Ok so I couldn’t make it through the entirety of the first weekend of Mardi Gras. I’m not feeling in good shape today. I am feeling in a shape, but that shape is vulgar, sad, and hedious, and should stay in dark corners. Am I not human? Do I not need to sleep? It’s been on since Friday at 6 o’clock. Two 4 a.m. mornings in a row will humble even the most seasoned of drunks. But when you start at noon it’s and entirely new ballgame.
Enter the marathon party. This Sunday we will call a wash. I will recover, rehydrate, and relax. But this coming Wednesday, the 14th, at 6 o’clock p.m. it starts again. Mardi Gras or bust. 7 strait days of parades and party come this Wednesday.
I am officially spam. I was wholly unprepared for the first newsletter sent from the Kingpin. Not only was I using my own email address as the “from address,”but I was also not aware of the process or the taxation on my GridServer, or the shit storm fall out entailed in mass mailing. I am frightened on what this could mean for my server and it’s already low web status. The last thing I need to be is the IP address of Bar spam. I am not looking forward to removing manually 200 bunk email addresses from my database. UG! I can’t believe I used my own address. OH GOD MAKE IT END! I suppose if drunk people could spell their email addresses we would live in some utopia.
As a bar fly, the most underrated and invaluable service you can offer to a patron of your bar is a broadband access to wi-fi. Brilliant. What a beautiful day and age when I can site comfortably on my padded stool, drink my over priced domestic beer, watch my Simpsons, have a smoke and browse ye ol’ intertron, all while maintaining the utmost of bar cooool.If you could figure out a way to get me a power outlet that I can’t spill a beer in and some more elbow room this would be the most idea situation.
