This weekend was a bit of a going away party for a gentleman I mentioned in an earlier entry, Paul Myerhaug. We had a fantastic time because we partied like it was '99!
Not 1999 but 1799.
We all donned our best powdered wigs, corsets, fop gear and went out and pretended we were extremely debauched, 18th century French Aristocrats.
The first place we hit was an English style pub with a piano player who had a drum machine. He played excellent songs like Mony Mony and everyone yelled out "Hey mother fucker, get laid, get fucked!" Boy, I never get sick of that nor do I ever get sick of the drunk sitting by himself who will stagger into you and tell ya how today's generation is responsible for everything from rampent crime to sickle cell anemia.
After that, we headed to a strip bar. The lady who had her legs wrapped around a pole noticed us dandies and when her "set" was finished, she invited us up to her hotel room. We all thought we had reached heaven but it turns out she just wanted to tell us about an exciting new income opportunity. I'm sure it was viable but I didn't hear a word as I was concentrating on her stunning labia.
Then we did some other stuff that I don't want to get into but let's just say Meyerhaug looks fantastic in a studded codpiece.
K, I'm gonna try and catch some sleep and think of a better blog entry idea for tomorrow.
Bouy fernow.
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