Night Out
Yawn. Another night out. I am getting too old for this shit.
So, last night I popped into the Guinness legacy event that was taking place in the pub located down the road. The place was packed, way too packed. I ended up standing in line for my pint and then I had to wedge myself into a corner. Alan, never one to turn down something free, helped himself at the buffet, which was mostly sliced fruit and cheese. In the front of the pub they had some little display set up in front of the stage and every now and then some dude would hop up and blab some stuff into the microphone. I had no idea what he was saying, so I carefully made my way to the front of the pub. By time I got up there, he was finished. So I plowed on back again. After two pints I decided it was way too crowded for my taste, and headed on out.
I really cannot complain, after all it was free beer.
After that I went home and soaked in the tub for a while, and then headed down to I-bar. It really was not very busy there. Most of the wilder costumes I like to see were not on display. No goggle girls, no thigh-high buckle boots. There was still the Boobarella girl, (You can see my BoooOooObs!) and the girl who appeared to be wearing just a pair of lace panties, so I really cannot complain. At one point I looked over and saw three bald men dancing on the floor, which led me to compose this spur of the moment poem:
Three bald men,
twirling,
twirling,
twirling about!
Like billiard balls clacking,
Like moons in the sky,
the light reflects from their heads
and into my eyes.
Shallan supplied this haiku:
goth girl is dancing
her panties are of black lace
her ass eats them up
I am going to take a moment to give my totally unsolicited opinion on tans. I am not a tan fan. I think there is nothing more beautiful on a woman than smooth white alabaster skin. Creamy as milk, like a roman statue. That being said, there was a girl there last night with a flat pure-white tummy. After gawking at that with a few rum and cokes in me, I wanted to slurp on that shit like Jeff Goldblum in 'the fly'.
Hmm, Perhaps I did not need to share that thought.
Once midnight rolled around we headed out. I managed to stay away form the hot-dog cart even though it's enchanted smells wafted up to me and plucked at my nose like a naughty sausage lover. There is a reason they put these hotdog stands right outside of bars... so when drunks like me wander outside and end up getting the munchies.
I think at lunch today I am going to have to sneak out and have a little snooze under a tree.
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