I have a big gash in my forehead.
"How did this happen, you stupid bastard", I'm sure you're compassionately wondering.
Allow poppa to tell another of his infamous stories.
Let's set the scene: it's Sunday, late afternoon, football on the TV and my brother over.
We decided that Sunday would not be Sunday if there wasn't a beer or two imbibed while shooting the shit and eyeing the boob tube, so we bought a 12-pack of Busch (yes Busch, fuck you, I make $7 an hour, Busch does just nicely in a pinch AND it's cheaper then PBR these days, go figure) and proceeded to do what we seem to do best -- drink.
This lead to some brotherly bonding via conversation.
This also lead to us walking up to the new Irish pub by my place.
This in turn lead to a few pints of Bass (he paid, he loves me) and a quick pissing off of all the patrons as we overtook the jukebox and continuously played Guns and Roses, Appetite for Destruction, over and over and over again, in honor of Axel 'I'm a Cock-horse' Rose and his decision to pull the plug on his G&R tour.
(Editors Note - it seems that all the other members of G&R are together and have grabbed the singer from Neurotica to record a new album. Also, the original line-up contacted Axel in offer to tour as the original band but Mr. Cock-horse declined. Hey Axel, nice plastic surgery, you turd.)
Anywho, allow me to continue.
After those pints and a G&R overdose, we decided to hit my favorite hole-in-the-wall, the Tiny Tap pub.
This is the kinda place that offers 20oz Budwiesers in a plastic cup for $1.75, know what I mean?
Thank God for these places.
The tap caters to underpaid, funny-haired tattooed kids (me, my brother), aspiring alcoholics (your mom), wino's, junkies, pimps and whores.
Well, no pimps or whores that I saw, but it sounded good and I've been listening to too much Social D, Live at the Roxy, so I'm gonna say it anyway.
As I said, we'd already had our bonding conversation for the day and we were about a six-pack to the wind each, so of course we decided to play pool.
Why talk we you can kick your younger siblings ass in a game of skill, right?
And I did.
Kick my siblings ass, that is.
And to punctuate the fact that I won the game, I stabbed him in the sternum with my pool cue.
Hard.
In return to my attempt at affection he cracked me in the cranium with his pool cue.
Hard.
So I tackled him.
Hard.
Tale of the Tape:
Little brother (6'-2", 170 lbs)
Myself (5'11", 145 lbs)
Let's keep in mind, he's 28, I'm 32 and I've been scrapping 4 more years than he has. He's probably stronger, but no technique.
Little brother lost, but gave me a hell of a bashed head and a jacked up elbow.
He thinks I dislocated his shoulder.
It was more fun then a barrel of monkies, although that term is an odd mental picture indeed.
And what did the patrons and the bartender of the Tiny Tap do during this beer-fueled, testosterone-laden brotherly competition of wits?
Laugh and applaud.
Hell yes, I'm heading back there tonight -- white trash here I come.
-Scotty
PS Leaf, get me tickets to the Kings of Nuthin' show. And a plane ticket. And a new truck.
God love ya.
"How did this happen, you stupid bastard", I'm sure you're compassionately wondering.
Allow poppa to tell another of his infamous stories.
Let's set the scene: it's Sunday, late afternoon, football on the TV and my brother over.
We decided that Sunday would not be Sunday if there wasn't a beer or two imbibed while shooting the shit and eyeing the boob tube, so we bought a 12-pack of Busch (yes Busch, fuck you, I make $7 an hour, Busch does just nicely in a pinch AND it's cheaper then PBR these days, go figure) and proceeded to do what we seem to do best -- drink.
This lead to some brotherly bonding via conversation.
This also lead to us walking up to the new Irish pub by my place.
This in turn lead to a few pints of Bass (he paid, he loves me) and a quick pissing off of all the patrons as we overtook the jukebox and continuously played Guns and Roses, Appetite for Destruction, over and over and over again, in honor of Axel 'I'm a Cock-horse' Rose and his decision to pull the plug on his G&R tour.
(Editors Note - it seems that all the other members of G&R are together and have grabbed the singer from Neurotica to record a new album. Also, the original line-up contacted Axel in offer to tour as the original band but Mr. Cock-horse declined. Hey Axel, nice plastic surgery, you turd.)
Anywho, allow me to continue.
After those pints and a G&R overdose, we decided to hit my favorite hole-in-the-wall, the Tiny Tap pub.
This is the kinda place that offers 20oz Budwiesers in a plastic cup for $1.75, know what I mean?
Thank God for these places.
The tap caters to underpaid, funny-haired tattooed kids (me, my brother), aspiring alcoholics (your mom), wino's, junkies, pimps and whores.
Well, no pimps or whores that I saw, but it sounded good and I've been listening to too much Social D, Live at the Roxy, so I'm gonna say it anyway.
As I said, we'd already had our bonding conversation for the day and we were about a six-pack to the wind each, so of course we decided to play pool.
Why talk we you can kick your younger siblings ass in a game of skill, right?
And I did.
Kick my siblings ass, that is.
And to punctuate the fact that I won the game, I stabbed him in the sternum with my pool cue.
Hard.
In return to my attempt at affection he cracked me in the cranium with his pool cue.
Hard.
So I tackled him.
Hard.
Tale of the Tape:
Little brother (6'-2", 170 lbs)
Myself (5'11", 145 lbs)
Let's keep in mind, he's 28, I'm 32 and I've been scrapping 4 more years than he has. He's probably stronger, but no technique.
Little brother lost, but gave me a hell of a bashed head and a jacked up elbow.
He thinks I dislocated his shoulder.
It was more fun then a barrel of monkies, although that term is an odd mental picture indeed.
And what did the patrons and the bartender of the Tiny Tap do during this beer-fueled, testosterone-laden brotherly competition of wits?
Laugh and applaud.
Hell yes, I'm heading back there tonight -- white trash here I come.
-Scotty
PS Leaf, get me tickets to the Kings of Nuthin' show. And a plane ticket. And a new truck.
God love ya.
*devilish grin*
Sweet!!!
I've been dying for a little bastard that floats and flaps ...