It was 2005, pre-Katrina, in the Warehouse District after a long day at the Fairgrounds. I really didn't know these two guys Gumbo (actually, it was also pre-'Gumbo') traveled south with, but we stopped at Polynesian Joe's for a couple beers before dinner. Pool? Sure, why not. It was either that or the beach volleyball pit and my back was still killing me from sleeping on the floor each night (yeah, JR didn't want me in his pullout couch-bed). Rack 'em, I'll take JR. Play for beers. CRUSHED 'EM. No big deal, friendly game. Thanks for the beer, boys. Cheers! Sure, we got lucky, rack 'em up again. CRUSHED 'EM. Beers. Rack 'em, CRUSHED 'EM. No thanks, still working on all the other beers you bought. Hey, JR (soon to be Johnny Gumbo), I'm getting the feeling that these guys are all pissed off because we CRUSHED 'EM. And the big Ron Burgundy guy is saying something about us taking advantage 'cause they're wasted. What's up? Personally, we wouldn't be whining if we'd just been CRUSHED, but maybe they're really good and this hurts their pool hall cred. Maybe, they fancy themselves POOL HALL STUDS!Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Twisting by the pool....
I've recently had to listen, via email, to the revisionist rantings of one of the Pool Hall Studs regarding our annual Jazz Fest pool competition. In part "...AARP gents failed attempt every year at pool. And I believe its now up to 5yrs and the PHS's are still victorious. This might be your year if JR isn't running back & going to bed every night at 9:30pm..."
It was 2005, pre-Katrina, in the Warehouse District after a long day at the Fairgrounds. I really didn't know these two guys Gumbo (actually, it was also pre-'Gumbo') traveled south with, but we stopped at Polynesian Joe's for a couple beers before dinner. Pool? Sure, why not. It was either that or the beach volleyball pit and my back was still killing me from sleeping on the floor each night (yeah, JR didn't want me in his pullout couch-bed). Rack 'em, I'll take JR. Play for beers. CRUSHED 'EM. No big deal, friendly game. Thanks for the beer, boys. Cheers! Sure, we got lucky, rack 'em up again. CRUSHED 'EM. Beers. Rack 'em, CRUSHED 'EM. No thanks, still working on all the other beers you bought. Hey, JR (soon to be Johnny Gumbo), I'm getting the feeling that these guys are all pissed off because we CRUSHED 'EM. And the big Ron Burgundy guy is saying something about us taking advantage 'cause they're wasted. What's up? Personally, we wouldn't be whining if we'd just been CRUSHED, but maybe they're really good and this hurts their pool hall cred. Maybe, they fancy themselves POOL HALL STUDS!
It was 2005, pre-Katrina, in the Warehouse District after a long day at the Fairgrounds. I really didn't know these two guys Gumbo (actually, it was also pre-'Gumbo') traveled south with, but we stopped at Polynesian Joe's for a couple beers before dinner. Pool? Sure, why not. It was either that or the beach volleyball pit and my back was still killing me from sleeping on the floor each night (yeah, JR didn't want me in his pullout couch-bed). Rack 'em, I'll take JR. Play for beers. CRUSHED 'EM. No big deal, friendly game. Thanks for the beer, boys. Cheers! Sure, we got lucky, rack 'em up again. CRUSHED 'EM. Beers. Rack 'em, CRUSHED 'EM. No thanks, still working on all the other beers you bought. Hey, JR (soon to be Johnny Gumbo), I'm getting the feeling that these guys are all pissed off because we CRUSHED 'EM. And the big Ron Burgundy guy is saying something about us taking advantage 'cause they're wasted. What's up? Personally, we wouldn't be whining if we'd just been CRUSHED, but maybe they're really good and this hurts their pool hall cred. Maybe, they fancy themselves POOL HALL STUDS!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment