Everybody loves a sloppy Joe!
This is a bit of wisdom obtained from last Tuesday. The story goes:
I had went to the local L.A. Cafe with two friends of mine, Joe and John. Well, make that three, but she wasn't really there, having drank 12 or so beers. But Lesslie is a good kid, yaknow? Anyway, before hitting the Cafe, we stopped at Lesslie's house to hang out before we left at 9pm. Her mother made sloppy joes. [Every-body loves a sloppy Joe] No body else had one except me, strangely enough. It was good tastin' and very very hot. 9pm came along, we rode there, got in, got settled and spent the time making fun of the people singin' Karaoke. There was a group of dark-dressed rockers at a table celebrating a birthday. For a few times one or two of them went up, they actually sang country, and very well too. Some body sung a song from "Oh Brother Where art Thou," and those rockers were all dancing, slapping their legs and they might as well had a jug to blow into. It was outrageous.
And... and... Joe spent the time drinking. There was a friend of Joe's who was also drinking and enjoying Karaoke's D-students. Hahaha. Steve is _awesome_! He knows so many songs it's like having a real life drunken iPod next to you. He bought a couple cups of draft. He slid one over to where I was sitting and he told me to "drink this". I was all, What is it? He answered that is was Killian's. An Irish beer. I answered saying, No man, I tried a little of Joe's and I didn't like it. Well, he and I went back and forth arguing this, and eventually Steve told me this: "Either it goes in your mouth, or it goes on your head." And I verily believed him. Oh yes, he convinced me to agree... So I gulped that sucker. Oh BOY. That was... it wasn't good, nor was it terrible. It was just bad. It tasted like it brewed from lawmower clippings and water. It was baaad. The texture was okay, I'll give Killian's that. The foam was pretty decent, except, you know, lawmower. Wooo, I'm sorry if I dissed anybody's favorite drink. We all have our different tastes. Bad.
Later that night [more like morning], we had returned to Joe's house, and in his room, there was some chemistry going on in my stomach. It was bad. Like, rancid clouds of toxic bad. There were no fatalities, thankfully.
What is the wisdom? Never mix Sloppy Joes and Killians in the same night. You might die.
P.S. Oh yeah... Karaoke: [Japanese : kara; void, empty + oke(sutora), orchestra (from English ORCHESTRA).] Practice, please.
I had went to the local L.A. Cafe with two friends of mine, Joe and John. Well, make that three, but she wasn't really there, having drank 12 or so beers. But Lesslie is a good kid, yaknow? Anyway, before hitting the Cafe, we stopped at Lesslie's house to hang out before we left at 9pm. Her mother made sloppy joes. [Every-body loves a sloppy Joe] No body else had one except me, strangely enough. It was good tastin' and very very hot. 9pm came along, we rode there, got in, got settled and spent the time making fun of the people singin' Karaoke. There was a group of dark-dressed rockers at a table celebrating a birthday. For a few times one or two of them went up, they actually sang country, and very well too. Some body sung a song from "Oh Brother Where art Thou," and those rockers were all dancing, slapping their legs and they might as well had a jug to blow into. It was outrageous.
And... and... Joe spent the time drinking. There was a friend of Joe's who was also drinking and enjoying Karaoke's D-students. Hahaha. Steve is _awesome_! He knows so many songs it's like having a real life drunken iPod next to you. He bought a couple cups of draft. He slid one over to where I was sitting and he told me to "drink this". I was all, What is it? He answered that is was Killian's. An Irish beer. I answered saying, No man, I tried a little of Joe's and I didn't like it. Well, he and I went back and forth arguing this, and eventually Steve told me this: "Either it goes in your mouth, or it goes on your head." And I verily believed him. Oh yes, he convinced me to agree... So I gulped that sucker. Oh BOY. That was... it wasn't good, nor was it terrible. It was just bad. It tasted like it brewed from lawmower clippings and water. It was baaad. The texture was okay, I'll give Killian's that. The foam was pretty decent, except, you know, lawmower. Wooo, I'm sorry if I dissed anybody's favorite drink. We all have our different tastes. Bad.
Later that night [more like morning], we had returned to Joe's house, and in his room, there was some chemistry going on in my stomach. It was bad. Like, rancid clouds of toxic bad. There were no fatalities, thankfully.
What is the wisdom? Never mix Sloppy Joes and Killians in the same night. You might die.
P.S. Oh yeah... Karaoke: [Japanese : kara; void, empty + oke(sutora), orchestra (from English ORCHESTRA).] Practice, please.