On Work Parties, ER, and paying to much for Drinks:
Well, it was an event filled day for yours truly. As some of you know I have been very sick all week. Vomiting, fever, joint aches, numbness in my feet and fingers, and a racing heart. You know one of those laugh a minute weeks.
However, my Flower had her work “Holiday” party and I being the dutiful husband, had to put on my Wedding-funeral-interview suit (in reality a lime green 1982 Rose Bowl Blazer, crushed red velvet v-neck sweater and a somewhat clean pair of Dickies work pants. While I was getting ready, I noticed a large lump (oddly, I wasn’t doing my hourly testicular cancer self-check, one can never be to vigilant) on the back of my leg. A lump the size of a golf ball.
I asked my loving wife to look at it and she said “my God, what is that!” followed by "lets pop it". She then squeezed and I screamed, she then said “wow, look at what I just pulled out of your leg”.
It seems that at some point over the weekend, I sat, fell on, or was knocked down on a Bark Scorpion. What she had pulled out of my leg was the stinger and venom sack of one. At least that’s what the doctor at ER said it was, he also said, it was no wonder I was sick for three days.
I have been here 62 days, and I have driven 70 miles on one lane dirt roads in the mountains (I still have not gotten the stains out my underwear from that one), been to a ghost town, toured a whore house museum ( I am big on culture), had two jobs, seen the Stones and Aerosmith, pee’d on the Roosevelt dam, gotten asked to leave two bars, went to Indian bars with Mexican gangsters, played in a nation rugby tournament, got thrown out of a Rugby party 3 times (for being drunk, What? It’s a R-U-G-B-Y party, fucking white people) and now I have gotten stung by a damn scorpion. Retirement agrees with me eh, what?
Back to the “Holiday Party” well, getting stung and going to the ER didn’t get my out of it. We drove to Scottsdale, think of a Western themed Beverly Hills, and attended the party on the roof top of the Hotel Valley Ho, really that’s its name, Google it. I was a big hit, especially when I grabbed the microphone and sang Dixie followed by Leader of the Pack. Since, I am unemployed I spent a lot of time shoving appetizers in my pockets.
Really, the place was trendy and swank, we had two drinks at the bar (a normal gin and tonic for myself and a vodka tonic for my flower) for the amazing low price of 38.00, which was a good thing, it keep us from getting drunk and making even more of an ass out of ourselves, than noraml. All in all we had a good time. Dec. on a roof top, and 70 degrees...
Wait till I tell you about what we have going this weekend…
All, my best:
JQP
However, my Flower had her work “Holiday” party and I being the dutiful husband, had to put on my Wedding-funeral-interview suit (in reality a lime green 1982 Rose Bowl Blazer, crushed red velvet v-neck sweater and a somewhat clean pair of Dickies work pants. While I was getting ready, I noticed a large lump (oddly, I wasn’t doing my hourly testicular cancer self-check, one can never be to vigilant) on the back of my leg. A lump the size of a golf ball.
I asked my loving wife to look at it and she said “my God, what is that!” followed by "lets pop it". She then squeezed and I screamed, she then said “wow, look at what I just pulled out of your leg”.
It seems that at some point over the weekend, I sat, fell on, or was knocked down on a Bark Scorpion. What she had pulled out of my leg was the stinger and venom sack of one. At least that’s what the doctor at ER said it was, he also said, it was no wonder I was sick for three days.
I have been here 62 days, and I have driven 70 miles on one lane dirt roads in the mountains (I still have not gotten the stains out my underwear from that one), been to a ghost town, toured a whore house museum ( I am big on culture), had two jobs, seen the Stones and Aerosmith, pee’d on the Roosevelt dam, gotten asked to leave two bars, went to Indian bars with Mexican gangsters, played in a nation rugby tournament, got thrown out of a Rugby party 3 times (for being drunk, What? It’s a R-U-G-B-Y party, fucking white people) and now I have gotten stung by a damn scorpion. Retirement agrees with me eh, what?
Back to the “Holiday Party” well, getting stung and going to the ER didn’t get my out of it. We drove to Scottsdale, think of a Western themed Beverly Hills, and attended the party on the roof top of the Hotel Valley Ho, really that’s its name, Google it. I was a big hit, especially when I grabbed the microphone and sang Dixie followed by Leader of the Pack. Since, I am unemployed I spent a lot of time shoving appetizers in my pockets.
Really, the place was trendy and swank, we had two drinks at the bar (a normal gin and tonic for myself and a vodka tonic for my flower) for the amazing low price of 38.00, which was a good thing, it keep us from getting drunk and making even more of an ass out of ourselves, than noraml. All in all we had a good time. Dec. on a roof top, and 70 degrees...
Wait till I tell you about what we have going this weekend…
All, my best:
JQP
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 4:20 PM
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