Hello, my little monkeys. Hope you all had a great weekend. Mine was most interesting.
Friday: Whilst enjoying a pint at Castlebay, I was told by a female stranger I "Look like
someone I haven't met yet." Now, I'm no fancy-pants gigolo, but if that's a
pick-up line, it's the worst one I've ever heard, and I know something about bad
Saturday: I was at a friend's wedding on Saturday. The day was beautiful, and the ceremony ended at 130. The reception didn't start until 3pm, so a few of us went downtown to a sea-side bar called Pusser's. We sat out next to the piers and had a few fruity drinks. We then realized open bar started at the reception at 2, so we went post-haste to the reception only to learn the reception started a 4, not 3, and the open bar started at 3, not 2. So, like all good soldiers, we sat at the bar and drank bourbon until 3, when we went into the reception and hit the open bar. About three hours later, we had cleaned them out of bourbon. Felling absolutely no pain, we let slip the dogs of war. Although I don't remember doing so, evidence has it on good authority I went to all the bridesmaids and convinced them to dance with each other. I then grabbed a piece of wedding cake, an additional drink, and went out to the dance floor where I simply stood there, eating cake and drinking bourbon, watching them dance. Oh, and trying to get them to smell each other. Go figure. Oh yeah, and the after-party at McGarvey's was pretty much the same. I vaguely remember the bartender telling us we had polished off thier bourbon as well. Eek. On a positive note, the vivacious and always pleasant "shiny eyes" Abigail showed up and we amused each other until one of our other neighbors showed up. You see, I was wearing the little bell you ring at a wedding to get the couple to kiss. On an ill-advised bet from Mike, I donned the bell and pretty much drank free all night for it. Well, anytime a girl rang the ball, I got a smooch. Good plan, right? Well, the neighbor is a guy, and rang the bell before I could stop him. Yikes. Abby thought quickly for me (she's such a trooper,) commenting on what had to happen. The neighbor smiled and said "ok!" and planted one directly on Abby's lips. Yikes redux.
Sunday: Slept in, with the intention of going out on Mike's new boat with John, and perhaps Abby. At noon, I was good to go. Abby couldn't make it, so I sat on my doorstep for four hours playing my guitar drinking beer. As it turns out, Mike's boat died about 300 yards off-shore, and John had dropped his phone in the ocean, so they couldn't call me. Tee hee hee.