The Swedish Chef and my precious…

So, I’ve come to terms with my bum memory and realized that now I have this blog and want to remember all the good parts of nights out drinking. So! With this here new fangled spaceship phone I got I use that good ol’ notes app and jot down the spark notes version so I can not only reminisce and share, but also incase shit gets crazy and I need to know things.

Anywho! We went on an adventure to DTA, Down Town Annapolis for all you non Maryland folks. Greenbeans, Roomsies!, a friend from CT – Peechew, and myself. We met up with my friend Tony, who is an excellent tour guide of the Annapolis night life. At the last bar of the evening we met a lady of questionable character. She said she was a dancer, I think she was just drunk. As per usual Greenbeans turns straight when he drinks and for the not first time I had to pull him away and yell ‘down boy!’ During all this “dancing” that was happening Smeagul, that’s what we’re calling this lady now because of the way she reacted in this next instance. In the middle of the dance floor she spied with her little eye a shiney new penny on the ground. She stops her whole life in its tracks, picks that sparkley son of a bitch from the floor, and raises it into the light and admires it for all its glory. Much like Smeagul when he chokes out Deagul when they find ‘The Ring’ in the lake they’re a fishin’ in. At this point in the night I knew that I just couldn’t even…

Next on my note pad were the words, ‘Greenbeans talks like the Swedish Chef when he’s drunk’. Now, the good engrish isn’t Greenbeans strong point in general but when you give an Asian the Devil’s juice don’t expect him to be spouting Shakespeare…or at least don’t expect anything coherent. Granted, if you give anyone enough of that Lucky No. 7 they won’t be spouting anything coherent, but it’s so much more drastic with Greenbeans. And there you are, in the car trying to figure out what hinger dinger durgon is supposed to mean.

Thirdly! We went to Taco Bell for some late night nomage and those dirty bastards were out of Baja blast…. Who the balls does that! The only place with it readily available is The Bell. Almost ruined my whole night that did, but then I ate my chalupa and some of Greenbeans Cinnabon things and went on my marry way to nap town.

Thusly, my night had ended, some two hours before this in actuality, but for realsies because thats when I left Nap Town.

We, everyone previously mentioned, minus Smeagul, plus Kimmy, went to the diner for breakfast. They have their own little news paper thing going on and upon reading the horoscope I learned that, as a Leo, I need to be more open as it’ll benefit my creativity or some shit. That’s basicay what it said, I think. This I was told after we just had a conversation in a crowded diner in a not so quiet way about recent poops and the alcohol poops we had after a night of drinking, and about 3rd degree burns on your cooch. Not from personal experience I assure you, but theoretical happenings that involved a scenario that was relateble to getting your tongue stuck to a frozen pole in winter.

But more importantly, I found my spirit animal in the little old lady in a wheelchair sitting adjacent to me. At one point she let out the most magnificent belch that I’ve ever heard escape from such a saint. My favorite part is when she, in all her glory, owned that shit with the conviction only my spirit animal could have.

So all-n-all a good time…

Making friends with the locals…

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