Bits of stories which have slipped through in the past week:

Sweaty with shirt opened to i’m-ready-to-party mid-chest level. All night it’s Bush and Bush lite for him and his friend. Then jut Bush after Bush for him and him alone. Steph serves the final Bush that ruins his marriage. Screaching wife departs with flagelating arms.

“Isn’t Fag Satchel playing here in a few weeks?”

Kicked out about twenty people in past few days. Confiscated two pipes.

Guy I kick out comes back and I throw him out again into the arms of the police. “What’s the problem, officer” he mumbles then –ZOOM!– he is off in a drunken s-line. Three crusisers in pursuit. When he is brought back to the crusiser parked at the cradle he has grass in his hair and a cut on his head. Note to self: tune into this weeks episode of Cops: Paris of the Piedmont.

Used porta-john and experienced Ultimate Gross-Out Splash-Back. Used the provided hand-sanitizer on lower half in hopes of staving off flesh-eating bacteria. Everything seems to be fine… five one thousand… six one thousand… MARY MOTHER OF JESUS MY BALLS ARE ON FIRE!!!

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