…U GOTZ TEH BOOZE?

Tip: Me, via I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER. Thanks for posting it!

[ Some useless asshat copied this image into his April Flickr photostream, and marked it Creative Commons/Derivative. License to use the derivative work has been granted by the original photographer, KC (again) / Angele. ]

     I was slow.  I just found this… but apparently it’s made its way around the ‘net before…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=acsz0o2jtzg

     The potential for something to go wrong here is astoundingly high, and yet… It kinda… *shakes head* Looks like… Fun… Why, the only thing missing here is the requisite case of Miller Lite…

     BUT …

     Can you say Darwin Award, boys and girls?

     I knew you could…

     According to the rules of “Pirate Chicks” (I don’t date and/or do Pirate Chicks) I stay in line.  Mind you, those were my own rules, if for nothing else than to cut down on drama.  I love those girls, and I’ll stand up for any one of them at any time for almost any reason.
     Some conditions do apply — they make their own rules, and can make their own mistakes, and take their own consequences.  But I’d like to think we all know each other well enough that no lines will ever be crossed.  We do what we need to do, and we respect each other enough to step on one anothers’ toes.
     I like that.  It’s friendship.  It’s what we do.
     My Pirate Chicks.
     Cuz I’m possesive like that, and hey, like the Pirate Princess said, I was Pirate enough to Hijack the booty …

We are Mark’s Pirates because he said we are.  He sought out the treasure in true Pirate form and laid claim to the booty.  (In a manner of speaking, of course.  LOL  We all know you don’t date Pirate Chicks, Mark.)   All treasure is not silver & gold, mate.  Some things are better and worth a whole lot more.

     But, there’s this guy, Marty Ray.  He’s the one who brought the whole “Pirate” thing together with an annual Pub Crawl, complete with a designated driver (on a bus, with lots of Jell-O Shooters).
     Thanks, Marty Ray.
     He’s real Karaoke Afficianado.
     It’s not your plain-jane, “Hey, we gonna sang some sheeyit!” Karaoke.  Instead, he plays “popular” music in between, and pretty much keeps the crowd entertained.
     Tonight, I went to one of his shows, propagated by the ass, errrrrrrr, girl, in my Flirting 101 blog… (Ed – Sam: Yeah, that deserves a slap.  Oh, Baby!)

      I had a good time, actually.  I didn’t expect that.

      When I got there tonight at 10PM, the place was a little empty.  A few college kids, not much going on in general.
     But by 11:30PM, there was a line out the door.
     You sit around, being “old,” and just kinda watch for a while.  You have a laugh at the guys “trying” to hit on girls and getting slapped in the face.  You have a laugh at the girls swaggering out the door (even though they’ve been drinking Coca Cola all night) with the object of their affection.
     You have a laugh, basically, at the whole, “Been there, done that, and you are certainly a dumbass!” of it all.
     But I found that every ten minutes or so, some hot young thing would come up and ask me, “What am I drinking?” and I’d tell her how, regardless of that fact that she hates gin, she’d enjoy a Gin & Tonic the way I make them.  I’d instruct the bartender, and she’d love it, and pretty much offer me anything I desired.
     Else, one of them would come up and rub my closely shaven head, and tell me how sexy I am.
     Or, one of them would come up and just ask me, straight out, “Are you going home alone tonight?”

      When you’re old enough to be their father, that kinda crap just seems … weird.  And that’s a good thing.
     Then again … It’s a serious ego-boost to know that I’m still sexy at my age.
       But all in all, it certainly feels good to hear all these young kids singing along to the songs you know.   It also feels good to know that they’re making some of the same dumbass mistakes you made when you were their age.

     For all the stupidity of the night, I had a damn good time.

     I even gained a little faith in the future.
     I mean, at least they’re not fighting each other like we did…
     Maybe they will be a better generation…

     Certainly, they know how to make an “old man” feel pretty damn good by asking him to take them home.

     Especially after they’ve been drinking Coca Cola all night.

     Last week I got the news that Opal’s Lounge, Knoxville’s best Dive, had sold out.  Swanky and I have frequented the place on off for many years now, having a beer, playing darts and talking to Opal, the owner.
     A few years ago, her grandson Robbie started helping her out, and the crowd changed a little — it became younger, and a lot more obnoxious than the older “neighborhood regulars” who usually frequented the place.
     Still, I could always go in before 7PM and sit and talk to Opal, smoke cigarettes and laugh.

     I told Swanky about it last week.  Today, he broke the story on his blog.  Since my name was on it, I couldn’t help but go and check it out…

     Today, it already felt like a different place. No Opal. No Robbie. Strange people, who I didn’t know, struggled with both the cash register and finding that elusive “Miller Lite.”
     The familiar painting — one her late husband had brought from Mexico — was no longer on the wall above the cash register, and several other items we’ve stared at over the years just weren’t there.  It all felt a little surreal, and I sat there wondering if Opal had taken her things, or if they’d shoved them in the storage room.

     Finally, I looked at the new bartenders, and asked, “I’m confused… where’s Opal?”
     “She sold out!” he said happily.
     He introduced himself, personable enough.  They’re friends of Robbie’s, and will be converting the bar into “D A’s Sports Bar” (I believe that’s what he said — was hard to hear over the TV & Jukebox). They told me that Opal did everything she could to help them get into the place.

     “Sold it to us two weeks ago,” he said. “But it was official … last week.”
     Strangely, last week was the first  heard about it … from one of my clients. Opal had called him a few minutes before I walked in the door.
     Given that, I’m kinda surprised she didn’t say anything when Swanky and I were there on her last Friday.  Like he says…

If you go by before 7PM these days, you can still hang out with Opal herself. She is a legend in Knoxville bars. She has been like a grandmother to me. One that smokes, drinks and cusses.

     Instead, she gave Swanky and I each a hug and a kiss, and said, “I love you boys!”

     That’s pretty damn special, coming from Opal.

     And after going there this afternoon, I miss her already.

     Here’s the obligatory holiday photo…

     I missed the Thanksgiving post because I was busy enjoying myself during what was certainly the event that I was most thankful for in 2006.  Miranda and I spent some good, quality time together discussing everything that went wrong during our marriage, and making our apologies where they were applicable.
     Sure, divorce is divorce, and it is the end, but it’s always better when you can part as friends.  And hey, everybody can use a few more friends.  With that, we have all the closure we need to go ahead and get on with our lives.
     So, Miranda, my friend, I hope all of you on your side of the world, and the rest, have wonderful and memorable Holidays. 🙂 *toasts*

     To my family, hey…  *toasts*

     To Mr. & Ms. Swanky, here’s to you guys.  You know why.  *toasts*

     To the Bloggers I’ve talked to, met, hung out with and e-mailed over the last year, kudos, and here’s to a great new year.  *toasts*

     To my customers & clients, we’ve had a good year through all our ups and downs.  I truly appreciate the business, loyalty and reciprocity we’ve all achieved this year.  *toasts*

     To my new neighbors, who’ve been great to hang out with and talk to the second half of the year. *toasts*

     To my friends, both new and old, thanks for the wild times and here’s to us making a few more. *toasts*

     To my Pirate Chicks (possessive little bastard I am), certainly, you girls have certainly made my year.  You’re every one individual and unique, some loud and some quiet, some bold and some shy, some aggressive and some passive, but I know damn well when the shit hits the fan, every damn one of you would be right there with me — and for any of you, I’d do the same.
     You’ve made the good times better, and the bad times bearable, if not hilarious.  *hugs* I love every damn one of ya.  *toasts*

     It just wouldn’t be like me to get all sappy and not leave something sarcastic.

     So, to all the ladies, a special gift, courtesy of NBC…