Marc

Jesse and his woman came up this past weekend. We ended up drinking quite a bit. Went to a place called Dick's Last Resort. The waiters/waitresses are supposed to be like faux-rude to the customers, but in reality they're more like sales(wo)men. At least our waiter was. Never go to a restaurant downtown and stick around to drink. It'll cost you an arm. Maybe not a leg, but at least an arm.

We had fun, though:


They make these funny hats for you, and they put them on your head when you aren't paying attention. This is Jesse's. A young girl had one that read, "Sometimes when I fart, a little poop comes out." Should've taken a picture.


Apparently, throwing napkins at people from other tables is alright. Some little kid kept hitting me in the back of the head. I retaliated often, and on unsuspecting newcomers. My arm's still sore.


These dudes had a half-full handle of Mad Dog 20/20 before Jesse went to the bathroom, but it was gone by the time he came back to our table. I look over and he's chugging these dudes Mad Dog. Mofo can drink, yo.