Not a whole lot to report today, but I’ll see what I can do to make this interesting.
This Sunday is Soup Sunday at the FedExForum. It’s a fundraiser for Youth Villages. For those who haven’t been before, here’s the deal: You get to walk around and sample soups from about 70 local restaurants. It’s a great event but I’ll say what I say every year: If you’re going to go, GET THERE EARLY. The event runs from 11 to 2 and I suggest that you be at the door at 11 sharp. If you get there late you’ll have to stand in long lines and some of the restaurants will have run out of soups.
I won’t be able to make it to Soup Sunday this year because I have to be at church at 11. Well, not church actually, but a bar. It will be week 2 for McGuinness in the 2-week brunch rotation. You know where we’ll be afterward.
Speaking of church, we have now entered the time period known as Lent, when you’re supposed to give something up. Otto: “I’m giving up sobriety for Lent.”
And now it’s time for the review of last night’s episode of “Paul gets drunk at the Saucer.” We’ll start with the beer summary:
Previous total: $38.00
Bud Light bottle in honor of John D $3.25
Shiner Bock (Fire Sale) $2.75
Flying Horse $10.00
Tip: $16 x ~30% = $5
Grand total: $59.00
Other stuff that happened: I un-retired from darts, and vowed to retire again when I lost a game. Thanks to a good partner I’m still un-retired after 4 games.
Air Traffic Mike bought me a car bomb. He came in carrying food, and a waitress immediately came running over looking for a handout. It reminded me of when I was a kid, when the cat would come running to the kitchen whenever she heard the electric can opener.
Oh and later in the evening I got to second base with the aforementioned waitress. She and I have this thing where we punch each other on the arm. Obviously I don’t punch her hard, since she’s a girl. So last night I was listening to the band, and she walked by and I attempted to punch her on the arm and missed, and accidentally punched her boob. She thought it was hilarious. Hope I didn’t ruin her dream – she probably envisioned it happening with soft music in the background and candlelight and champagne. But hey, that’s how I roll.
The Flying Horse bottle was an Indian beer and it was huge. I drank it out of the bottle as if it were a 40. I commented to a few people that if there were a Raiford’s in India, they’d sell Flying Horse.
“It’s an Indian beer?” someone asked. “Do you mean it’s brewed by Native Americans, or is it from India the country?”
“Indian as in, the ethnicity of most of your classmates if you take a computer programming class,” I replied.
The Friday night episode of “Paul gets drunk at the Saucer” looks to be a good one. This time there may be pictures.
Time to head back to the world of C# and XML files and compiler errors.