First off, never pay $10 for a single, when you can get a double for $14...and never hesitate to tip your bartender nicely, for sharing that info with you.
TWO double Hendrick's & Tonics...yes please...and thanks to Tamo Sein for my healthy addiction to Gin (I feel like a 70yr old when I drink around my Dad).
Get on the plane from LA to Vegas and sit next to a nice older lady; not Crypt Keeper, but not Jennifer Aniston. Take off, flying, yay; Tucker Max shenanigans, courtesy of Sloppy Seconds...download it now...I'll wait.
-BACK?-
"I'd hit him so hard, he'd have to walk toward the light to ask Jesus what just happened." <-- you're welcome
A few pages in come the obligatory, "Drinks sir?" with the rhetorical, "Jack & Coke," I say…"two, please." Flight attendant informs me that, due to the short flight, I can only be served one. So I turn and ask if I can buy the lovely lady sitting next to me a drink? Older lady, we'll name her Jackie, agrees and so does the FA, so we're golden.
Get on the plane from LA to Vegas and sit next to a nice older lady; not Crypt Keeper, but not Jennifer Aniston. Take off, flying, yay; Tucker Max shenanigans, courtesy of Sloppy Seconds...download it now...I'll wait.
-BACK?-
"I'd hit him so hard, he'd have to walk toward the light to ask Jesus what just happened." <-- you're welcome
A few pages in come the obligatory, "Drinks sir?" with the rhetorical, "Jack & Coke," I say…"two, please." Flight attendant informs me that, due to the short flight, I can only be served one. So I turn and ask if I can buy the lovely lady sitting next to me a drink? Older lady, we'll name her Jackie, agrees and so does the FA, so we're golden.
I get up to go piss, come back, get OUR drinks, and return to the iPad. What seemed like 2-4 sips in, the all too familiar -DING- comes, and hey, lookie there...we're now beginning our final descent. I look at to Jackie, who has been babysitting her drink the entire time (she knew her part in this), who says, "I can't chug like I used to," smiles, "welcome to Vegas," and hands the drink back.
So, I chug the two drinks (begrudgingly, mind you), turn to thank Jackie, who tells me that I drink like Jack Palance…?! I, randomly, say, "Yeah, well I fight like Jackson Pollock!" She smiles, and says "Probably."
So, I chug the two drinks (begrudgingly, mind you), turn to thank Jackie, who tells me that I drink like Jack Palance…?! I, randomly, say, "Yeah, well I fight like Jackson Pollock!" She smiles, and says "Probably."
So, today I ask, WHO THE FUCK is JACKSON POLLOCK!?! I mean, I know the name…he's a painter (Paint like Pollock, you're welcome), but was he a fighter? So I Wiki him up and find this little tidbit: "He had a volatile personality, and struggled with alcoholism for most of his life." Mr. Pollock was, most likely, a fighter. I relay the story to a friend, who emails back with:
"Another tidbit about Jackson:
He is a splatter painter. AND in pop culture if you “Jackson Pollock”, you have effectively blasted a load in some broads face. So, fighting like Jackson Pollock is fucking awesome.
You’re killing it."
2 comments:
Love it. But no comment about the scolding?
Meant to follow up with more...got kinda buried with the work! Miss you, and still so grateful.
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