Monday, June 26, 2006

I've got tickets to Mature Town but I keep missing the damn train.

The highlight from Friday night:
During a rousing game of Scattegories at Guthrie's, Kristin and I got into a fight over the Gibb brothers and I totally won. Sure, I had to call my father for backup, but I was still right. And yes, that does mean that I drunk-dialed my father to ask him a question about Andy Gibb, but that's only because the damn Australians who were sitting at the table behind us were NO HELP. And I know they heard us arguing because I made a point to yell, "ANDY GIBB WAS NOT A BEE GEE," so that one of them would turn around and say, "You're so right, mate. I know this because I'm Australian and Barry Gibb is our poet laureate."

I'd write more but I'm pretty busy today at work. Plus I still have a poem to write for tonight and I should really use my blogging time for that instead of writing more about getting drunk. I promise I'll write more later, because there was just too much weekend and I'm kind of amazed I made it out alive.

(And, in case you were wondering, the Bee Gees were Barry, Robin, and Maurice! Maurice Gibb! He's the dead one, Kristin!)


Kristin said...

you may have "one" the Gibb argument but you lost the homonym battle.

Tyler said...


I'm going to leave that up there.

Tyler said...

I changed my mind. I don't want everyone to think I don't realize I'm an idiot.