Over the weekend, I went to not one but two birthday parties. First up, Cliff (or "StarchBoy" as he was derisively called by my brother, because of his overly-starched collar shirt) girlfriend's 25th. Good time. Always thoroughly enjoy conversations with a drunk guy trying to rationalize getting a hooker. That's great fun. "No, seriously man, if its a threesome, right? And the dude's paying? Then she's not a hooker to you, cos you didn't pay! She's just a slut!"
My response?
"But then you're gay." (Because of the presence of the dude and all)
Just weirdness. I wish I hadn't told you that. But I did. Oh well.
I think I also saw Robert Goulet at the party, but I can't be sure...
"St. Louis is the greatest town in america. Goulet!"
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Other party was my buddy Continental's wife, who turned 30. Not much exciting to report from this one.
Other than the bottle-chucking contest me and Continental engaged in. Off the back of the deck, throwing empty beer bottles into the woods some 100 feet away.
You bet.
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