Here we are again. There's a large downtown block party where I live tonight, and I have been signed up by the kinda-sorta to cook for her friend's party-within-the-block party thingie. She bought me a case of Coors Light and a handle of Old Charter to persuade me. She's nice. Well, I guess playing with those things is one way to get over my fantasy draft hangover. But anyways, lets get after it.
I got invited to a passion party tonight by one of my gay friends whose wedding I was in. I told him there was no fucking way I was coming. He promised booze and hot chicks playing around with dildos. I told him he had an hour of my time. This better be all kinds of awesome with a limited amount of butt plugs.
This weekend will be comprised of getting shitty in Richmond bars to celebrate finishing my first week of pharmacy school. Unfortunately, since i'm in pharmacy school, the availability of cool people to go out with is limited. Whatever, at least Arsenal plays on ESPN3 tomorrow.
I think the only thing that will keep me from going apeshit on an entire Disco festival of hippies is nothing short of an entire 12 pack of Shipyard Summer Ale. Why did I agree to tag along on this event? Fucking disco? I'm throwing a surprise 25th anniversary party for my parents this weekend, which has the surprise still intact at this point and an 85 person guest list. Here's to parking on other people's vehicles on my neighbors lawn with kinda sorta permission. Oh, and fuck the disco.
You ain't never lied. I only state a limit as a threshold before I dry heave. One floating around, whatever. Two or three and then a bunch of gays describing use? Vomit. Vomit that I'm not cleaning up.
Go for the hairy Greek chick all you want... I'm picturing the wispy Nordic blonde nip. Nothing confusing about that, is there?
So NettData, when is the first annual TiB Member outing at your lake house? I'll bring brownies. And mace.
So as it turns out Taboo Absinthe is pretty damn good. And I am going to be blind in like an hour. I started too early
I need at least a years notice in advance so I can start my daily regimen of penis-pump exercises (for the inevitable "Ratio of Internet Schlong to Actual Size" competition).
So, I'm going to a Pub Golf night tonight. I have no idea what the hell this is but I'm told to dress up as if I were going golfing. You should see the outfit I've got going, seriously, if this shit doesn't blow someones mind then I'm just going to quit and bow out.
I've done a couple of these. Generally it's a pub crawl between a bunch of different bars, and each bar counts as a hole. There are a few ways to do it, but teh way we did, each hole has a different drink and par score assigned to it. Your score for the hole is the number of chugs it takes to finish your drink. 9 holes tends to get sloppy towards the end but it's manageable. I've only done 18 once (doubling up at a few bars) and that was a full-on pants-shitting disaster. Godspeed