Well, it’s time to show a few of the photos from my meeting with Sebastard. He gets to be a bit of an asshole after a few beer, and I guess I might get a little yappy as well, so our little get togethers sometimes end up in a bit of a set-to. This night was no different, but because we are grown men, we let bygones be bygones, and are quite amicable by morning. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, so I guess that this will be sufficient for today.
(Hmmmm, I wonder where my good friend is?)
(Do I have time to order pizza? I shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach)
(Nope, he should be walking through the door any minute)
(Hey, there he is!!!)
B – Good to see you old friend. How’s your hammer hanging? S – Long, loose, and full of juice
B – Can I offer you a beer? It’s been too long. S – Oh, I suppose. Hey, I got off on that paternity suit.
B – The baby wasn’t yours? Congratulations. Who’s DNA did you use? S – No seriously, she had unprotected sex with three men that night.
B – No condom, why would she let you? S – I told her I would pull out, and she fell for it. B – Haha, women are fools
S – Remember that time that you got your fat ass stuck in the honey tree
B – No, I remember when you got syphilis from that whore in Montreal though
S – Yeah, I never did like condoms. Hahaha
B – You must have been the one who knocked my sister up then. Har har
There was a bit of time when the photographer went
for a dump to powder her nose, that Sebastard started to become belligerent and unruly while trying to make me drink some French Cross wine. I flatly refused, because I hate wine with a passion, but he was constantly pushing and becoming more and more irate. I started mocking him, and saying “I don’t want any of your CROSS FRENCH wine.”
Then it started getting ugly.
B – Give me that bottle, I’m going to smash your teeth in with it.
B – Nevermind, I’ll use my beer bottle
S – Drink my wine, you filthy English bastard
B – Ouch, why is that glass so thick, and why is this chair stuck to my ass?
B – Jesus Frenchy, your feet are going to get cold with only those thin socks on
S – French Cross enema pour le monsieur?
Luckily at this point, the photographer stepped in and clouted the lumberjack on the noggin, and we decided to get some sleep.
(Fuck he loves his French Cross)
B – Seriously… You couldn’t drink your wine in a bag like all the mucky-mucks do?
S – Let’s have some coffee and not speak of last night ever again
B – I love being a man, because it allows me to not deal with my emotions. S – I know, being a dude is awesome
B – I can’t wait to hang out with you again. S – Me neither, you’re a great guy.
As you can see, some things get out of hand, but the best way to deal with things is to sweep them under the rug, and forgive each other.
Coulda been the whisky, might of been the gin,