internal links:
categories:
search blog:
archives:
| S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| « Feb | Apr » | |||||
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ||
| 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |
| 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 |
| 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
| 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | ||
- October 2008
- September 2008
- August 2008
- July 2008
- June 2008
- May 2008
- April 2008
- March 2008
- February 2008
- January 2008
- December 2007
- November 2007
- October 2007
- September 2007
- August 2007
- July 2007
- June 2007
- May 2007
- April 2007
- March 2007
- February 2007
- January 2007
- December 2006
- November 2006
- October 2006
- September 2006
- August 2006
- July 2006
- June 2006
- May 2006
- April 2006
- March 2006
- February 2006
- January 2006
- December 2005
- November 2005
- October 2005
- September 2005
- August 2005
- July 2005
- June 2005
- May 2005
- April 2005
- March 2005
- February 2005
- January 2005
- December 2004
March 21st, 2005 at 9:16 am
Stein-top-ectimy
March 26th, 2005 at 8:47 am
It’s a damn good thing he noticed, before he brought the broken glass to his lips.
Back in the Navy phase of my wasted youth, on a stop in the Philippines, a bunch of us were drinking in a bar, when one of the senior petty officers in the division happened to stop in the same bar. He was drunk (and a smartass, to boot), and started giving us shit about the fact that we were actually using bottle openers on the bottles of San Miguel we were drinking. He claimed that, if we were real men, we would break the necks of the bottles on the edge of the table, and drink it straight from the broken bottle.
Suuuuurrrre thing, Boats.
Of course, he showed up for muster the next morning with a big cut on his lip.