After a delicious pizza dinner, we went to the bar. We got a table right by the window. And very near the fire pit. We had lovely European beers on tap. We saw the following things:
-a man on the street walked by wearing devil horns, a cape, and carring a live opossum. The opossum looked nervous.
-three men ran by the window wearing suits and laughing- looking like they were going to a Halloween party. Savages.
-at least three people tried to enter the bar, not reading the door, which contains the instructions "push." They tried very hard to pull. And couldn't enter. We coached them through it. Because we are nice.
-a guy walks into the bar- he was carring a guitar (electric) slung over his shoulder. It was ready for impulsive and immediate play. But he had no amp. None of us (nor the group at the fire pit) could figure him out. He went into the bathroom with his guitar- didn't close the door all the way, didn't turn on the light. He came out, with his guitar, and went to the bar and got a crappy bottle of Sessions Lager. It was hard not to huck an empty bottle at his head- I took his crappy beer fetish in an absolute temple of good beer as a personal affront. Then I sobered up a bit.
But we never figured out the guitar thing. Or the opossum.
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5 comments:
you are such a fucking libation higbrow queen.
it's beer, after all.
besides...the dood may have been broke.
good thing you didn't know me back when Olympia was the Cristal of my daily intake of juice. you'd a never read my shit.
Bastard Aristocrat!
(you do realize i'm busting your female bollix, yea?)
You're damned right I'm a fucking queen. I've paid my drunken dues, thank you. I've gotten hammered on Olde English, Country Club, Vodka/Hawaiian Punch, very cheap tequila, Schmidt, et al. And now that I'm old and fighting grey (with every chemical in my arsenal), I have decided to be a tad more selective.
Game, set and match, my friend. This female's bollix are perfectly at ease with being a snob when it comes to the liquors.
game, maybe, but not set and most definitely not match.
tennis is one long summabitch of a sport.
i'll get you next time.
it's my serve, by the way...
Like the Man Law Good Book sez:
"Don't fruit the beer."
Fruiting the beer doesn't apply to Belgian Ales. They are just a thing of nature.
And Possums are nasty. Closest I've gotten is roadkill. And that's some ugly critter.
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