Some time ago, I woke up early and headed over to Steinbeck’s with recurring Propeller Skies characters Chesty McNasterson and Greta Von Dom. I think Steinbeck’s was having some kind of oyster festival. I am generally opposed to such gatherings, because eating oysters requires effort on my part. However, they also serve beer, so I agreed to go along for the ride.

Beer was served up outside by two hotties. I drank enough beer to later get shot down by one of the aforementioned beer wenchs*.

Fire Franchione already. Gary Arnell’s (lack of) defense collapsed and the Cornhuskers scored the game winner. Gary Arnell is an embarrassment to the state of Texas. Governor Rick Perry should execute that punk ass motherfucker as a public service.

After the game was over, I ran into an old acquaintance, The Tree Hugging Hippie Prius Driver. She was hanging with a bunch of hotties, so I strolled over and started chatting with her. While I was busy chatting up one of The Tree Hugging Hippie Prius Driver’s fine friends, a smokin’ blonde joined the group. A few synapses fired, despite my best efforts to drown them all, and I asked her, “are you interested in Mr. Fangs?”

“Why, do you throw up the pieces?”

“No, I take the photographs. Do you have a Myspace page?”

“Yes”

“Are you Samantha?”

“Yes, you recognized me from my picture?”

“Yes.”

Samantha is even more fly in person than in her photograph**. We have quite a bit in common***, so I considered asking for her number, but I am just not bad ass enough to satisfy her. For example, I would never snort blow on I-85 while driving her to dinner.

notes:

* Who I later found slinging PBR behind the bar at Moe’s and Joe’s at the beginning of an over-organized pub crawl I bailed on. The wankers running it had name tags made up. What the fuck kind of pub crawl requires name tags? A lame motherfucking pub crawl, that’s what kind.
** But only because I didn’t take it.
*** We both attended the Black Keys concert and enjoy Terrapin Rye Pale Ale.