|By Verawench on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 06:17 pm: Edit|
Life isn't always easy for a Head.
|By Wolfgang on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 06:02 pm: Edit|
Would I be able to lure him in New York for the GT if I bring a bottle of Maple marvel ? I wonder if it would be more efficient than an hausgematche...
|By Head_Prosthesis on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 05:58 pm: Edit|
Lock up your maple slurple...
|By Wolfgang on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 05:41 pm: Edit|
Whouhou! The Head is back ! Now the forum can stop running in circle like a chicken without it`s head !
|By Louched_Liver on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 01:48 pm: Edit|
Shangy's IS beer heaven-1,700+ varieties in one spot.
Yuengling-America's oldest brewery, and damned good stuff.
Weyerbacher-The best mirobrewery in Pa, in my opion.
Wegman's-regional high end supermarket. The poussins we bought were fresh, not frozen, the rosemary/garlic bread was unreal and consumed w/gusto and haste. We could have bought some black truffles @ $300/lb., but decided to save our money for more beer.
Lehigh Valley International airport is like any little regional. Small and utilitarian. As Pantagruel pointed out, it's "international" because a flight or 2 go to Canada. Or maybe they just fly over Canada. Or maybe at 25,000' you can see Canada in the distance. Whatever. The flight was never announced as having landed, the monitors only showed that it was due minutes ago, not if it showed up.
My dumbass almost missed the Headster by waiting by the baggage carousel, then I relised he probably only had carry-on. Sure enough, there he was strolling out of the arrivals area as I rounded the corner.
By the way, nothing beats touring like an '84 LeBaron w/a busted turbo (0-60 in 2 townships), and AM only radio. Class baby, class!
1st time either of us had poussins, what a great name, and they were gamier than chickens that are all growed up. Turns out that when the parts you want to eat are perfectly done, the parts on the bottom you don't want are bloody. Our plates looked like an accident scene on the Chicken Highway.
We watched American Pimp to get us some pimpology. We both would like to earn out P.H.D.s-Pimps and Ho's Degrees. See what I'm sayin'?
I had to work at 6:30 the next day, And as it was approaching 1:30, we pulled the Famous Friendly Futon out of its hidey hole for Head, and so fucked off to bed.
|By Head_Prosthesis on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 12:41 pm: Edit|
Marc, Hello, my gajoobi playmate.
|By Louched_Liver on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 06:39 am: Edit|
Did Head mention we drank some beer?
|By Marccampbell on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 01:32 am: Edit|
welcome back scumbag.
|By Head_Prosthesis on Sunday, March 17, 2002 - 06:55 pm: Edit|
First off, Northwest sucks a camels ass, dick and ballsack. The only good thing about flying NW was being able to spend a few more hours drinking alcohol with Louchington. Oh yeah, and staring down the shirt, at the fine black hairs, on the back of a 15 year old Naive American (I mean Native) girls neck, while we were being rescheduled. MMMMM!!! Smell the earthy freshness.
Departure from Detroit afforded me a vigorous frisking by a feisty young Pakistani security guard. My only complaint was that his hands were to small and feminine to really loosen up my tight aching muscles. Unlike the gnarly old Uncle Joe in Allentown who showed me where it really hurts. While boarding, they instituted a couple of random
“let’s play spread’em” checks for the amusement of the lined up, lethargic customers.
The two lucky strikes that got the cold shocking truth, revealed to them by Dr. Jelly Finger and Ms. Mammymoo, were a couple of white guys in their late 50’s, early 60’s. Contestant number two was very giddy, tickled and amiable about the whole thing. He got away with no complaints. Contestant number one was a cranky, beer bellied, plaid shirted, pocket protected, Russ Meyer looking rogue (Like me dear departed father come to think of it). Everything in his brief case was inside of a plastic sandwich bag. NOE SCHITT!!! Really! Ms. Mammymoo pulled out something shiney and brass and says “What’s this?” It was a bullet keychain. She told him he couldn’t take it on and he started grabbing at it.
Why security didn’t drop him right there is beyond me.
Anyhow, she pulled it back and told him to settle down and stop acting like a child. Russ realized his error and quickly retreated. I smiled and stuck my tongue out at him as I walked by.
On the plane those fuckers stiffed me on that goddamn, Christ almighty, kosher meal. I was looking forward to it too.
LiverSNAP! Met me at the airport, as we left he gave me the low down on Billy Joel.
BILLY JOEL IS A POSER!!! Little punk ass.
Anyway, we went to beer heaven. Shangy’s. They got more beer than a frog gots warts.
We got the “Lager” (Yuengling, go look it up) and a mixed pack of Weyerbachers.
I’ll be damned if some pastey light weight was carrying out a case of Coor’s Light!
“That better be for your Sorority sisters, fella!”
Then we went to food heaven. Wegman’s got Meijer beat hands fucking down!!! We bought them little chickens. Not Cornish hens, I mean little chickens! Louchenail and I ate some tiny yardbird that night. Just like in Eraserhead they bled and squirted at us while we was cuttin’em up. We had some bad ass potaytah’s too and drank a bunch of beer.
We were supposed to see Shane Shite that night. But in true style he never showed. FER FEK’S SAKE!!!
We drank and drank and drank and watched American Pimp and the Osbournes and we drank and we drank. Whew… we drank. Things go to blurr and slurr and I’ll tell you more some time later.
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