A Word From Our Sponsor
Not as an official sponser of the Brian Coltrane blog, but as the source of inspiration for tonight’s content. Yep, yer in for another humdinger of a blog post, fit to rival any previous uncouth entry you’ve had the misfortune to fall upon.
This weekend I was at a few shindigs where beer was served in careful moderation to attendees who were imbibing in occassional and measured amounts. At one such function, being a county fair where a Styx/Boston doubleheader concert was playing, I had the opportunity to observe the behavior of those who’d enjoyed a libation or two.
Here’s an overheard conversation, between two event patrons who were standing behind me and a friend, while we were all in line to make use of what I’ll euphamistically call a sanitary facility:
“@#$%, man, I hate these damn porta-johns.”
“I don’t care. I’ve had it tied in a knot for an hour. I gotta go bad.”
“Is this line even moving?”
“It’s worse than the beer line. I stood in line twenty minutes for a @#$%ing beer and now I’m in a @#$%&* line for the outhouse.”
“That’s why I get my beer, and drink it while I’m in line for the john. By the time I’m done with the beer I have to go and I’m right here.”
“Yeah, but I wanna see Boston tonight, not stand in lines all @#$%^& night.”
“You can hear ‘em fine from here. Some bands sound better from a distance.”
“Styx was good.”
“I heard ‘em, yeah, but @#$% I couldn’t get anywhere near the stage. It’s @#$%in’ insane tonight.”
“What’s insane is this @#$%&* line for the john. I’m gonna piss in my beer cup.”
“Dude. A buddy of mine did that once, forgot he did it, then drank it!”
“Damn, that’s sick! Why the hell did he carry it around?”
“I dunno, like I said he forgot he did it.”
“He must have been @#$%ed up.”
“He was, man, he was lit ! I laughed my ass off, I said, “Mike! Does your beer taste flat and really warm? He looks at me, he can’t figure it out for a minute and then he turned around and tried to spit out his tongue, it was #$%ing crazy.”
“Don’t make me laugh, I really gotta go! Lemme cut in front of you.”
“No way, man.”
“I’ll buy you a beer.”
“No.”
“You suck.”
“You can wait your turn, @#$%^&*.”
“Two beers. I’ll buy you two.”
“Ok, but you’d better be outta there in thirty seconds.”
“No problem!”
The immoral of this story is, Miller Lite may taste great, but it isn’t really less filling, when you get down to cases.
