i think i might have hit a infield home run here, if nothing else its a triple.
ok it was karoke night and the place is "packed" and im out on the patio, along with several groups of people who are loudly drinking themselves retarded.
yes, i said retarded.
one of the tables i noticed is surrounded by three young women and covered in several empty glasses of something that way once blue and more than likely, flammable...
no this isnt a story of somone catching themselves on fire at a bar... although i do have a story about that.
no this is a story of a classic freudian slip.
at one point in the evening one of the girls at the forementioned table lurches to her feet and yells at the top of her lungs:
(click to enlarge)
but the damage was done and everyone had heard her...
its funny how silence can make a sound of its own.