the catering director told me that there was a man in the lobby with a bone in his hand. that was my cue to spring into action. i assured her i would take care of it immediately and headed out there with my trusty napkin-lined tray.
"can i take that for you sir?"
picture 4oo hungry richfucks and their hangers on in a feeding frenzy and a bunch of butlers circulating with trays of lamb chops. what are they to do with the dainty bone after sucking and munching on the poor unfortunate lambs carcass? thats where i came in...
when i was lucky enough to time it JUST right id get it right from their mouth onto my tray, no waiting. picture me on the wrong end of the distribution network, kicking the waiters and telling them to stop what they are doing, calling them all sorts of names. picture me almost killing the chef who asked why i needed white gloves to pick up those unhygenic nasty chewed up bo-peep remnants.
so i had a more violent rugby game than usual this weekend and it felt good to step on people maybe just a tad malicioiusly, to hit a little later than normal and a little harder than a b side match usually warrants...
its like my inner asshole woke up from hibernation or something
i like having him around
he noticed that some of the younger folkes werent exactly respectful in their interactions with the 42 year old prop that they spoke to that evening
perhaps a little too cocksure, a little too disrespectful
well thats what rucking practice is for
im taking the inner asshole to practice on tuesday night and apologizing in advance
if i have some still simmering rage left fom the lambchop nite from hell to work out
that whole "you better make sure your mouth dont write a check your ass is unwilling to cash" paradigm is what i hope to share with these mouthy young fellers
but thats what rugby is anyway
the ultimate clearinghouse for testosterone and testosterone fuelled conversations
but talk and typing are cheap replicas of the real rugby world that has to be felt and smelt to be believed
time to make a few more friends
"can i take that for you sir?"
picture 4oo hungry richfucks and their hangers on in a feeding frenzy and a bunch of butlers circulating with trays of lamb chops. what are they to do with the dainty bone after sucking and munching on the poor unfortunate lambs carcass? thats where i came in...
when i was lucky enough to time it JUST right id get it right from their mouth onto my tray, no waiting. picture me on the wrong end of the distribution network, kicking the waiters and telling them to stop what they are doing, calling them all sorts of names. picture me almost killing the chef who asked why i needed white gloves to pick up those unhygenic nasty chewed up bo-peep remnants.
so i had a more violent rugby game than usual this weekend and it felt good to step on people maybe just a tad malicioiusly, to hit a little later than normal and a little harder than a b side match usually warrants...
its like my inner asshole woke up from hibernation or something
i like having him around
he noticed that some of the younger folkes werent exactly respectful in their interactions with the 42 year old prop that they spoke to that evening
perhaps a little too cocksure, a little too disrespectful
well thats what rucking practice is for
im taking the inner asshole to practice on tuesday night and apologizing in advance
if i have some still simmering rage left fom the lambchop nite from hell to work out
that whole "you better make sure your mouth dont write a check your ass is unwilling to cash" paradigm is what i hope to share with these mouthy young fellers
but thats what rugby is anyway
the ultimate clearinghouse for testosterone and testosterone fuelled conversations
but talk and typing are cheap replicas of the real rugby world that has to be felt and smelt to be believed
time to make a few more friends
posted by bakeowski | 7:26 PM
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