Drunken Recollection… Drips Ahoy!

There has been a Drunken Recollection I’ve been meaning to get to for awhile, but the moment has passed and the recollection is fuzzier than it ever was.  My notes on the matter:

  • Frois grois was typed as a note in my phone, which is actually foie gras… it was a conversation I had with my sister, Tammie, about how ducks and geese are force-fed to fatten up their livers.  I never heard of it, but apparently it’s getting banned in various states courtesy of animal activists.  I have no opinion or witty quip on the matter now – if I did then, consider it “pissed away.”
  • Another thing my sister brought up was an artist she knows that wrote the saying, “War leads to Poverty, Poverty leads to Peace, Peace leads to Greed, Greed leads to War.”  Man, were we in a bummy mood that night.*
  • The only light highlight was a comment from my observant sibling.  On Friday, I missed out on homemade macaroni and cheese at my old grade school because they ran out.  On Sunday, I missed hanging out with an old friend downtown at a place that serves the best homemade macaroni and cheese.  Tammie said, “This was your Mac and Cheese Denial weekend.”

Now onto the most current D.R.  It occurred at a private boat club in Wyandotte, where the usual crew set out to play an exclusive game of trivia.  There were cash prizes to be had – $50 for 1st, $30 for 2nd, and $10 for 3rd.

I arrived first, and its location reminded me of a scene in a movie where people that need to exchange a suitcase full of money, a nuclear warhead, or “whatever’s-in-the-trunk” would meet.

Inside, I had to knock on the port door to be let in.  Then I had to sign a book.  All the old regulars surrounded the bar, and all they served was beer in cans that had that faint odor of old ice.  I ordered my can and sat my can at the table near the window overlooking Lake Erie.

The others arrived and we decided to split into two teams (the better to win more money – which we did, natch!)  We quickly learned that the regulars weren’t too fond of us being there, and, oh yeah – there was a certain spot at the bar you had to order from.  The bartender could look right at you standing anywhere else and he’d look through you.

We ended up drinking enough to build a beer can pyramid, a.k.a. a beeramid, which made the regulars mad.  We each walked out with an extra five bucks each and our tab paid back.  All-in-all, I will never return there again.  Maybe.

In closing, I also learned that cenosillicaphobia meant “fear of an empty beer glass” and that I am cenosillicaphobic.

Not pictured: our beeramid. This is based on a true story.

Not pictured: our beeramid. This is based on a true story.

*Okay, I was completely (well not completely) off on the quote.  It’s from a folk song and her fiancé’s uncle wrote it down and framed it:

ALL IN A NUT SHELL

War begets poverty
Poverty peace
Peace begets wealth
Wealth beget pride
Pride is war’s ground
War begets poverty

So the world goes round

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