Some folks like to say that History is written by the winners. And I've always tended to agree with that. But I think that idea should be amended. The saying should be: History was written by the winners, now it's being written by winners with self-loathing guilt complexes.
Last Thursday I had the extreme pleasure to go to an event held on the patio of some upper end joint here in the Gate City called How Green Is My Valley Grill. Some woman I barely know and her husband, who I know even less of, hosted this event. And they are nice folks. Blah, blah, blah. It was one of those deals where bottles of wine are put away at a rapid pace. The reason being so that everyone can get drunk enough to find whatever other folks are saying interesting. You can't really fault anyone for that. Me, I'm pretty entertaining sober. At least when I try. And I don't drink wine. So, I wasn't getting drunk. I stuck to Hoegaarden. I sat there wishing I was drunk. Believe me. I'll tell you why. At this little gathering were several folks I did not know. 2 of them were really something. The 1st was a dude, probably in his early to mid 30's. A dude who was flaming. I mean this kid was on fire with outlandish, stereotypical gay behavior. I think the kid's name was Ron. And Ron was drinking fast. And being loud. And talking about gay porn. Now, the crowd at this restaurant, as I mentioned, is on the swanky side. And there were folks nearby who seemed pissed at listening to Ron's tales of random gay sex romps. Me, I was nonplussed. Now, there was a woman with Ron. A woman named Stacey I believe. And Stacey was also loud. And also drunk. And also pissing off the reserved, upper-crust of Greensboro. I was not closely listening to everything these folks were saying. I was talking to my buddy Phil about whatever. All I knew was that this Ron, Stacey, and the 3 or 4 other folks from our party hanging with them, were loud, obnoxious, and irritating folks not in our party. At one point I looked down the way to this crew and then I saw something that made the night memorable. Stacey was flashing her C cup tits right out on this swanky restaurant's patio for not only Ron, myself, and the other folks with our party to admire, but for a couple dozen of How Green Is My Valley's best customers to get a gander of as well (for what it's worth, this Stacey wasn't unattractive, and yes, she had a nice rack {I'm sure Geilfuss and Brandon were wondering about that...}). Well, as you can imagine, one patron went to complain to some manager. I happened to wander inside as this uptight broad was talking to the manager. And my favorite thing that this woman said, as she complained about the tit flashing and gay porn talk, was that she had never seen "people like that" in the How Green Is My Valley. I got a big bang out of that. I really did. Well, I went back out and informed the hostess of our little party what was about to go down. And everything was fine. Ron and Stacey agreed to take off from the party. No issue. The uptight woman and her cuckolded hubby left after a bit. About an hour passes. Everyone is simply getting drunker and drunker. I'm just dying to get the hell out of the place. Then, sure enough, Ron and Stacey come back. They didn't stay long. Ron was there just long enough to regale me with a story about being whipped in the ass by a dominatrix while being forced to perform fellatio on a straight guy. I mocked Ron. The last thing Ron did before leaving for good was proposition me for a good 10 minutes. Alas, that was a waste of the kid's time. Because, as all of you know, I don't get down like that. Old Ron was suggesting some things that I'm guessing would be very enticing for fellow practitioners of the anal arts. Eventually everyone took off. I was the only person, except the hostess's husband, who wasn't hammered. It was something.
The best line of the night of the party was not uttered by Ron, Stacey, or even yours truly. It was uttered by an old Boston Irish drunk named Jack. Now, the How Green Is My Valley Restaurant is swanky, as I mentioned. It's located inside the O Henry Hotel, which is also fairly swanky (it's 5 stars...). Anyway, Drunk Jack is evidently not accustomed to such nice surroundings. He kept commenting throughout the night about how impressed he was with everything. I mean he was really going on about the place. At one point towards the end of the party Drunk Jack described the restaurant, hotel, food, quality of wine, and the general ambiance of the stupid party like this: "This reminds me of modern day Ancient Rome." I fell over laughing and told Phil, "That's a blog post title right there."
Last Thursday I had the extreme pleasure to go to an event held on the patio of some upper end joint here in the Gate City called How Green Is My Valley Grill. Some woman I barely know and her husband, who I know even less of, hosted this event. And they are nice folks. Blah, blah, blah. It was one of those deals where bottles of wine are put away at a rapid pace. The reason being so that everyone can get drunk enough to find whatever other folks are saying interesting. You can't really fault anyone for that. Me, I'm pretty entertaining sober. At least when I try. And I don't drink wine. So, I wasn't getting drunk. I stuck to Hoegaarden. I sat there wishing I was drunk. Believe me. I'll tell you why. At this little gathering were several folks I did not know. 2 of them were really something. The 1st was a dude, probably in his early to mid 30's. A dude who was flaming. I mean this kid was on fire with outlandish, stereotypical gay behavior. I think the kid's name was Ron. And Ron was drinking fast. And being loud. And talking about gay porn. Now, the crowd at this restaurant, as I mentioned, is on the swanky side. And there were folks nearby who seemed pissed at listening to Ron's tales of random gay sex romps. Me, I was nonplussed. Now, there was a woman with Ron. A woman named Stacey I believe. And Stacey was also loud. And also drunk. And also pissing off the reserved, upper-crust of Greensboro. I was not closely listening to everything these folks were saying. I was talking to my buddy Phil about whatever. All I knew was that this Ron, Stacey, and the 3 or 4 other folks from our party hanging with them, were loud, obnoxious, and irritating folks not in our party. At one point I looked down the way to this crew and then I saw something that made the night memorable. Stacey was flashing her C cup tits right out on this swanky restaurant's patio for not only Ron, myself, and the other folks with our party to admire, but for a couple dozen of How Green Is My Valley's best customers to get a gander of as well (for what it's worth, this Stacey wasn't unattractive, and yes, she had a nice rack {I'm sure Geilfuss and Brandon were wondering about that...}). Well, as you can imagine, one patron went to complain to some manager. I happened to wander inside as this uptight broad was talking to the manager. And my favorite thing that this woman said, as she complained about the tit flashing and gay porn talk, was that she had never seen "people like that" in the How Green Is My Valley. I got a big bang out of that. I really did. Well, I went back out and informed the hostess of our little party what was about to go down. And everything was fine. Ron and Stacey agreed to take off from the party. No issue. The uptight woman and her cuckolded hubby left after a bit. About an hour passes. Everyone is simply getting drunker and drunker. I'm just dying to get the hell out of the place. Then, sure enough, Ron and Stacey come back. They didn't stay long. Ron was there just long enough to regale me with a story about being whipped in the ass by a dominatrix while being forced to perform fellatio on a straight guy. I mocked Ron. The last thing Ron did before leaving for good was proposition me for a good 10 minutes. Alas, that was a waste of the kid's time. Because, as all of you know, I don't get down like that. Old Ron was suggesting some things that I'm guessing would be very enticing for fellow practitioners of the anal arts. Eventually everyone took off. I was the only person, except the hostess's husband, who wasn't hammered. It was something.
The best line of the night of the party was not uttered by Ron, Stacey, or even yours truly. It was uttered by an old Boston Irish drunk named Jack. Now, the How Green Is My Valley Restaurant is swanky, as I mentioned. It's located inside the O Henry Hotel, which is also fairly swanky (it's 5 stars...). Anyway, Drunk Jack is evidently not accustomed to such nice surroundings. He kept commenting throughout the night about how impressed he was with everything. I mean he was really going on about the place. At one point towards the end of the party Drunk Jack described the restaurant, hotel, food, quality of wine, and the general ambiance of the stupid party like this: "This reminds me of modern day Ancient Rome." I fell over laughing and told Phil, "That's a blog post title right there."
Well, it looks like the German dream of soccer domination has died. Viva La Espana!
I don't even know if Viva La Espana! is a thing. Is it???
I did see where my girl Lindsay Lohan is in a spot of trouble. I guess my only advice for Lindsay is just be patient and wait for The Tiger to call...
Fast off to heaven just like Moses on a motorbike
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