I was walking down the street outside of work. Five guys are coming down the street towards me, I am marveling at how their attire looks to be of the thrift shop variety. It is 11:35 AM. One of them says in a thick Irish accent, "is there a bar down there?" I said, "what?" He says, " a bar, to drink." Except it sounds like "a baaaarghhhhhhh to drinkda." I said, "oh yeah, down there right by where they are doing construction." He doesn't say thank you or anything. The group moves off.
Kind of makes me not feel so bad that I sent them to a gay bar.
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1 comment:
Fricken Micks
but seriously....
should have sent them to the Main Sreet bar and Grill, so you could see them get stabbed latter.
Then you could ask the survivors to join you in a rousing chorus of "Crimson and Clover" while their drunk Irish buddy bleeds out on the only 4 square inches of grass left on Pok, because it just feels apropriate.
But I digress
often
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