Mrs. Red and I had our annual PARTY OF THE YEAR last week to celebrate
seeing your neighbors’ wives in low cut dresses Christmas and New Years. It had the usual – ridiculous amounts of booze, not one but two barbequed pork loins that were so good that if you ate any it would literally make your head explode, some nosey neighbor who wanted to know: how much the party cost, did I get any bonuses this year, and what was my adjusted gross income? Very few low cut dresses.
This year something weird happened. No, no Christmas flashing. People left about two or three ounces of booze in four or five f-ing bottles. Finish it! So we decided we should make a decent effort to polish those nearly dead soldiers off so I have more room on my bar for the booze nobody likes, like Disarrono and J&B.
Here’s what happens when you pull that shit:
Mrs. Red: Tomorrow we have to get ready for [something I forgot].
MR: Because we won’t be ready Monday if we don’t do it tomorrow.
R: But… You know tomorrow’s not Sunday right?
R: It’s not Saturday today.
MR: It’s Friday?
R: It’s Thursday.
MR: We’re going on the f-ing wagon next week.
The end! (Until tonight)