Friday, January 21, 2011

He's Old-School

When I got here tonight, there was a group of seven or eight people QUITE inebriated at the bar, eating a delicous-smelling pizza.  I usually hate dealing with drunk people who stay past the bar closing, but these dude's were alright, if a little nonsensical (and sometimes pretty obnoxious).  I feel it's necessary to point out that one of these nicer of the fellas looks exactly like a hobo.  His beard was longer than my hair, and his hair was even longer.  Scraggly and pleasant to the max.

Here are some amazing excerpts:

"It's NOT YOUR FAULT, man, it's NOT.  YOUR.  FAULT."

"I love you, man.  I love you, man.  I love you, man.  I can't say it anymore, but I love you, man."

"Hey, hey!  How old are you little lady?" (suddenly from a completely different conversation with his friends)
"How oldr you?"
"Dear lord, I got a grandkid your age.  But I love you."

"I can NOT find your room."
"I know, but with the elevator, I couldn't find it."

 "Am I your singer, am I your singer?"
"I'll be who you want me to be, HAHAHA!"

"I'm...I'm a dick.  No, I'm not a likeable person, I'm a dick."
" seem nice..."
"Well, you're a beautiful."

"Your old man is a hard-workin' fucker."
"He IS a hard-workin' fucker."
"Your old man is a hard-workin' fucker.  Your old man is a hard-workin fucker."

"Poke him in is right eye, poke him in the right one."

"I had a big hammer in my hand one time, and I couldn't beat that bitch.  I don't know.  I'm old-school."

"They're inbred, remember, they're INBRED.  Their mother is their brother, or something."


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