Self-Induced Vomiting, Lighter Fluid and Ninja’s:
Thought for the day:
Criticism comes easier than craftsmanship.
Zeuxis Greek painter (~400 BC)
Its been a odd week. Odd indeed.
On Wednesday last, I happened to stop by the bar for a quick drink and a double order of mashed potatoes (and in case your asking, its mashed not whipped, whipped sounds to kinky for something to eat), this was done for several reasons. One, I hate making mashed potatoes, and second my sweet and kind wife loves them. As a result, I sub contract out the work and everyone is happy. Another reason was that my flower was working late and I tend to prefer the company of the barflies to that of the hounds.
I was on my second beer and shot (I was self medicating, I am after all a disabled veteran and my knee hurt, but then again I really don’t need excuses) when “M. Chamberlain Newspaper Man” happened through the door. At once he began regaling me with his exploits over the weekend. As you the avid reader know I last crossed tracks with him at the Rugby Bar on Sunday.
It seems that his Monday took an unexpected turn when he found himself engaged in hand to hand combat with a group of rednecks jacked up on Redbull and Jack Daniels. It seems M. Chamberlain briefly suffered from the illusion that he was a member of the UN peace keepers and tried to break up some fisticuffs. However, he found his patience being tested and had to resort to his Ninja Skills to subdue the Evil-Doers, the moral of the story is that in the great state of Indiana, you don’t mess with the press.
It was about this time my loving bride called and said that she would rather join my at the bar than have me cook a meal. Which she in fact did, however she had neglected to inform me that she was bringing her replacement w/spouse along.
Replacement you ask? Yes, replacement. She is no longer the rock diva, she changed formats and is now the Today’s Pop, Country, Talk-Radio, Girl….she had also asked “The Big-Mick” to join us. Our merry band was thus fortified. And the drinking began in earnest, with thoughts of a steak dinner & mashed potatoes slipping away like sand thorough the hour glass.
The new girls husband it turns out played a primitive game much like rugby but using human heads instead of a ball (hey, they are from Evansville and you know how people are down there). So, we engaged in the male dog ass sniffing behavior that makes rugby as much of a sport off the field as on it. Stories were told, shots downed and cigars smoked…the knee pain was a distant memory.
We folded our tents at about 12:00, yes 12:00 on a school night even. After dropping 120.00 bones, which my loving wife told me was my lunch money for the next week or so…she’s a redhead sometimes its best not to argue, who am I kidding, its always best not to ague with her.
The last time we got into a fight, she said something to the effect of “worry not dear husband, I am not mad at you, I know having discussions like this can be stressful for you, why don’t you go into our bedroom and recline upon our marital bed and rest your eyes, I have to run to the store soon to return.”
...and when she returned she had a can of lighter fluid and a box of Ohio Blue Tip matches. Folks a few things here, one was at that time we didn’t have a grill, two it was winter, and three she put them on the nightstand. Yes, it’s often best not to piss the lady off.
But I digress, wit returned home to a late supper of macaroni and cheese (her favorite drunk food) and off to bed we went. I say bed, but passing out would be a more appropriate term.
Which takes me to No-Love Thursday, since I was looking a feeling my best I isolated myself from my co-workers by saying that I had been exposed to TB and until the tests came back it was best to only have contact with me via e-mail. This was met with very limited success. Hell, I think I am still hung over.
In the afternoon, in a effort to add insult to injury, I was ticked by a member of local law informant in a high crime area for driving with out a seat-belt (I was in my flowers vehicle) fate can be a cruel bitch. At around quitting time here at the Salt Mines, I was called by Pastor Bob, e-mailed by M. Chamberlain and the Sky-Captain, all wishing my presence if only as a ceremonial function. Bowing to a sense of duty and peer pressure I went.
You know the old adage “hair of the dog that bit you”? Well, dear reader, after my exploits Wednesday, I found that bit of folk wisdom not be true, it’s now filed away with those other common wife’s tails like “Protestants all have tails”, “white people smell like wet chickens” and “all republicans are rich”, nope some of them are stupid too. Needless to say, even the Champagne of Beers wasn’t hitting the spot, that and I am still looking for the cat that shit in my mouth sometime druing the night.
However, I was glad that I found the intestinal fortitude to venture out; it was after all Flavia-Puff's first meeting as leader of the No-Love-Thursday Mutual Aid Society and Drinking Club. The first point of order was raised by Pastor Bob, challenging her legitimacy as leader or our refined social club. However, I informed him that certain matters of club business must, by there very nature, be conducted outside of Thursdays, and since we had a quorum on Sunday and a vote held she was it.
Much like that definitive movie “Starship Troopers”, “Flavia-Puff” has the job until she’s dead or we find somebody better. The other line I like from that Oscar Award winning block buster, was “Service equals citizenship”, more on that some other time.
Dear reader, I JQP left after, having only two beers. I retuned home to the manor and fixed myself a big bowl of gazpacho (that and kimchi are good for what ails you). Since my loving and kind wife had to be up and at work by 4, we went to bed at 7:00.
On Today and the Weekend:
Since my wife had a charitable event this morning for the Refuges or Displaced Americans which ever you chose. I found that, I also had a charitable event this morning, my strong Irish back was put to work however, my weak Texan knee wasn’t up to the task, so I have been forced to bum pain killer from co-workers, which sadly was limited to Midol, however I am feeling less bloated. Today, I am tying up some lose ends and cutting out of work half day. Tonight, movies and a good book are in order.
Saturday I am teaching from 8 till noon, but as always I think the class will get out early. It is after all a game day.
My loving wife has a party she wants us to attend Saturday night with people from her work, which should be interesting.
Sunday however could be about as much fun as getting your teeth drilled. I was informed by my bride that she has a country music festival to attend in the great city of South Bend all day. Yes, me and country music, my reply was “Really, what county?”, because you the reader knows how my heart melts at the sound of a gypsy violin.
Sadly its not bluegrass (which I enjoy) or Willie, it looks like I will have to suck one up for the team. So, I will be redneck’en and NASCAR’en with a bunch of people who voted for Bush.
On the plus side, I might get to stop by and visit with a fellow blog author.
( http://catholicpackerfan.blogspot.com/ ) who is where I go for all my sports needs.
Your Drinks for the Weekend:
Kilted Leprechaun with a Tan:
Drink Ingredients:
1 Part Drambuie
1 Part Bailey's Irish Cream
1 Part Malibu Coconut Rum
1 Part 151 Rum
Instruction:
Layer ingredients in the glass, in the following order: Baileys first, Malibu next, Drambuie last. Serve with a smile (to placate the Leprechauns), wearing no underwear, and thinking of sex acts illegal in 27 states).
The Country Club Fart:
Drink Ingredients:
1/2 oz. Stoli Vodka
3 oz. cheap Champagne
Lime Wedge
1/2 oz. Bacardi Light Rum
1/2 oz. Jose Cuervo Tequila
1/2 oz. Dry Gin
Cranberry juice
Instruction:
build over ice in order
Your Bill for the Day:
The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords, in such a just and charitable war.
William Shakespeare Greatest English dramatist & poet (1564 - 1616)
Quote of the Day:
It is a great ability to be able to conceal one's ability.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld French author & moralist (1613 - 1680)
I remain, much like thongs on a ugly girl:
JQP esq.
Criticism comes easier than craftsmanship.
Zeuxis Greek painter (~400 BC)
Its been a odd week. Odd indeed.
On Wednesday last, I happened to stop by the bar for a quick drink and a double order of mashed potatoes (and in case your asking, its mashed not whipped, whipped sounds to kinky for something to eat), this was done for several reasons. One, I hate making mashed potatoes, and second my sweet and kind wife loves them. As a result, I sub contract out the work and everyone is happy. Another reason was that my flower was working late and I tend to prefer the company of the barflies to that of the hounds.
I was on my second beer and shot (I was self medicating, I am after all a disabled veteran and my knee hurt, but then again I really don’t need excuses) when “M. Chamberlain Newspaper Man” happened through the door. At once he began regaling me with his exploits over the weekend. As you the avid reader know I last crossed tracks with him at the Rugby Bar on Sunday.
It seems that his Monday took an unexpected turn when he found himself engaged in hand to hand combat with a group of rednecks jacked up on Redbull and Jack Daniels. It seems M. Chamberlain briefly suffered from the illusion that he was a member of the UN peace keepers and tried to break up some fisticuffs. However, he found his patience being tested and had to resort to his Ninja Skills to subdue the Evil-Doers, the moral of the story is that in the great state of Indiana, you don’t mess with the press.
It was about this time my loving bride called and said that she would rather join my at the bar than have me cook a meal. Which she in fact did, however she had neglected to inform me that she was bringing her replacement w/spouse along.
Replacement you ask? Yes, replacement. She is no longer the rock diva, she changed formats and is now the Today’s Pop, Country, Talk-Radio, Girl….she had also asked “The Big-Mick” to join us. Our merry band was thus fortified. And the drinking began in earnest, with thoughts of a steak dinner & mashed potatoes slipping away like sand thorough the hour glass.
The new girls husband it turns out played a primitive game much like rugby but using human heads instead of a ball (hey, they are from Evansville and you know how people are down there). So, we engaged in the male dog ass sniffing behavior that makes rugby as much of a sport off the field as on it. Stories were told, shots downed and cigars smoked…the knee pain was a distant memory.
We folded our tents at about 12:00, yes 12:00 on a school night even. After dropping 120.00 bones, which my loving wife told me was my lunch money for the next week or so…she’s a redhead sometimes its best not to argue, who am I kidding, its always best not to ague with her.
The last time we got into a fight, she said something to the effect of “worry not dear husband, I am not mad at you, I know having discussions like this can be stressful for you, why don’t you go into our bedroom and recline upon our marital bed and rest your eyes, I have to run to the store soon to return.”
...and when she returned she had a can of lighter fluid and a box of Ohio Blue Tip matches. Folks a few things here, one was at that time we didn’t have a grill, two it was winter, and three she put them on the nightstand. Yes, it’s often best not to piss the lady off.
But I digress, wit returned home to a late supper of macaroni and cheese (her favorite drunk food) and off to bed we went. I say bed, but passing out would be a more appropriate term.
Which takes me to No-Love Thursday, since I was looking a feeling my best I isolated myself from my co-workers by saying that I had been exposed to TB and until the tests came back it was best to only have contact with me via e-mail. This was met with very limited success. Hell, I think I am still hung over.
In the afternoon, in a effort to add insult to injury, I was ticked by a member of local law informant in a high crime area for driving with out a seat-belt (I was in my flowers vehicle) fate can be a cruel bitch. At around quitting time here at the Salt Mines, I was called by Pastor Bob, e-mailed by M. Chamberlain and the Sky-Captain, all wishing my presence if only as a ceremonial function. Bowing to a sense of duty and peer pressure I went.
You know the old adage “hair of the dog that bit you”? Well, dear reader, after my exploits Wednesday, I found that bit of folk wisdom not be true, it’s now filed away with those other common wife’s tails like “Protestants all have tails”, “white people smell like wet chickens” and “all republicans are rich”, nope some of them are stupid too. Needless to say, even the Champagne of Beers wasn’t hitting the spot, that and I am still looking for the cat that shit in my mouth sometime druing the night.
However, I was glad that I found the intestinal fortitude to venture out; it was after all Flavia-Puff's first meeting as leader of the No-Love-Thursday Mutual Aid Society and Drinking Club. The first point of order was raised by Pastor Bob, challenging her legitimacy as leader or our refined social club. However, I informed him that certain matters of club business must, by there very nature, be conducted outside of Thursdays, and since we had a quorum on Sunday and a vote held she was it.
Much like that definitive movie “Starship Troopers”, “Flavia-Puff” has the job until she’s dead or we find somebody better. The other line I like from that Oscar Award winning block buster, was “Service equals citizenship”, more on that some other time.
Dear reader, I JQP left after, having only two beers. I retuned home to the manor and fixed myself a big bowl of gazpacho (that and kimchi are good for what ails you). Since my loving and kind wife had to be up and at work by 4, we went to bed at 7:00.
On Today and the Weekend:
Since my wife had a charitable event this morning for the Refuges or Displaced Americans which ever you chose. I found that, I also had a charitable event this morning, my strong Irish back was put to work however, my weak Texan knee wasn’t up to the task, so I have been forced to bum pain killer from co-workers, which sadly was limited to Midol, however I am feeling less bloated. Today, I am tying up some lose ends and cutting out of work half day. Tonight, movies and a good book are in order.
Saturday I am teaching from 8 till noon, but as always I think the class will get out early. It is after all a game day.
My loving wife has a party she wants us to attend Saturday night with people from her work, which should be interesting.
Sunday however could be about as much fun as getting your teeth drilled. I was informed by my bride that she has a country music festival to attend in the great city of South Bend all day. Yes, me and country music, my reply was “Really, what county?”, because you the reader knows how my heart melts at the sound of a gypsy violin.
Sadly its not bluegrass (which I enjoy) or Willie, it looks like I will have to suck one up for the team. So, I will be redneck’en and NASCAR’en with a bunch of people who voted for Bush.
On the plus side, I might get to stop by and visit with a fellow blog author.
( http://catholicpackerfan.blogspot.com/ ) who is where I go for all my sports needs.
Your Drinks for the Weekend:
Kilted Leprechaun with a Tan:
Drink Ingredients:
1 Part Drambuie
1 Part Bailey's Irish Cream
1 Part Malibu Coconut Rum
1 Part 151 Rum
Instruction:
Layer ingredients in the glass, in the following order: Baileys first, Malibu next, Drambuie last. Serve with a smile (to placate the Leprechauns), wearing no underwear, and thinking of sex acts illegal in 27 states).
The Country Club Fart:
Drink Ingredients:
1/2 oz. Stoli Vodka
3 oz. cheap Champagne
Lime Wedge
1/2 oz. Bacardi Light Rum
1/2 oz. Jose Cuervo Tequila
1/2 oz. Dry Gin
Cranberry juice
Instruction:
build over ice in order
Your Bill for the Day:
The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords, in such a just and charitable war.
William Shakespeare Greatest English dramatist & poet (1564 - 1616)
Quote of the Day:
It is a great ability to be able to conceal one's ability.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld French author & moralist (1613 - 1680)
I remain, much like thongs on a ugly girl:
JQP esq.
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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