by Jack Straw » Thu Feb 26, 2004 9:57 pm
WARNING: DRUNKEN STRAW POST
(Pin: I've got a link to a GREAT DXM extraction from cough syrup if you want it. Almost as fun as fungus!! OK, not really.)
Well, I have also taken a small break from drinking also. A break, although not of my own accord. Work, school, kid, car, bullshit I deal with daily has been stacking up not allowing me to pay proper attention to the nectar of the gods. Although today, in the midst of a school function, the beer god has spoken and renewed his vows to me.
It started out innocently enough. I walked into Geva Theatre about 10 minutes fashionably late. I was informed that "Death of a Salesman" had already started and I would need to wait for the first break in the action. Luckily, my ""college" professor" (MCC) was also late so I got to shoot the shit with my fine Latina honey of a "professor" hobag.
30 minutes later, a snoring girl next to me and a fired up Game Boy Advance(c) with Metroid Zero Mission(c) (legally backed up), the lights came on and cultured fucks were clapping.
And then, the discovery.
Rohrbach's. On tap. $3.00.
The bartender(do you call em bartenders when they're in the cafe of a nice theater?) wasn't paying me much mind in my Adidas (alldyIdreamaboutsex)hoodie so when I finally got her attention I ordered 2. When I was finished with (slamming) them the intermission was not over. So I ordered another pair. When those were done and the masses still had not filed back into the theater I decided to slow down and order just one of my hoppy lovely friend. Halfway through it the "bell" rung to signify that the second act was beginning. I ran up in that bitch all hyped up like it was the last period of a Detroit game and I was about to throw an octopus. The bouncer-er I mean usher-said that I couldn't bring the drink in. No matter, I slammed it and handed the empty cup to the old man. This looked like a replay from JCSS Strip Club fallacy `03. Except replace some lazy big-titty shot girl with an old feeble Geva usher.
Fast forward to Straw nearly emptying his wallet after the play listening to mediocre live guitar music and grabbing a 40 of OE on the way home.
And almost finish it typing this message.
Signed,
Jack Straw
(This is aa.org right? oh shit
WARNING: DRUNKEN STRAW POST
(Pin: I've got a link to a GREAT DXM extraction from cough syrup if you want it. Almost as fun as fungus!! OK, not really.)
Well, I have also taken a small break from drinking also. A break, although not of my own accord. Work, school, kid, car, bullshit I deal with daily has been stacking up not allowing me to pay proper attention to the nectar of the gods. Although today, in the midst of a school function, the beer god has spoken and renewed his vows to me.
It started out innocently enough. I walked into Geva Theatre about 10 minutes fashionably late. I was informed that "Death of a Salesman" had already started and I would need to wait for the first break in the action. Luckily, my ""college" professor" (MCC) was also late so I got to shoot the shit with my fine Latina honey of a "professor" hobag.
30 minutes later, a snoring girl next to me and a fired up Game Boy Advance(c) with Metroid Zero Mission(c) (legally backed up), the lights came on and cultured fucks were clapping.
And then, the discovery.
Rohrbach's. On tap. $3.00.
The bartender(do you call em bartenders when they're in the cafe of a nice theater?) wasn't paying me much mind in my Adidas (alldyIdreamaboutsex)hoodie so when I finally got her attention I ordered 2. When I was finished with [size=59](slamming)[/size] them the intermission was not over. So I ordered another pair. When those were done and the masses still had not filed back into the theater I decided to slow down and order just one of my hoppy lovely friend. Halfway through it the "bell" rung to signify that the second act was beginning. I ran up in that bitch all hyped up like it was the last period of a Detroit game and I was about to throw an octopus. The bouncer-er I mean usher-said that I couldn't bring the drink in. No matter, I slammed it and handed the empty cup to the old man. This looked like a replay from JCSS Strip Club fallacy `03. Except replace some lazy big-titty shot girl with an old feeble Geva usher.
Fast forward to Straw nearly emptying his wallet after the play listening to mediocre live guitar music and grabbing a 40 of OE on the way home.
And almost finish it typing this message.
Signed,
Jack Straw
(This is aa.org right? oh shit