Tonight. Tonight was a night with the Rackamonie and the Pookie. (And I know, I say “was” like it’s over…and it really…pretty much is.) But I have now shared two pitchers and had three additional beers and am sufficiently…buzzed. So…for them…it is over. Even though, “buzzed” for me, means “Hey, who rocks da party that rocks da par-ty?” (It’s always me…because my friends go to bed really early.)
Pookie’s calling herself “cratchity” nowadays. And when I tried to correct her with, “I think you mean crotchety” she merely said, “No. I mean cratchity.” And I am not exactly sure what that means. But I can only assume that it means “I have a boyfriend, and I go to bed really early.” But, really? I have a boyfriend…and I still don’t go to bed early. Especially on Fridays. Ummm…what’s up with that?
Boyfriends are supposed to make you stay up late…And I really hope that her boyfriend is worth staying up really late for. Cause, damn.
Anyway, we started out at “The Palace” (where everybody knows your name…and they’re always glad you came…) and ended at a place called “The Alibi”. This would be where the “mutant roach” attacked me and Spliff, but for some reason, I feel compelled to go back again and again…(because of the cute bartender) and buy cheap beer and play Social Distortion on the jukebox. There was a guy there tonight (obviously homeless) who wasn’t wearing any underwear and had his shirt up over his head like a) Cornholio and b) JGJ the other day when he looked most like a nun. When he left, (shirt still screaming, “I need TP for my bunghole!”) his pants fell off, and we watched his brown ass wobble outside.
“I see his ass!” (because, evidently, even with the company I keep, I am not used to the bare ass in public.)
All I can say is, even though they go to bed early, my friends rock. (But they suck at the Megatouch version of Tritowers.)
Now…if you will excuse me, I have some vodka to attend to.