My house now has a bar in it
When you read the subject of this journal entry, you pictured something in your head. Whatever you pictured is inadequate, small, and flaccid. It does not compare.
The bar that now sits in our garage was originally part of an Italian restaurant that changed hands, so the original Italian-style tiling has since been covered up in hardwood. It seats at least fourteen people (and trust me, we have the stools to support it). It is twice as long as your car and at least as deep. It is the most glorious thing that human eyes have ever witnessed.
In the other side of the garage, we have the "lounge" area, with two couches and several chairs from Carter Finley stadium. Both couches fold out into beds, so if you come here and get drunk, you need have no worries.
The bar area also boasts satellite TV, a DVD player, and a surround-sound stereo system. We have enough shot glasses to accomodate half of NCSU's population and enough beer to make the other half vomit and then drink some more to recover.
We managed to acquire this gigantic piece of heaven through a friend of ours, to whom it had previously belonged. His house having been forclosed upon, and his family not having another house of sufficient size to accomodate it, he told us that were it not to sell we could have it FOR FREE. So, when he called us last Tuesday night at 9:00 and told us that everything had to be out by midnight, when the forclosure was final, we took him the fuck up on it.
Now, until you see the thing, you cannot have any concept of how difficult it was just to disassemble. And it WAS difficult. Then we had to MOVE the bloody thing in three pieces, each weighing a couple of hundred pounds. After that, of course, came the two o'clock in the morning reassembly period, during which Dusty knocked his jaw out of place, Kyle nearly lost a finger, and I was blighted with what I assure you was a really serious blister. But, by the time the sun had come up, the bar was again in one piece, magnificiently reflecting all the glory of God who, in His wisdom, saw fit to let us get hammered.
So, I say this to you, my tiny audience: if ever you wish to come and drink for free at a bar that is lax in its checking of identification, let me know by whatever means necessary, or just stop by, because until I'm dead, I'll be spending every waking hour serving as barkeep, getting garbagefaced right along with you.
The bar that now sits in our garage was originally part of an Italian restaurant that changed hands, so the original Italian-style tiling has since been covered up in hardwood. It seats at least fourteen people (and trust me, we have the stools to support it). It is twice as long as your car and at least as deep. It is the most glorious thing that human eyes have ever witnessed.
In the other side of the garage, we have the "lounge" area, with two couches and several chairs from Carter Finley stadium. Both couches fold out into beds, so if you come here and get drunk, you need have no worries.
The bar area also boasts satellite TV, a DVD player, and a surround-sound stereo system. We have enough shot glasses to accomodate half of NCSU's population and enough beer to make the other half vomit and then drink some more to recover.
We managed to acquire this gigantic piece of heaven through a friend of ours, to whom it had previously belonged. His house having been forclosed upon, and his family not having another house of sufficient size to accomodate it, he told us that were it not to sell we could have it FOR FREE. So, when he called us last Tuesday night at 9:00 and told us that everything had to be out by midnight, when the forclosure was final, we took him the fuck up on it.
Now, until you see the thing, you cannot have any concept of how difficult it was just to disassemble. And it WAS difficult. Then we had to MOVE the bloody thing in three pieces, each weighing a couple of hundred pounds. After that, of course, came the two o'clock in the morning reassembly period, during which Dusty knocked his jaw out of place, Kyle nearly lost a finger, and I was blighted with what I assure you was a really serious blister. But, by the time the sun had come up, the bar was again in one piece, magnificiently reflecting all the glory of God who, in His wisdom, saw fit to let us get hammered.
So, I say this to you, my tiny audience: if ever you wish to come and drink for free at a bar that is lax in its checking of identification, let me know by whatever means necessary, or just stop by, because until I'm dead, I'll be spending every waking hour serving as barkeep, getting garbagefaced right along with you.