It’s a holiday week. I’m willing to bet none of you jerks are even ready to read anything since you’re checked out of work and thinking about the big ass turkey you’ll be carving into on Thanksgiving. So, given the circumstances, I’m going to keep it brief and remind everyone that tonight, the night before Thanksgiving, is the BIGGEST BAR NIGHT OF THE YEAR.
For years, my hometown clan and I have gone out big for what we affectionately call, “Blackout Wednesday.” We took it upon ourselves to drink as hard as possible and see who was too fucked up the next day to even eat their coveted turkey and mashed potatoes. One VERY special year, I was living with two fine young gentlemen and we planned on going out like rock stars and making Blackout Wednesday our bitch. As fate would have it, all three of us came home with a lady. All. Three. Struck. Out.
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I can’t speak for my comrades, but I woke up on the floor outside the bathroom with my shirt soaking wet. To get over it, I went to my family’s house and ate food until I was bloated. That might even have been the one year I participated in Black Friday. Who knows. The years blend together. The moral of the story is go party with the ones you love, then eat with the ones you love. Fuck shopping.
