This Fish Needs A Bicycle

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What do you do when you need to know what the last two H’s in 4-H stand for? You call Camp Pendleton. Marines know these things.

Oh, the wonders I’d have missed had I stuck to my original plan. I had intended to drop by The Smith Family show at Hank’s Saloon, get a wee bit countrified, then zip back home to be in bed at a reasonable hour. But when I left The Gate yesterday evening with two friends in tow, my plan underwent a slight revision. And the new plan involved getting in bed at a much less reasonable hour.

The Reverend Nick predicted that Benjamin and I would rush to our respective homes and write about how late we all stayed out, and while it is worth mentioning that I finally crawled into bed around 3:30 AM, that certainly wasn’t the highlight.

Here are a few:

Jen. Changing clothes. In the middle of the bar.
Finding myself on the phone with Gene the Marine after insisting to Kevin that we needed to know what all four H’s stood for. Uh, why?
Getting lectured by a tourist on correct whiskey consumption.
Declaring that this guy needs a man bag, only to discover he carries his entire life around in the biggest man bag ever. EVER. He had a razor. And cold medicine.
Blah blah blah Stuart blah
Adrian promptly handing over a ten pound note when Krissa suggested, “I bet if we girls started making out we could get ten bucks from every guy in the bar.”
Making the night clerk laugh when I announced that Hooked on Phonics couldn’t help us find the ATM machine, and that beer is bad.
A fanfuckingtastic Smith Family ho-down.

And with that, I’m going to go in search of a sushi menu. It’s pissing down rain and I’m going to be cruel and make someone deliver my lunch. But I’ll over-tip. To make up for the sogginess.