Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Today is the first day of June, which reminds me to tell you: if anyone has a place for me to live in September or knows of a job that I could have, or a general direction in which I could take my life, that would be great. Your comments are welcome.
In other news, it was a big Memorial Day weekend, which I celebrated by A)Going to bars B) Playing Tiger Woods Golf on the ol' X-Box and C) Riding the exercise bicycle at Bally's Total Fitness.
On Friday night, I met Fernald and Sheri at the Foggy Goggle in the Back Bay area. The best part about the Foggy Goggle was not the hot bartenders, nor the giant woman unofficially dubbed "The Foggy Goggle Resident Funnel Champ", but rather the restrooms, which juxtaposed dirty stalls and chipped tiles with candy dishes, a selection of colognes, and a bathroom attendant, who kindly informed me, "Sir, that sink is broken, try this one."
On Saturday night, Steve and I went out to Jose McIntyre's with all four Fernald brothers to celebrate Adam Fernald's 21st birthday. Immediately upon walking into the bar, we met some fine young vixens who demanded that we order up a round of JagerBombs, which is a shot of jagermeister, dropped into a cup of redbull. If you haven't had one of these before, I would compare it to chugging a bottle of Robotussen. After a few drinks, proceeded to the dance floor, where we found some ladyfriends and shook our groove thangs. After the bar closed, we went outside and met up with the first group of girls we had talked to that night. One of the girls told me that she would let me see her, uh, "Jagerbombs" if I were to hit Brendan in the junk. I wasn't really contemplating this option until I looked over at Brendan and saw him telling a story to some girl. At the very moment that I turned to look at him, he bent over, ass in the air, directly in front of me. Now, I'm sure that the reason he did this was to illustrate a point in his story, yet part of me couldn't help but thinking he was almost asking me to do it. I took one step toward him, drew back my hand, and walloped his undercarriage with unforgiving force. I was immediately apologetic, particularly after realizing that JagerBombs would not hold up her end of the deal. I offered Brendan a free punch, though he didn't take it. The moral of the story is: I will be nice to you, unless I stand to gain something by hitting you when you are not looking. The End.
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In other news, it was a big Memorial Day weekend, which I celebrated by A)Going to bars B) Playing Tiger Woods Golf on the ol' X-Box and C) Riding the exercise bicycle at Bally's Total Fitness.
On Friday night, I met Fernald and Sheri at the Foggy Goggle in the Back Bay area. The best part about the Foggy Goggle was not the hot bartenders, nor the giant woman unofficially dubbed "The Foggy Goggle Resident Funnel Champ", but rather the restrooms, which juxtaposed dirty stalls and chipped tiles with candy dishes, a selection of colognes, and a bathroom attendant, who kindly informed me, "Sir, that sink is broken, try this one."
On Saturday night, Steve and I went out to Jose McIntyre's with all four Fernald brothers to celebrate Adam Fernald's 21st birthday. Immediately upon walking into the bar, we met some fine young vixens who demanded that we order up a round of JagerBombs, which is a shot of jagermeister, dropped into a cup of redbull. If you haven't had one of these before, I would compare it to chugging a bottle of Robotussen. After a few drinks, proceeded to the dance floor, where we found some ladyfriends and shook our groove thangs. After the bar closed, we went outside and met up with the first group of girls we had talked to that night. One of the girls told me that she would let me see her, uh, "Jagerbombs" if I were to hit Brendan in the junk. I wasn't really contemplating this option until I looked over at Brendan and saw him telling a story to some girl. At the very moment that I turned to look at him, he bent over, ass in the air, directly in front of me. Now, I'm sure that the reason he did this was to illustrate a point in his story, yet part of me couldn't help but thinking he was almost asking me to do it. I took one step toward him, drew back my hand, and walloped his undercarriage with unforgiving force. I was immediately apologetic, particularly after realizing that JagerBombs would not hold up her end of the deal. I offered Brendan a free punch, though he didn't take it. The moral of the story is: I will be nice to you, unless I stand to gain something by hitting you when you are not looking. The End.
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