Saddo's Bar & Gentlemens Club.

[boozeboxer]

No. I was kidding. I don't believe in tattoos. If I did have one it would be something practical like words that I always spell wrong. Such as malevolence and asphyxiated.

[Violent Demise]

Yes thank you VD. I will charm the ladies and you all can discuss boxing-man talk. Then I will show them my Winky tattoo and they will be mine.

You have a African American man tatooed some where on your body?

I heard. Can't confirm. But I heard Winky and the words "this belongs to" are tattooed above his ass.

[PRIDE OF BOSTON]

Yes thank you VD. I will charm the ladies and you all can discuss boxing-man talk. Then I will show them my Winky tattoo and they will be mine.

You have a African American man tatooed some where on your body?

I heard. Can't confirm. But I heard Winky and the words "this belongs to" are tattooed above his ass.

Hey, at least he's met Winky, I guess

[boozeboxer]

I deserved this one......

[PRIDE OF BOSTON]

LOl, just playing booze... **Slides a shot of Jager over to Booze**

[leftylee]

Hey Pride, do the honours and pull us a bitter if your behind the bar

VD, any more chicks on the go homie ??

[boozeboxer]

Hey Pride, do the honours and pull us a bitter if your behind the bar

VD, any more chicks on the go homie ??

You mean besides the ones surrounding the Booze listening to how he talked Ditka into calling some of his plays.....no. Did I mention I am an astronaut?

[leftylee]

Hey Pride, do the honours and pull us a bitter if your behind the bar

VD, any more chicks on the go homie ??

You mean besides the ones surrounding the Booze listening to how he talked Ditka into calling some of his plays.....no. Did I mention I am an astronaut?

LOL

[CFH]

No. I was kidding. I don't believe in tattoos. If I did have one it would be something practical like words that I always spell wrong. Such as malevolence and asphyxiated.

Get one and you'll become horribly addicted to them... they're worse than crack and I love them illicitly.

[donnydarkoIRL]

Was training with a very very good pro trainer yesterday.

I learned a lot and I thiunk my technique suits me better already!

Can't wait to get to the gym to commit it all to muscle memory!


Champagne for all!

[boozeboxer]

[IMG]http://rds.yahoo.com/_ylt=A0WTb_vl32RI.9wACYmjzbkF/SIG=12jdir9qh/EXP=1214656869/**http%3A//data.blogg.de/7644/images/War_and_Peace_1972_Scr_3_R.jpg[/IMG]

[boozeboxer]

Why do I always wake up very early when I get real shit hammered........

[donnydarkoIRL]

Why do I always wake up very early when I get real shit hammered........

Dehydration most probably

[boozeboxer]

I wrote this the other day and don't know what to do with it, so I figured I would post it here.... Read or not as you wish.

He paused as he walked past the park. It was a small park, the size of a city block. In the center was a large water fountain that was enclosed with Victorian metal fencing. The plaque said, "In memory of Kate Thompson........Dr. Gary Thompson." Sid often thought how nice such a donation was, very much that of a gentleman. Perhaps a wealthy gentleman who had spent his youth being an adulterer or an abusive drunk. Well you can patch anything, he thought. It would bother him, however, if he had such a display and it was only enjoyed by bums, the idle, the ugly, the old. That would never do. He tossed a beer can on the ground for the unfortunate to find in the morning.
He always walked through this park at night on his way to the bar and it was always lit up, and it was always dark when he went home. As if some manifested message of guilt for him. "Don't be so conceded," he would say out loud, drunk. "No message would be wasted on you."
At the bar he would often sit alone watching the other people. And he would drink fast and long before he ever would decide that anyone was worth talking to. The next day he would always feel bad for wasting his time talking to other people. they are stupid, or weak, or in poor taste. "If they were to your standards they wouldn't want you and if you could have them, being the wierd soul you are, you shouldn't want them anyway," he would say to himself guiltily the next day. He would remind himself not to speak so freely to others in his ignorant stages.
But the waitresses were the reason to ever go to such a hopeless and discouraging venue. Anything that made them seem more flawed and attainable while maintaining a feminine element made them all the more attractive.
Kelly. Kelly reminded him of the girl he had thought of for as long as he could remember. She was blond and her occupation was a bartender. She was very efficient and good at her job. She wore tight clothes and made herself up quite well on the weekends when the tips would be lucrative. During the day she would have glasses on where she would be doing the slow lunch business or paperwork at a table. Biting her pen as she pondered over some figure. For a personality she was quite bitchy and curt to those who did not know her and too nice to those that she did. She always had, behind the bar, a large purse which had a variety of over-the-counter medicine that she would give to ailing patrons upon request. In this way she had a motherly appeal. He had often imagined her as an intensely loyal woman who was tied down by those she loved and clinging terribly to some broken dream. He often wished he had the means to make her happy. Well he had heard she was dating some guy studying for the New Jersey bar, maybe she will get out. He had never talked to her. Maybe when he was worth a damn he would.
Tonight he noticed that Kelly was not working, and dressed in a black dress. Tasteful. You are either born with it or you aren't he thought. His waitress brought him another Budweiser. The waitress serving him tonight was cute and young. She was an impressive drinker and was wild as a feral goat, and wiser than her age. She was tan, short, and had long dark curly hair. All her mannerisms were that as to please. He often thought of her as an Indian daughter and how graceful she would have been in a canoe. Once he had asked her on a date. Of course she had a boyfriend. They all had boyfriends. She truly disliked him, but her way was such that he never held it against her. Her way was to dislike and distrust and to drink and he had to admire her. The only thing he could want to change about her was her dislike of him.
Some people knew him at the bar. He often wished they would invite him out, and when they did he could not refuse but he always regretted wasting himself to such company. The guys would follow the girls relentlessly. Like five grown bull calves following an ugly, lam cow across a weedy field. The lack of class bothered him. To make things worse, the girls responded. They talked to ugly men, with ugly flip-flops and ugly feet and stupid ways. Men who drank to fit in. Designer drinks or non-domestic beers to show their sophistication. You can't buy decency he would think. Men who had bowl haircuts in middle school because of the popularity of such grotesque fashion sense.
He was outside now. Drinking at a table with people with small thoughts whenever they carried Kelly out. She was completely unconscious. Her arms limply on her side. They sat her in a plastic lawn chair. People gathered around as if a two-headed turtle had been brought out for their entertainment. The fat bouncer went into the bar and came back out with a 7 gallon bucket and placed it in front of her. A bucket like one that would be used by some bum prizefighter in-between rounds of an irrelevant fight that people attended in morbid curiosity. A fight where un-honest money was bet on un-honest fighters. One girl kept screaming, "she needs an ambulance!." The fat bouncer wanted everyone to go inside as he didn't want to draw the attention of law enforcement. This girl who had worked honestly and diligently was being rewarded with the respect usually reserved for small detrimental rodents. The whole thing was ugly. He got up to leave, shaking his head. The next stop was the pizza parlor.

[JT Rock]

I wrote this the other day and don't know what to do with it, so I figured I would post it here.... Read or not as you wish.

He paused as he walked past the park. It was a small park, the size of a city block. In the center was a large water fountain that was enclosed with Victorian metal fencing. The plaque said, "In memory of Kate Thompson........Dr. Gary Thompson." Sid often thought how nice such a donation was, very much that of a gentleman. Perhaps a wealthy gentleman who had spent his youth being an adulterer or an abusive drunk. Well you can patch anything, he thought. It would bother him, however, if he had such a display and it was only enjoyed by bums, the idle, the ugly, the old. That would never do. He tossed a beer can on the ground for the unfortunate to find in the morning.
He always walked through this park at night on his way to the bar and it was always lit up, and it was always dark when he went home. As if some manifested message of guilt for him. "Don't be so conceded," he would say out loud, drunk. "No message would be wasted on you."
At the bar he would often sit alone watching the other people. And he would drink fast and long before he ever would decide that anyone was worth talking to. The next day he would always feel bad for wasting his time talking to other people. they are stupid, or weak, or in poor taste. "If they were to your standards they wouldn't want you and if you could have them, being the wierd soul you are, you shouldn't want them anyway," he would say to himself guiltily the next day. He would remind himself not to speak so freely to others in his ignorant stages.
But the waitresses were the reason to ever go to such a hopeless and discouraging venue. Anything that made them seem more flawed and attainable while maintaining a feminine element made them all the more attractive.
Kelly. Kelly reminded him of the girl he had thought of for as long as he could remember. She was blond and her occupation was a bartender. She was very efficient and good at her job. She wore tight clothes and made herself up quite well on the weekends when the tips would be lucrative. During the day she would have glasses on where she would be doing the slow lunch business or paperwork at a table. Biting her pen as she pondered over some figure. For a personality she was quite bitchy and curt to those who did not know her and too nice to those that she did. She always had, behind the bar, a large purse which had a variety of over-the-counter medicine that she would give to ailing patrons upon request. In this way she had a motherly appeal. He had often imagined her as an intensely loyal woman who was tied down by those she loved and clinging terribly to some broken dream. He often wished he had the means to make her happy. Well he had heard she was dating some guy studying for the New Jersey bar, maybe she will get out. He had never talked to her. Maybe when he was worth a damn he would.
Tonight he noticed that Kelly was not working, and dressed in a black dress. Tasteful. You are either born with it or you aren't he thought. His waitress brought him another Budweiser. The waitress serving him tonight was cute and young. She was an impressive drinker and was wild as a feral goat, and wiser than her age. She was tan, short, and had long dark curly hair. All her mannerisms were that as to please. He often thought of her as an Indian daughter and how graceful she would have been in a canoe. Once he had asked her on a date. Of course she had a boyfriend. They all had boyfriends. She truly disliked him, but her way was such that he never held it against her. Her way was to dislike and distrust and to drink and he had to admire her. The only thing he could want to change about her was her dislike of him.
Some people knew him at the bar. He often wished they would invite him out, and when they did he could not refuse but he always regretted wasting himself to such company. The guys would follow the girls relentlessly. Like five grown bull calves following an ugly, lam cow across a weedy field. The lack of class bothered him. To make things worse, the girls responded. They talked to ugly men, with ugly flip-flops and ugly feet and stupid ways. Men who drank to fit in. Designer drinks or non-domestic beers to show their sophistication. You can't buy decency he would think. Men who had bowl haircuts in middle school because of the popularity of such grotesque fashion sense.
He was outside now. Drinking at a table with people with small thoughts whenever they carried Kelly out. She was completely unconscious. Her arms limply on her side. They sat her in a plastic lawn chair. People gathered around as if a two-headed turtle had been brought out for their entertainment. The fat bouncer went into the bar and came back out with a 7 gallon bucket and placed it in front of her. A bucket like one that would be used by some bum prizefighter in-between rounds of an irrelevant fight that people attended in morbid curiosity. A fight where un-honest money was bet on un-honest fighters. One girl kept screaming, "she needs an ambulance!." The fat bouncer wanted everyone to go inside as he didn't want to draw the attention of law enforcement. This girl who had worked honestly and diligently was being rewarded with the respect usually reserved for small detrimental rodents. The whole thing was ugly. He got up to leave, shaking his head. The next stop was the pizza parlor.

Geez Booze some real good stuff their... Was that random or are you writing a Book?