me: “Man, could I go for some Supertramp right now.”
fourth double martini:
me: “Or some Styx…”
fourth double martini:
me:
fourth double martini:
me: “… ‘Oh Mama I’m in fear for my life from the long arm of the law –’”
fourth double martini: “– Uh huh. Time to go to bed, brother.”
BECAUSE OF THE MOOG!
Cool, I just realized that these 1:01 AM posts are done in the future. You are the man!
Should I buy pork bellies or Merck?
…that martini was bloody well right; given the two, bad choice.
Dammit I need to find some new blogs, Wizbang ruined my lunch now you gonna give bad dreams.
RAWK. ON.
Memories of the 4th Quarter at Steelers games…
Will you be having the kippers for breakfast, mommy-dear, mommy-dear?
Dude! Get over it.
Yeah, I just finished my third bourbon on the rocks slightly diluted with some peach-flavored Propel Fitness water and I just want to say that this post really hit home for me.
Renegade, the only sticks song that doesn’t turn straight men gay just by listening.
Oh, Styx is much better: after all, Supertramp took themselves way too seriously (note British grammar).
If only our mere mortal livers could handle MORE vodka….the world would be filled with dozens of creative and interesting bloggers. Instead we have only one…Jeff.
*burp*
You have very wise alcoholic beverages, my friend.
Would that we were all so lucky.
It only takes 4 doubles before your martinis start talking to you? You’re out of practice man.
After six doubles, they start talking Proust.
I don’t get so drunk anymore that the cocktails speak. I’ve trained myself to pass out first.
Also prevents waking up with scary people.
TW:physical,as in: Let’s not.
Leaving out REO Speedwagon = big dick move.
I’ll just sulk, thanks.
At least you had a martini to talk to you, Jeff. I came home from class last night to find out that my ginormous bottle of Grey Goose had somehow rolled out of the freezer, hit the floor, and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Needless to say, the vodka inside was a-gonner.
*sob*
Suicidal vodka. What an enormous waste of talent….
NukemHill, that’s what straws are for.
Get down there and get to work!
TW: between,as in: Look! There’s some more between the stove and the counter!
Clippers! Break out the Clippers!
Must not have been a Bombay Sapphire martini – those are the most arrogant, unhelpful martinis around. Darn tasty, however…
OH MY GOSH!… My friends and I were out last weekend and one of my Best friends said you have to try a French Martini! So I ordered one! It was so strong it could have burnt my husbands nose hairs! (If he had tried it?) … Yikes! I couldn’t drink it so she did! That made 2 French Martinis for her! Needless to say I drove home! Those are POWERFUL…
Back in Styx’s heyday, a fat chick asked me to go see them with her. I tolerated the concert and enjoyed her company. I even kissed her goodnight though that must have surely been due to the aftereffects of second-hand smoke, if’n you know what I mean. I didn’t reciprocate because she was a fat chick. Dang, I did some stoopid and pointless things when I was young. And ‘70’s anonyrock, especially the Dennis DeYoung variety, didn’t make me any smarter or focused. No point here, just hoping Dr. Phil reads this blog.
Suggested “Conceptual Series” post:
Manimal.
‘Nuff said.
SB: complete
Now my arm is
I feel the need to interject an OT minirant here, it seems a dam is failing in Mass., and the guvnor had this to say:
If you are canoeing down a river and come upon a group of hotties skinny-dipping, that is a “very significant water event”, Mitt. When a dam breaks you get a fucking flood.
Thank you, /rant off.
nice point B. But I think the only significant event going on around here is that those four double wuss drinks that Jeff had last night apparently kept him down for quite a while. It’s 2:15 EST, and I’ve usually had my first helping of protein wisdom by now. Hopefully it’s nothing more serious than a little barfing and some alka-seltzer.
Roger that on the wuss drinks – he probably drives a Boxter too.
“Too bad about your penis…”
SB: progress
Forward, into the past!
Hear, hear on that one! I mean, Manimal is right up there with Cop Rock in the “what the [expletive deleted] was the network thinking department. It deserves its moment in the sun, to bask in its sublime awfulness.
And we may even have its new millennium equivalent already – anyone heard of the new Samuel Jackson project (I kid you not) Snakes on A Plane?
Ah yesss, Snakes on a plane.
All of you fail to appreciate the genius that was Styx. Before Dennis DeYoung got all egotistical and shit.
Heathens.
“Got”…?