I was about to type in a text to a friend a few days ago that said 'oh shit, here comes the guilt and panic.' but then autocorrect changed to it 'guilt and penis' and I decided to consider it an omen and not get myself quite so worked up. Just the next right action. What do I need to do right now?
I promise I will post Wednesdays' Weirdos again next week, but the pictures for this week got trapped on my camera with a dead battery. Sorry. I suck. Instead I'll tell you a drinking story. We were in St. Louis visiting for the holidays and a rare opportunity to get annihilated with my girlfriends presented itself. I started out with two beers while I was waiting for the girls with Rob's friends. Then, when we got to the fancy-pants bar I switched to whiskey on the rocks. I'm at sea level so I think I can drink like a champ. Hmmm. After about three of these and I-don't-remember-how-many shots, I switched back to beer. Damn, I'm bright. At some point in the evening I realize that we're in a bar that used to be my favorite bar in the whole world. It was called Tangerine then. They had Go Go dancers on the bar and let you climb on it and had hand shaped chairs so your butt got held. They had trucker night where you got your drinks in mugs. They ha...
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