Me, a 12-pack of Coors, a razor and a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide

Not that they know of. That's what counts.

 

Haven't you learned yet?

 

I'm pretty slow.

 

Reffing 8 games this afternoon. Will be home around 11 pm CST. A fresh 12-pack of Corona sitting in the ice-box.

Then.....drunk posting Chef will visit.

 

Is the corn gone too?

 

After midnight, we're gonna let it all hang down.
After midnight, we're gonna chug-a-lug and shout.
We're gonna stimulate some action;
We're gonna get some satisfaction.
We're gonna find out what it is all about.
After midnight, we're gonna let it all hang down.

 

There was smoke on the water
A little fire in the sky
If I hear that song one more time
I'll stick a fork right in my eye
Another round and a pickled egg
A truck pulled up with a 100 kegs
Just another Friday night
Fuck no, fuck no
It's chug-a-lug night
Here we go
Here we go
Chug-a-lug night
Kissin' girls you don't know
Here we go
Beer is in my hair
And vomits on my toes
Here we go
For no damn reason
I'm takin' off my clothes
Here we go
I walked to the bar
But now I'm driving...
I still believe in anarchy
Pardon me, sir, I have to pee
Passed out greaser on the floor
A beer fart on his pompadour
I'm quite happy almost gay
What the fuck did I just say?
Something new every night
Fuck no fuck no
It's chug-a-lug night

 

yes.

all gone.

 

This made me laugh very hard.

 

UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!

Reffed 8 games today (Mens league, full court, 5 on 5)

I make a step, and I feel something soft and wet in my shoe.

My pinky toe nail was apparently too long, and dug into the side of my corn toe.

Bleeding like a stuck hog.......I get home and show my wife, and she just starts laughing.

Anyhow, the corn-toe held up fine.

 

Why do I keep clicking on this thread?

By the way, Chef, when I was at the laundromat this afternoon, I thought of you. While I was tending to my delicates in the dryer, then watching Scrubs on my laptop, I ended up next to the dirtiest kid in my city. He was wearing a black snow hat, a white (I think) thermal and jeans. All of his clothes -- I imagine the black hat was -- were caked in dirt, and not the hard day's work dirt, either. I know, this probably seems like just another one of my boring stories with no point, but when he bumped into me at the folding table, I got a whiff of His Ripeness. He smelled just like, I imagine, your toe looks. It was a dreadful mess to the senses.

 

Someone give Mikey some Colt 45 to drown his sorrows into.