So, I left you poor, fun-loving readers out in cyberspace floating around without any direction. Well your humble destination has finally come, folks.
Just a seventh of my week is spent in a simple, yet brilliant fashion playing the age old game of dominoes, also known as bones (more specifically, ivory). My pieces are just imitation bone, but they fulfill their purposes well enough. In fact I might have broken 'em by now if they weren't synthetic material (cameramen have captured me banging the Crown Royal sack of 'noes against the table like a primitive ape playing with a pouch o bones). Anyway, that explains the bonez part, the bottles, brewz, booze, beerz, is what makes da dominoez that much betta. What started out as a casual vapor lounge activity escalated to me having a few beers (in cans), to duecers (22oz-erz, for you n00bz (this is when "Bottlez N Bonez Wednezdayz" came about)), to cola and a half gallon of rum split across three broz (I got thoroughly blacked out and harassed a sober roommate. Bryant. You.), and then finally to this week's half g of Evan William for whiskey sourz. We don't play for money. Yet. But it's just a real wholesome activity. It's like the kind of think the Stepbrotherz would think of as a pretty rad activity. Rum night we blew out the electricity in the pool room and had to play in our foyer. See dominoez can really teach a fellow just how to endure adversity. Some times anniversary is easier to overcome than you think. Like if your the guy to the right of the double six player. Don't give up hope that the assholez in front of you might knock. Or better yet, take a trip down to the BONE YARD. That's us yelling at the poor bloke for not being able to play. It can be a ruthless game, and you don't wanna be that guy that finds himself bone collecting. Farming bonez is the opposite of what you want to do. I mean, you're out there, sitting amongst a few other douchebagz, just trying to sell your own bonez to the table. But there's few thingz worse than slapping down a twenty spot and then watching the bastard next to you whore that score for twenty five points. One thing that is worse is going a whole night without ever rackin up 150. You gotta wait a whole week while the other guys talk shit about you, calling you gay, calling you stupid, maybe even downright incompetent... until that next wednezday comes around and your worth may be proven once again. I don't remember finishing those last two nights, but I know I won at least one each time. That's probably the best part about winning, is seeing the disappointment, and frustration dripping off your opponentz' facez. One big problem now faces B Night next week - finals.
But before I let you go, let me tell, and in the process ask, how the forthcoming B Nightz should and will get even awesomer:
We also traditionally smoke blunt(z), so that can stay. But when it's nice out, Bonez on the Balcony (actually lawn or porch), might just be status quo. Bitchez. or Broadz? Whichever is less offensive to the women we'd love to hang around dangling grapes into our mouthz and pouring shampoo down our throatz. If only our landlord allowed pets we would have:
1) a chicken coop, you know, to keep things country
2) a lion chained up just close enough for us to pet
3) opium and opium pipes
4) regular pipes that old men use
4) monoclez
5) for me, a fake mustache that's hella big
6) oh, the girlz can be massaging our shoulderz while wearing sexy bikiniz (oo nice, another b-word)
7) lots of munchiez
8) someone grilling anything and bartending from a tiki bar. She has a straw hat on too. Just the hat actually.
Alright, eazy now, I think the vaporizer's talking for me now. How funny that another Azn squad won ABDC, huh? Well I'll be damned. So comment, txt, make a flog post, whatever you gotta do to request a VIP invite to BnB Gentleman's Club. It's no Penthouse Club, but our landlordz won't let us install a pole either. Oh, and add rabbitz to that list. But keep the tiger from the chickenz and bunniez. Oh, and don't worry if you don't know how to play, we're good at breaking in newbazoidz. Hope I got to use my z key enough tonight. I paid for the damned thing, but don't use it as much as the other onez. One last announcement - let me know if you'll be in Oahu over spring break. Domihoez.
Just a seventh of my week is spent in a simple, yet brilliant fashion playing the age old game of dominoes, also known as bones (more specifically, ivory). My pieces are just imitation bone, but they fulfill their purposes well enough. In fact I might have broken 'em by now if they weren't synthetic material (cameramen have captured me banging the Crown Royal sack of 'noes against the table like a primitive ape playing with a pouch o bones). Anyway, that explains the bonez part, the bottles, brewz, booze, beerz, is what makes da dominoez that much betta. What started out as a casual vapor lounge activity escalated to me having a few beers (in cans), to duecers (22oz-erz, for you n00bz (this is when "Bottlez N Bonez Wednezdayz" came about)), to cola and a half gallon of rum split across three broz (I got thoroughly blacked out and harassed a sober roommate. Bryant. You.), and then finally to this week's half g of Evan William for whiskey sourz. We don't play for money. Yet. But it's just a real wholesome activity. It's like the kind of think the Stepbrotherz would think of as a pretty rad activity. Rum night we blew out the electricity in the pool room and had to play in our foyer. See dominoez can really teach a fellow just how to endure adversity. Some times anniversary is easier to overcome than you think. Like if your the guy to the right of the double six player. Don't give up hope that the assholez in front of you might knock. Or better yet, take a trip down to the BONE YARD. That's us yelling at the poor bloke for not being able to play. It can be a ruthless game, and you don't wanna be that guy that finds himself bone collecting. Farming bonez is the opposite of what you want to do. I mean, you're out there, sitting amongst a few other douchebagz, just trying to sell your own bonez to the table. But there's few thingz worse than slapping down a twenty spot and then watching the bastard next to you whore that score for twenty five points. One thing that is worse is going a whole night without ever rackin up 150. You gotta wait a whole week while the other guys talk shit about you, calling you gay, calling you stupid, maybe even downright incompetent... until that next wednezday comes around and your worth may be proven once again. I don't remember finishing those last two nights, but I know I won at least one each time. That's probably the best part about winning, is seeing the disappointment, and frustration dripping off your opponentz' facez. One big problem now faces B Night next week - finals.
But before I let you go, let me tell, and in the process ask, how the forthcoming B Nightz should and will get even awesomer:
We also traditionally smoke blunt(z), so that can stay. But when it's nice out, Bonez on the Balcony (actually lawn or porch), might just be status quo. Bitchez. or Broadz? Whichever is less offensive to the women we'd love to hang around dangling grapes into our mouthz and pouring shampoo down our throatz. If only our landlord allowed pets we would have:
1) a chicken coop, you know, to keep things country
2) a lion chained up just close enough for us to pet
3) opium and opium pipes
4) regular pipes that old men use
4) monoclez
5) for me, a fake mustache that's hella big
6) oh, the girlz can be massaging our shoulderz while wearing sexy bikiniz (oo nice, another b-word)
7) lots of munchiez
8) someone grilling anything and bartending from a tiki bar. She has a straw hat on too. Just the hat actually.
Alright, eazy now, I think the vaporizer's talking for me now. How funny that another Azn squad won ABDC, huh? Well I'll be damned. So comment, txt, make a flog post, whatever you gotta do to request a VIP invite to BnB Gentleman's Club. It's no Penthouse Club, but our landlordz won't let us install a pole either. Oh, and add rabbitz to that list. But keep the tiger from the chickenz and bunniez. Oh, and don't worry if you don't know how to play, we're good at breaking in newbazoidz. Hope I got to use my z key enough tonight. I paid for the damned thing, but don't use it as much as the other onez. One last announcement - let me know if you'll be in Oahu over spring break. Domihoez.
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