This year, my Jesus year, I celebrated the resurrection of the Big JC like an Irish Catholic who gave up drinking for Lent (which I did not). Went on an Easter Pub Crawl. The original idea was to hit the fine pubs of the Inman Square region of Cambridge in order – Thirsty Scholar, The Abbey Lounge, The Druid, Bukowski’s. But, as is the case with many pub crawls, we got a little off track. For instance, the Abbey was closed (!?!??!?!?!), so we drank a beer in the park across the street instead. Or another example would be after we had a few beers at the Druid, and we drove to Cape Cod instead of going next door to Bukowski’s. Yes, the pub crawl is an organic thing. You’ve got to be flexible. But for you non-eastern-massers, the Cape is over an hour away. Ridiculous. But god forbid we be called pusillanimous, so we went for it. Several hours, much fun, many pitchers of mudslides, and consecutive viewings of High Fidelity later, we were floating in a hot tub with a giant bowl of french fries. Needless to say, yesterday wasn’t very productive. Good times though. That one was for you Father Murphy!On a related note, The Easter Bunny Hates You.
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8 comments:
**makes cryptic hand gesture**
think you might need two hands for that one...
As an added treat for those readers who actually read the comments section of VTK posts (aka VTK VIPs), here's a little funny story about Father Murphy. Well, actually it's about me and Mr. Murphy, which was my first grade teacher's name before he abandoned the chalkboard for the Cloth.
Mr. Murphy was reading a story in class and I had to pee but didn't want to raise my hand and interrupt and miss storytime. So, I wriggled around in my seat to keep myself from peeing. Somehow, I managed to get my feet and legs between the two bars that hold the seat back to the bottom. Before I knew it I had managed to squeeze my waist all the way through there too. Impressive, I know. Unfortunately, that's as far as I could go so I put it in reverse and tried to get back up to my normal position on the chair. This is where the problem started. While I was able to get my waist through on the way down, I was unable to get it through on the way back up. Now, not only did I have to pee but I was stuck in a chair. And I wasn't able to quietly get Mr. Murphy's attention because my head could not reach above the desk. Fortunately, Laura Wiedenauer started laughing hysterically and alerted Mr. Murphy and the rest of the class to my plight. After some unsuccessful attempts to handle the situation in the classroom, Mr. Murphy decided that we needed to get the janitor involved, so he walked me down the hall - chair around my midsection - past the third graders who found it quite amusing, and into the dungeon-like boiler room, where the janitor used a blow torch to remove the chair from my waist.
I can't remember if that made me pee my pants, but I have to think that it did. It must have, right?
Another bonus treat for you diligent readers: we were listening to Uncle Tupelo on the ride back from Easter Capestravaganza and after hearing a cover of "I Wanna Be Your Dog" by the Stooges, we heard another song which I was sure was a cover but I couldn't place it. So I just googled some of the lyrics that were sticking in my head and I guess the reason I couldn't place it is that it's a "traditional" or folk song, which don't really have an agreed upon origin. The name of the song is Moonshiner, and other than UT, it has been performed by the Clancy Brothers (a Nolan household favorite), Bob Dylan. However, the version of the song that I was thinking of was by none other than Cat Power (which was recorded after the UT version).
But how were the double fistings?
Mudslide in one, High Life in the other. I'd say it was pretty damn good.
(that is what you're talking about -- right?)
in the interest of giving a fair and balanced representation of the evening, i must remind you about the bottle of wild turkey on the table in addition to the drinks in either hand.
wildly impressed that you had to get blowtorched out of a chair.
gobble gobble. If we're going for full disclosure, might as well mention the bottle of Canadian Club that preceded the Wild Turkey.
The blowtorch to the midsection incident happened in the same year that I hit myself in the eye with a car antenna and had to wear a patch for a month. Good year.
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