Happy Hour

I like happy hour at bars full of slightly older women.  It’s like playing basketball with a bunch of 10 year olds on an 8 foot goal.  Like the way we used to play when we were 12 in the driveway for 6 hours straight, only breaking for a grilled cheesed lunch and maybe a 45 minute NBA Jam Tournement.  At night, we would play capture the flag across the street diagonally until 11 and then we would “camp out” slash terrorize the neighborhood – switching mailboxes and knocking over port-o-lets and ringing at least 3 doorbells and running like a bunch of madmen and like the time when my buddy treated the Potato Chip Man’s front door intercom like it was a McDonald’s drive through menu.  I think that was the time when the cops were called and we had to hide in a ditch almost a mile from my house and we sprinted from ditch to ditch as if we were in World War 1.  We eventually split up in pairs through flower beds and in between narrowly adjacent fences, past loud barking dogs until we ended up back where we started.  What a good day that was? 

Now, Thursday night, just past 9, I’m already looking forward to drinking 2 fers with a bunch of cougers.  Go figure.


1 Response to “Happy Hour”

  1. 1 cougarcruiser69
    October 26, 2010 at 2:24 pm

    hahaha i LOVE this!

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