Just spent my evening helping Lori Ann pack up the rest of her place to move (unexpectedly, and gratefully I might add because I didn't think I'd get to see her for ages).
She gave me all their booze, which was mostly vodka, Jack, Kahlua,
Bailey's and some cheap brandy.
I just took a bath, went outside to smoke in my bathrobe with a modified White Russian (we don't have milk. The Bailey's had to substitute).
Realized, as I sat on the porch at quarter to 1 a.m. : I have become the dude.
(This story is funnier if you've known me for ten years and were around for the years that we'd routinely come home to find Mike in his plaid bathrobe and long hair, joint lit and White Russian in hand).
I never thought it would happen to me!
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4 comments:
All that's missing is Logan peeing on your rug. I can't wait to read more posts under the "Big Lebowski Is My Life" label.
So does this mean you've become Mike?
Thank the gods, no. Partly because there's no danger of ME peeing on the rug!!
Ohhh... but that would be soooo sexy.
I dare you not to dare me to laugh.
Heard you're coming to town, not that those fuckers would ever invite me over for a holiday...
sniff, sniff...
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