Unclebaldrick
Well-Known Member
I am sitting here drinking the last drop of booze from my dead friend's house (Bulliet Rye) out of the shot glass that he drank his last drink from before a blood vessel burst in his stomach and killed him on August 1. I am morbid this way. I have my two best friends' death-shotglasses not to mention portions of their ashes. They were both sick bastards too.
He always threw a New Year's Day party starting around 2. If he were alive today he would have called me a couple of times to make sure I was going to be there. I think he was insecure (like any sane person less cool that bu$hleaguer) about throwing a party and having nobody show up. But we always did. In truth, it was always a good party - once we learned to intercede in his cooking. I thought about him in a bittersweet sort of way today. I poured a little rye on the Muhajadeen rug he brought me from Afghanistan circa 1987. His Christmas card that year was him posing behind an opium seller's table. I miss him.
It is not really a confession. But this is better than just bumping the thread. Lest this post make anybody sad, don't be. Life goes on.
He always threw a New Year's Day party starting around 2. If he were alive today he would have called me a couple of times to make sure I was going to be there. I think he was insecure (like any sane person less cool that bu$hleaguer) about throwing a party and having nobody show up. But we always did. In truth, it was always a good party - once we learned to intercede in his cooking. I thought about him in a bittersweet sort of way today. I poured a little rye on the Muhajadeen rug he brought me from Afghanistan circa 1987. His Christmas card that year was him posing behind an opium seller's table. I miss him.
It is not really a confession. But this is better than just bumping the thread. Lest this post make anybody sad, don't be. Life goes on.