March 05, 2006

• We laugh because it hurts deep deep inside.
• Wait until he finds out how much having a kid costs.
• He's like me accosting endless gamenes on Myspace, but less rude.
• Weeeell, I think I would have reacted the same as this girl too. I mean - she went out for a few drinks with friends, maybe listen to a bit of the ol' jazz - and then this freak in trackie dacks and a trench coat (with beef jerky) accosts her and wants to give her money for a drink? It's just not cool. He insulted her choices - like who cares if a g&t is 5 bucks when you are having fun and listening to some good grooves? No sensible girl would have found his complaining endearing.
• Oh, you hateful haters with your goddam hate. Personally, I wish this a fictional charater loosely based on the actual author all the best that the next chapter can bring.
• He's absolutely right about the cost of the drinks, though.
• ok: so here's my theory. astroboy is quid's sockpuppet account and this is one of those hideously disrespectful-to-the-community SELF-LINKS to the story of quid's pathetic attempt to find more corpse-buggerers. I say: BANHAMMER!
• is quid in reality the Slim Jim Kid?
• I'd have made change for him.
• What, you didn't like my little attempt at re-kindling that possible flame with that someone in a bar somewhere on Queen Anne that may remain nameless unless she responds, in which case she might possibly (if she plays her cards right, and buys me many gin and tonics, become ms. mk1gti?) Jus' kiddin'.
• "...we will soon be making hot monkey love back at my apartment" Well, so much for trying to conceal his identity; which MoFi member was the one that posted that? And yes, most bars' prices are pure extortion. But they usually aren't selling some alcohol and sugary water, they sell ambience and the access to a suitable mob of sexual social interaction candidates. If you can't afford a $5 drink, there are other alternative venues for seeking companionship, I guess...
• $5? Heh. Try $13.50 for a vodka and tonic in the third floor hotel bar in the Venetian in Vegas. If I hadn't been on an expense account, I would have been outraged. And it's not like it was Grey Goose or some baroque micro-distill from Upper Wallachia or something - regular old Absolut!
• Your work PAID you to go the the Venetian? *Quickly assembles Fes disguise (Which isn't easy 'cuz he's such a snappy dresser) and heads out to steal his identity*
• It's far less glamorous than it sounds, I assure you. Four words: surrounded by insurance agents.
• $5? That's about £2.80. Get over it tightwad, that's not much more than a pint of Stella in my local, and I'm sure they'd charge that if wanky jazz (that's jAzz) was thrown in too. Can I buy anyone a drink?
• surrounded by insurance agents The horror! The horror!
• Yeah cheers pint o'Stella and some pig snacks please
• Mmm - Hog Lumps.
• WITH HAIR
• Fes Disguise. Only $42! Use it only for good, people - never for evil.
• Better Fes disguise.
• £7.50 (US$13.15) for a drink at the place I went to on Sat, and that wasn't even a particularly special place. It was in Islington, though. Why do we put up with this!?
• Well I paid A MILLYUN BILLYUN KAZILLYUN dollars for three drops of pee-pee and my Dad is infinity plus one years old so NYAAH.
• Now at my local hole (or one of them, anyway), drinks are $2.50. Canadian. Three buck cover, but still. For fifteen bucks (again, Canadian), you can have a fairly sloppy fun evening. Mind you, as a result, girls aren't too impressed by you buying them a drink, because they know it cost you mere change. At worst, it put you out a load of laundry. Plus there's that whole me-being-pissed-to-the-gills thing. That hasn't gone over so well. But when someone's price list becomes my enabler, the results are inevitable.
• I could have stayed in the Venetian forever...*sigh*
• Can I buy anyone a drink? Guinness, please, but hold the jazz.
• Mmm..so that's 2 pints of Stella, a Guinness and a bag of hog lumps with hair. Ok. Save my seat for me...
• Oh, lucky green sweatpants. What's your Counterstrike decal? I will say, though, that bathroom attendants are fucking bullshit. No, I don't need someone to fucking turn on the taps and put soap in my hands for me, you dipshit. Do I look like a four-year-old to you?
• Bathroom attendants are the last vestiges of a culture that prized class distinction and service. Say what you will about the former, the latter is a legacy of the days where it was typical for a gentleman to have a valet. It's not about you being incapable, it's about you being of a certain station, and a person providing specific services to a gentlemen of that station. Nowadays, the only places that I've seen bathroom attendants are on the concierge floor of decent hotels and at, oddly enough, high end strip clubs.
• This, historically, was far more prevalent in England. Where race is more of a cultural affector in America, class distinction has historically held similar sway in England (and, one presumes, the continent, although I could be off about that). I personally think it is an aristocratic legacy, something we really never had in America.
• *snorts contemptably* So you may believe. I say fellows, anyone up for a game of tennis? *insider trades* *frets about Mummy*
• Shouldn't have dug up that tomb then petebest.
• That right there is why we decided to leave merry England, Lord Buttholeington.
• Ever heard of the Golgafrinchan B Ark?