You don't realize how difficult it is for me to type this now. My devotion to properly punctuated and accurately spelled sentences is my undoing now. My backspace button is dying a rapid, agonizing death. And who the fuck put the caps lock so goddamn close to the A? Fucking amateurs!
In comparison to the likes of the Great Nate or even his skinnier but no less capable compatriot whom I can only call Ian--or even that great ginger juggernaut known only as Joeltron--I have no tolerance whatsoever for the alcohol drink, but after several rather stiff whiskeys and perhaps a beer or two purchased by well-meaning friends of Kraut heritage, here I sit typing nonsense jibberish onto the internet. Why or wherefore I know not, but here and now I regret--despite the familial obligations and the evenings spent with wayward friends of days gone by--that I have failed miserably to enjoy the company of you crabclawing motherfuckers for the better part of the last week. It is no man's fault but my own--a mea culpa attributable to all known disasters save for the Hindenburg--but that does not lessen the present sentiment of a lost opportunity, of time and drink let slip, that engulfs what remains of my tattered half-breed soul. I shall be spending New Year's in the state Capital, which I am by no means sorry for, except that you sons o' bitches (ladies included) shall not be there. I am man of few laudable qualities, but goddammit when I give my word that I will be in a certain time at a certain place, I goddamn show up there. Most of the time. When I feel like it.
Which means, unless you are going to be in the greater Olympia area come 12/31, I shall not see neither head nor hide of any of you mangy lot, and despite what may at times seem to be an impenetrable veneer of apathy and hopelessness, this I am quietly sorry for. You lovely, misanthropic, hobo-hating, face-slapping, PBR-swilling pillars of society, you.
What's that more whiskey why sure I can do that sir, yes sir, yummy yummy.
Happy fucking new year in two days. I hope that sounds celebratory in your mind's eye.
etc. etc.
P.S. If you're not listening to Ghostface yet, get to fucking work already, huh?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
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Just curious, how was the New Year?
ReplyDeleteAs in eve's
ReplyDeleteUm, it went reasonably well. I was in Olympia with a few friends. We drank and hung out. So in a way, not too different than most nights I'm dragged kicking and screaming away from solitude.
ReplyDeleteDid you know Walgreens is open all night on New Year's Eve? Did you know they employ people who look like Quakers? I do.
How did the N.Y.E. show go?
It was one of the better new year's I have had. We played a good show and I got to stuff money down some ladies shirts. I wasn't stuck up in a goddamn vip room at the Buffalo like last year... even though that had it's highlights. Nate getting kicked out of the Temple bar and Vanessa showing off some drunkin interpretive dancing.
ReplyDeleteI wanna go to LAST year's New Years. Watching Nate and Vanessa be Nate and Vanessa drunk sounds awesome. We played soccer, and "Hold 'Em," as K-dub called it. Patrick, you didn't miss much. You certainly didn't miss out on Jon's Chardonnay-Pear-Bacon blend, which was literally the nastiest shit ever. Not good advertising for the winery, Jon, remember, you are a business man now. Happy New Year ... SHITHEAD-MOTHERFUCKERS, BROOKE WEBBER MUST DIE, THIS ISN"T REALLY ME, (vomit)
ReplyDeleteThat Nate, what an asshole.
ReplyDeleteyou just wait. Baco-Chard'll come around. if the Oligarchy wants us foggy on gin and tv, I'll drink greasy vino and drive my hovercraft to freedom.
ReplyDeleteAny man with a hovercraft can damn well drink what he likes. He is defying Gravity!
ReplyDeleteDefy this, you ignorant sluts!!! (as I fly off to the hills in the Great Flying Machine)
ReplyDelete