they used for Lyle Lovett.
4. Set up video monitors everywhere. It was so much more fun to watch on TV once we got home.
6. Somehow insured that the hotly anticipated reenacting of the governor's college party days actually happened.
7. Taken down that silly fence at Sixth & Congress.
8. Pooper scoopers for the mounted police (horses).
9. A better location for the distracting two rows of Porta Potties right in front of the Driskill Hotel.
10. Called my grandma. For that much scratch she could have thrown a better party.
5. Mystery Date
10. Chutes & Ladders
1. Barton Springs, for that whole body ice-pack effect.
2. Hair of the Rottweiler.
3. The pleasing thought that George Dub-yuh might be moving out of town this year.
4. A2K -- so mind numbingly boring that nothing could hurt.
5. Tanning in January!
6. Leather on after-Christmas clearance.
7. No more terrifying tales of champagne shortages.
8. The tags are still on your dress, and you don't sweat!
9. A massage from your new and very Y2K-compliant -- friend.
10. The idea that someone, somewhere, must feel much worse than you do.
1. Donate to small, needy country where sadly there aren't enough weapons for every man, woman, and child.
2. Open a youth hostel. Charge sweaty young German backpackers to experience American Y2K hysteria firsthand.
3. Make babies. Candlelight is so romantic.
4. Write memoirs: How I Was Sucked Into A2K Madness, and Why Kirk Watson Is Responsible.
5. Auction it off on eBay. Some dorks think that the millennium really begins next year.
6. Convince your sweetie that the world ended and that the two of you are the only ones left to repopulate it. (Don't let your sweetie out of the house.)
7. Rent bunker as apartment to students with low expectations.
8. Serenade your survival goods so they won't feel lonesome. Try: "99 bottles of water on the wall/99 bottles of water/Take one down, pass it around -- "
9. Find receipts.
10. Bunker sale!
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