Once upon a time, right outside of a town called Butte (that's pronounced, byoote, dork) in Montana, a bear wakes up after a loooong winter's nap. As he stretches and scratches and rolls out to bed, the bear thinks to himself, self, a beer sounds mighty fine right about now.
So, he lumbers to the edge of the woods and wanders into the beautiful town of Butte and enters the first bar he sees, slams his big furry paw down on the bar and says "barkeep! Get me a beer"
The bartender soberly stares down the beast and says "new city ordinance. We don't sell beers to bears in bars in Butte, Montana".
The bear, still sleepy and confused, looks strangely at the man and walks out. The bear waddles down the road, in search of a more accomodating watering hole and stumbles upon a quaint tavern in which they also informed him that they could not, indeed, sell beers to bears in bars in Butte, Montana.
The bear was now irritated and stumbled into the seedy side of town. Surely these scums would sell a beer to a bear.
So, our furry friend finds some random dive on the wrong side of the tracks, slams his fist down on the bar and roars "Gimme a beer!" The bartender looks at the bear, picks his nose and says "sorry, we don't sell beers to bear..."
"I don't give a FUCK!" the bear bellowed. "I slept all damn winter and i'm going to wake up and have a fucking BEER! Now, give me a beer or i'll.... i'll..." The bear looked around and spotted a 40 year old prostitute with trackmarks and a hearing aid. "If you don't get me a beer, i'm going to eat HER!"
"Sorry, we don't sell..."
The bear was off in a flash, red pumps, hearing aid, everything, gone.
He came back to the bartender and said "you're next, give me a beer."
The bartender, slightly swayed said, very softly and very quickly so as not to be interrupted, "sorry, we don't sell beers to bears on drugs in bars in Butte, Montana."
"What the fuck are you talking about, i'm not on any drugs! Are you nuts?"
"Well, how do you explain the bar bitch you ate (barbituate)?"
Woooo... knee slapper, people. My uncle Charlie told me that one when i was 12. Good ol uncle Charlie.
I don't like to drink, personally. I would much, much rather sit down at the end of the day with some decent pot, but last night... last night i was supermegauberdrunk. It was not pretty. But, i do have to say, i had fun. It was nice. And for once, it was my idea. I'm not exactly the party type, and if i go out to a bar it's usually be being taken there. I do not know, for the life of me, how i got upstairs, undressed and in bed. I mean, there are pieces i remember, but, i surely was not capable of it. Nutty stuff. $1 domestic longnecks, wednesdays at the Cellar II in beautiful downtown Normal, IL. You should come. Be there or be a piarate
or... something.
Anyway... I'm going to go get more ice for my mega-huge orange Hi-c from MickieDeez.
That reminds me of a story of when Jonny was working the drive thru, but i'll fil in the blank later.
Remember, give the bear a beer. Look at the poor guy...
I'm gonna start a joke group.
So, he lumbers to the edge of the woods and wanders into the beautiful town of Butte and enters the first bar he sees, slams his big furry paw down on the bar and says "barkeep! Get me a beer"
The bartender soberly stares down the beast and says "new city ordinance. We don't sell beers to bears in bars in Butte, Montana".
The bear, still sleepy and confused, looks strangely at the man and walks out. The bear waddles down the road, in search of a more accomodating watering hole and stumbles upon a quaint tavern in which they also informed him that they could not, indeed, sell beers to bears in bars in Butte, Montana.
The bear was now irritated and stumbled into the seedy side of town. Surely these scums would sell a beer to a bear.
So, our furry friend finds some random dive on the wrong side of the tracks, slams his fist down on the bar and roars "Gimme a beer!" The bartender looks at the bear, picks his nose and says "sorry, we don't sell beers to bear..."
"I don't give a FUCK!" the bear bellowed. "I slept all damn winter and i'm going to wake up and have a fucking BEER! Now, give me a beer or i'll.... i'll..." The bear looked around and spotted a 40 year old prostitute with trackmarks and a hearing aid. "If you don't get me a beer, i'm going to eat HER!"
"Sorry, we don't sell..."
The bear was off in a flash, red pumps, hearing aid, everything, gone.
He came back to the bartender and said "you're next, give me a beer."
The bartender, slightly swayed said, very softly and very quickly so as not to be interrupted, "sorry, we don't sell beers to bears on drugs in bars in Butte, Montana."
"What the fuck are you talking about, i'm not on any drugs! Are you nuts?"
"Well, how do you explain the bar bitch you ate (barbituate)?"
Woooo... knee slapper, people. My uncle Charlie told me that one when i was 12. Good ol uncle Charlie.
I don't like to drink, personally. I would much, much rather sit down at the end of the day with some decent pot, but last night... last night i was supermegauberdrunk. It was not pretty. But, i do have to say, i had fun. It was nice. And for once, it was my idea. I'm not exactly the party type, and if i go out to a bar it's usually be being taken there. I do not know, for the life of me, how i got upstairs, undressed and in bed. I mean, there are pieces i remember, but, i surely was not capable of it. Nutty stuff. $1 domestic longnecks, wednesdays at the Cellar II in beautiful downtown Normal, IL. You should come. Be there or be a piarate
or... something.
Anyway... I'm going to go get more ice for my mega-huge orange Hi-c from MickieDeez.
That reminds me of a story of when Jonny was working the drive thru, but i'll fil in the blank later.
Remember, give the bear a beer. Look at the poor guy...
I'm gonna start a joke group.
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I try to keep my drinking to a minimum. Otherwise, I get fiesty. In addition, women like to take advantage of me... did you you know alchy lowers you inhibitions?