A Weekend in TAFKAS: Part Deux
Too bad Jason can't take a picture where we're all in the center... ;o) Kidding, Jason! Love you!
Next is one of my favorite pictures of Sack and Phildo (or Phil the Rock Man, or that one guy the Canadian police are after for giving them fake doughnuts) lookin' sly, and MAUD!
I'm fairly certain Maud did more mean renditions of the quail T.C.'s call and added in some "wing-like" arm movements. But I was thinking to myself again, "Self, do quail even fly?" I'm not quite sure. I probably don't know because I really don't care. All I know is they smell worse than anything I think my olfactory glands have ever had the displeasure of encountering, and it's really funny when Donica makes them (dead ones, of course) dance at Le Bistro. Sorry, I got a little off subject there... How about another pic?
I had two options on what to write about for Saturday night's blog and they are as follows:
A., #1) Include all of the sordid details such as the 112-minute bet Sack and I had, the ultimatum Maud gave Jason, skirts being lifted, etc.
B., #2) Keep it mysterious, leaving outsiders to wonder and lose sleep because they're so curious about what really went on...
I choose option B. Here's another pic...
I would like to mention that we have officially (maybe) banned the Doubletree from our downtown hotel repertoire because the bulldykes at the front desk hate us and didn't give us a cookie when we checked in. It's all about the cookie. I mean, they may as well have slapped us in the face. Then we get security called on us when we weren't even loud (and by "we" I mean everyone but Maud). It's all good, though. I poured some Miller High Life out of a 40 oz. onto the carpet in front of our room. Take that, Doubletree bulldykes.
Here's another pic of me and some guy that got dropped off by a short bus. He'd been wearing a helmet until moments before this picture was taken and was rambling on and on about the patio at Maloney's being a hockey rink...
I may look calm and collected, but I was sort of scared that he was going to bite me. And he smelled like a crocodile.
Well, perhaps one of these days we can get the rest of the pics up. Next weekend I look forward to entertaining Eve and Allison in the illustrious village known as Ruidoso... you can count on pictures from that. Probably of Allison grabbing our boobs! But she's not gay, though.
Oh, and let us not forget that Eve, Jason, Maud and I saw Freddie Prinze Jr. at Frontier. Well, I don't know if they saw him, but I did. Probably he goes there for the outstanding breakfast burrito and the orange juice, which I am quite certain is a version of ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. And we also got a lesson from Sack about what "dogs in a bathtub" meant. Thanks for being the live version of urbandictionary.com.