Tag Archives: beer

Sorry, Keep the Champagne on Ice – Part 3

(Posted in Muddled Memories)

(Continued from Sorry, Keep the Champagne on Ice – Part 2)

Two buds, draft.  Want anything to eat? Nachos, Bruce.  Order of nachos and a hot dog, extra mustard.   That’ll be $20 even, sir.  Piston looked like someone took a broken bottle to his Charger’s tires.  $20!?  Filet mignon gettin’ sprinkled on them nachos?  His downtown Flint attitude took the cashier off guard.  He didn’t know what to say.  No, sorry, just cheese with the nachos.  Piston forked over the cash.  Decades later, he’s still in denial that beers aren’t a quarter anymore.  Why you gotta do that?  These prices are ridiculous.  It’s not like he sets the prices.  Come on, you know that McClaneEasy to say when it’s free, BlutoI stand corrected.  But, the wheels are in motion Butch.  I’ll be getting the next roundYou steal someone’s lunch money?  No, I convinced them to give it to me.  Give it a year, no more hand outs.  With a “I see your BS and raise you” grin, – Okay, Biff.  We grabbed our hillbilly supper and trotted off to see shit get smashed.

The pungent smell of gasoline and b.o. stampeded upon my senses as I walked through the grandstand.  I could taste the sewage excitement.  This is so American!  Piston agreed as he nudged his way through a group of Big Berthas sporting belly high Wranglers.  Damnit!  Aw, Shucks!  5 minutes into the event and Piston’s buzz was already killed.  One of the Bertha’s bumped into him and spilled beer on his sentimental Gorski Automotive shirt.  Forget the ol’ shirt, Piston is steamed about losing 50 cents worth of brew. The Gravedigger better revive the night, damnit.

At last, we reached our comfy hard plastic seats.  Time to enjoy the delightful combination of stale chippy’s and artificial cheese.  After checking my fingers for any remnants of left over cheese, I slipped on my trusty batter’s gloveWhat the hell are you doing?  Yes, I come prepared.  I don’t want to turn my hand into an icicle while enjoying my beverage.  After taking a couple sips, I realized that this was most likely perceived as a sign of a alcoholic or a resourceful idiot; with no in between.  My theory was reinforced when I caught Piston’s perplexed glare.  I quickly scanned my surroundings to find a counter.  Look, they’ve got the right idea.  A group of resourceful gents.  I yelled down to my fellow aristocrats.  Ehh!  They turned around.  With my free hand, I pointed to my boozin’ glove.  Get R Done!  We “air” cheers’d and let ’em rip.

Piston signaled near their seats.  I suppose your hand would get cold after 10 cups.  Chalk one up for us outside the box thinkers Piston.  I couldn’t help but think it was an omen or something; this was the perfect segue for bringing up my idea.  F’in alcoholics.  Did I just hear Ol’ Piston mumble F’in alcoholics?  What?  Huh, nothin’.  So much for the omen.  Better yet.  I signaled to the beer guy.  Two buds. 

Oh, good, I’m just about out.  Oh, you want one?  Damn, you should move down there with the Belushi brothers.  I had a long week.  I changed the order.  Make it 4.  Another perplexed glare was shot at my grill.  God gave you two hands for a reasonYeah, to build things, to fix things.  Not to shot put beer into your mouth.  I guess you used to street race for tea and jellybeans then.  Lighten up Stone Cold.  I handed the beer guy a $20 for the alottment.  That from the first national bank of Piston?  You referring to yourself in the 3rd person now?  I grabbed the other glove out of my pocket and tossed it onto Ol’ Piston’s lap.  He caved.  Alright.  He slipped on the glove and gripped one of the cups.  He held it up – To Motor City.

Part 4 will be served shortly . . .

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Toilet Alarm Clock – Part 1

(Posted in Muddled Memories)

(Continued from In Bloom)

I woke up to the glaring sunlight streaming through my window.  My head felt like it got into a fight with a brick wall, and lost.  As I was cringing to the repulsive taste in my mouth, I squinted and saw that the clock read 10 Am.  Aw, hell naw.  Way too early for a night dweller like myself.  I had made the rookie mistake of leaving my blinds open.  They must be closed, at once.  Like a wounded animal, I rolled out of bed and slowly made my way to the window.  From my back, I reached up and spun the blinds closed.  Laying there, catching my breath from all of the barrel rolls, I felt like I too could see Blue.  Contemplating whether or not to just set up camp there for awhile, the post it on the wall caught my attention.

It was funny to see how crappy my hand writing was after having a couple of beverages.  I was relieved that I did it, though, because I didn’t remember the observation I had made about the group of girls.  Yeah, pinning it to the wall was a little unnecessary, but . . . yeah.  Really have nothing else to add on there.  I really wanted to get some people’s opinion of my product idea.  But, my room had just turned into a dark cave.  So, that was gonna have to wait  for a couple hours.

Most people wake up to the birds chirping.  Not me.  I am awaken every afternoon by a much less delightful noise.  The wall in my room is connected to the bathroom and I am reminded of that with each blaring toilet flush.  It’s usually a series of 5 or 6 flushes because of the 12 pack and 4 chimichangas my roommate had the night before.  It gets even lovelier when he bangs on my door and proclaims “Put some wings on me, I can fly now that I’m so much lighter!”  I can’t believe that this is my alarm clock . . .

I usually would have told him to f off and went back to sleep.  Not today though.  “Come in here batman”.  He opens the door and attempts to jump on my face; ass first.  Fortunately, he misses and bounces onto the ground.  “Dude, listen to this.  I came up with a brilliant idea last night.”  “Doubt it“.  “Screw you, listen.”  I disclosed the privileged information to him.  “That’s stupid.  Drive me to Burger King“.  Are you serious, it’s a great idea.”  “Yeah, not really.  I’ll be waiting downstairs.

He’s a guy, he doesn’t understand that girls will like it.  I then decided to call a trusted adviser.  She’ll get it.  I told her about the product.  Not bad.”  “That’s all you got?”  “Well, it could work.  But, it takes a lot of money to start up a business.  And you’re broke.”  “Thanks for the positivity.  I’m going to get a prototype made.  You’re going to have to test it out for me.”  “We’ll see.”  I already knew from the little time I spent brainstorming about the idea that it was going to be a long process to get the product on the market.  But, I didn’t know it would be so difficult to get people to buy into the idea.  I knew it was a good idea and people would realize it; they just needed something tangible to look at.  I absolutely hate doing research but knew I had to find a manufacturer to make a sample.  This is going to suck . . .

Continue to Toilet Alarm Clock – Part 2 . . .

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I’m interested to hear from you about your college experience.  Did you also have hilarious roommates?

Post your responses here in the comments section, on twitter, on facebook, or within the MadCap facebook group!  Thanks, I look forward to discussing this with you!

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