Hi, you may not remember me but my name may or may not be Missy. Last night you jumped into my car and forced me to give you a ride to Mae’s where, judging by your condition, you had absolutely no business going. You did however feel bad for hijacking me, so you gave me twenty dollars which I spent on beignets and coffee and It was delicious.
p.s. At some point in the drive you told me about your blog and even convinced me that I should look at it and leave you a note.
To further clarify, I was at a Robert Earl Keen show, after going to an event sponsored by the local microbrewery that involved $1, 16oz, I.P.A.s that I drank about ten of, then went to the show and started drinking redbull-vodka, then, after the show, hitch/jacked a ride to a bar that serves well cocktails for $1, and somewhere in between I stopped remembering stuff.
Thank GOD I didn’t drive to the pub crawl initially.
Saturday was a tough one, even my patented hangover cure, which involves two ten minute walks, bacon, and as much Ice Tea as a man can possibly drink, did not make me feel any better. So, rather ingeniously I think, I came up with a plan to cure what ale-ed me (get it?). I would go to a place that's so loud, you're required to wear hearing protection. I called my buddy who has a gorgeous .357 magnum revolver and took my Browning Hi-Power to the local indoor pistol range. I can put 10 out of thirteen shots through the same hole with that Hi-Power, I love that gun. Afterwards we went to a nearby BBBQ (the extra B is for bbombdiggity) joint (you have to say BBQ JOINT I'm told, restaurant is unacceptable.)
Sunday I drank from noon until about 9pm. The Patriots are sooooo good, but you know who's better? Me, at fantasy football.
No comments:
Post a Comment