It’s been a little quiet here at On the Rocks this week; but have no fear, inebriation is coming. Saturday will be Toe’s birthday celebration—and you all know how those turn out around here. Last year his birthday party resulted in an energetic lesbian lovefest in Diesel’s VIP section. Not surprisingly, we’ll be back at Diesel again this year, and again we are scheduled to have a table or two in VIP. Girlfriend will be there, and she’s bringing some friends.
“Honey check it,
Tell your friends, to get with my friends,
And we can be friends…
Shit we can do this every weekend…
Aight? Is that aight with you?
Yeah... keep bangin”
I foresee Dupa dancing on a couch wearing stunna shades—and no pants. I foresee Girlfriend (who, at 3:47 pm this afternoon sent me a text message that said, plainly and succinctly, “Car bomb”; god I love that woman) extending her pinkie while downing muchas Coronas. I foresee Chappy bailing on everyone in pursuit of a girl who he won’t score with. I foresee a Farmer’s Special at Tom’s Diner at 2:30 a.m. I foresee…well, basically, more of the lunacy that has taken place at every other birthday outing that I’ve been a part of before [If you doubt me, scroll down to the “Labels” list below. Click on “birthday”…and picture me rollin’.]
Monday, however, will be an even bigger event (and, in my decidedly un-Christian view of life, the real holiday of the week): the Pittsburgh Pirates' Home Opener. I wrote last year about the escapades that the day saw, and I fully expect more of the same this time around. Tony and I talked last night, and it looks like we’ve nearly doubled our number of revelers. We could be pushing the needle towards “epic.”
So enjoy this mild pause in the action, readers. Rest your eyes, because the forecast is calling for a heavy downpour of “lol” across the page next week. Salud.