Plan B

When Paulie's gig was cancelled due to Chamber of Commerce-perfect weather, the Violent Farmer said that he still wanted to get together. I pondered our options and started to run out of ideas when it hit me: What do people from Hannibal, Troy, and any other small town in Missouri do when they are bored? Burn shit and drink beer! So it was decided- we would all sit around a campfire at my house and consume some frothy beverages. It wasn't the same as watching Paulie on stage, but it was pretty fun none the less. The Violent Farmer even serenaded us a couple of times as did Jagua Piru. And Jerry couldn't stop praising me for the wonderful fire that I made. A good time was had by all- country style.

I guess I finally ended up using something that I learned in high school. I'm sure my teachers would be proud.

Four Men- Eight Gallons of Beer

Since the theme of this Blog is inebriation, I thought I would share with you my plans for my last weekend before venturing back into the world of employment. I, along with my good friends Grant, John, and Bill, will be doing our best to drain an eight gallon keg this evening. Our wives will be allowed to babysit the children (and us) instead of being forced to consume said intoxicants. Bill and his wife Abby have a one year old baby boy, Grant and Brenda are expecting their first child in September, and of course Bethany and I have Alex. In a remarkable display of male chauvanist behavior, the men-folk will be drinking, playing shuffleboard, and telling old war stories while the moms coddle the children, roll their eyes at us, and make sure we pass out in the right beds. The festivities are set to begin at 2:oo this afternoon and will end when either the keg gives up the ghost or our wives serve us with divorce papers.

I will dedicate this weekend to Paul & the Violent Farmers. I'll even propose a toast in your honor for being the inspiration for so many of my drunken exploits. And no, Jagua, the keg will not be filled with tasty, dark beer. I will have to settle for that watery swill that you and I have taken up arms against. I shall not cease to battle it until every last drop is gone. You have my word.