Puncture Wound
One thing about a puncture wound is that it always sneaks up on you. The other thing is it always, always hurts much worse than it ever should for being such a little thing. By definition, a puncture wound is normally small, since it was caused by something that has to travel deep in to the skin. Stay with me here...
This morning, I was digging around in the upper pocket of my backpack, and WHAM! Puncture wound! Caused by some extra-long cubicle wall push pins I had carefully stored, pointing outward. This little bastard lodged itself under my thumbnail and comically began squirting blood out. Why would I have metal pins stuck in a pocket where I often rifle around for spare change? I'm drunk, that's why.
It being Tuesday means that the weekend is fast approaching. This weekend has a yearly significance of being my annual release from rational thought and bleak soberness. It's Portland Summer Brewfest weekend. Friday evening, from 4:30 to 9:00, it's volunteer time to pour to drunk-asses. This builds Brewfest karma and leads you and friends towards drunken paradise on Saturday. Beginning at noon and lasting until they throw you out (around 9pm), the boozing on Brewfest Saturday is a sight to behold. Last year, we dabbled in playing poker for chips at a tent table. Gratuitous poker will be played this year, to be sure. Got that? Drinking & poker & friends. I'm going to miss it all.
My brother's ass-handed friend, Brian, has decided to put my brother's bachelor party on this upcoming weekend. It's not being held in or around Portland either. No strip bars, no dive bars... in fact, no bars at all. It's being held in the forested land of Central Oregon; many miles from any pub. There will, however, be a keg and camping. I'll make damn sure there's a big-ass fire too. I suppose some amount of general drunken debauchery will arise from that. I'll introduce this Brian fella to a little game of "hot can".
After much coin flipping and bitching, I have decided I should probably attend the bachelor party instead of going to Brewfest weekend. The streak has been broken. Bill, please continue to carry that torch. I'll see you there next year.
This morning, I was digging around in the upper pocket of my backpack, and WHAM! Puncture wound! Caused by some extra-long cubicle wall push pins I had carefully stored, pointing outward. This little bastard lodged itself under my thumbnail and comically began squirting blood out. Why would I have metal pins stuck in a pocket where I often rifle around for spare change? I'm drunk, that's why.
It being Tuesday means that the weekend is fast approaching. This weekend has a yearly significance of being my annual release from rational thought and bleak soberness. It's Portland Summer Brewfest weekend. Friday evening, from 4:30 to 9:00, it's volunteer time to pour to drunk-asses. This builds Brewfest karma and leads you and friends towards drunken paradise on Saturday. Beginning at noon and lasting until they throw you out (around 9pm), the boozing on Brewfest Saturday is a sight to behold. Last year, we dabbled in playing poker for chips at a tent table. Gratuitous poker will be played this year, to be sure. Got that? Drinking & poker & friends. I'm going to miss it all.
My brother's ass-handed friend, Brian, has decided to put my brother's bachelor party on this upcoming weekend. It's not being held in or around Portland either. No strip bars, no dive bars... in fact, no bars at all. It's being held in the forested land of Central Oregon; many miles from any pub. There will, however, be a keg and camping. I'll make damn sure there's a big-ass fire too. I suppose some amount of general drunken debauchery will arise from that. I'll introduce this Brian fella to a little game of "hot can".
After much coin flipping and bitching, I have decided I should probably attend the bachelor party instead of going to Brewfest weekend. The streak has been broken. Bill, please continue to carry that torch. I'll see you there next year.
2 Comments:
At 12:54 PM,
fufats said…
The torch will be carried.
BTW - did you hear that it's gonna hit 99 degrees on Saturday? It's not too late to convince your brother and crew that unless they cool off under a nice open air tent (like the kind they have at beer fest), there's a very real chance of contracting Down's Syndrome via heat stroke.
At 2:59 PM,
tony said…
What I wouldn't give for the chance to go to the brewfest again. Sweet baby jesus, that was fun.
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