First official Church visit. Despite DJ, good cocktails, and well built surrounds, it was hard to keep the faith. Shuffleboard and first ever TFC karaoke (Namath and Gato sing When Doves Cry) was just fine. Peaceful sleazy feeling by Raunchy the Clown was high/lowlight.
A glimpse of a Tabortop Tuesday eclipsed by Time – it used to make me wait; it now just makes me late. Vic in the Slut at 8, sucking on Melo’s candy stick (wait, let me clarify…). Finds swan perched at the far end of the Sandy bar, watching the Heat get Spurred, buying me a beer, and a whiskey — an auspicious start to a fine one-night stand. Three more fathers pour in before the tap runs dry — SA, Phiets and Melo. They fly in formation through rough skies, wavering but never falling. A break in the action when a couple of young bucks who fancy themselves players compete for the table; shortly they walk away, beaten down 20 to 3, and we get back to business. Swan and Vic ride the Karaoke camp thermals to new heights together. The final tally – 6-and-oh my goodness for V-Form, oh and left wanting for the rest — belies many a close game. Average margin of victory for the 5 games against fathers: just 3.4 points — just enough for Swan to fly his win streak up to nine straight. A late ending to shuffle balances a late start. No food was consumed, only carmelized whiskey and beer. Gome by Schmidnight-thirty, hungover all day long. – Vic
Stop or you’re gonna get tased.
Post thaw cycle through drainside lakes. Slimmed ranks at Lambeau with only Dübz and I taken up the crank against the carbon crutch. The emergence of the Swiss librarian sweater signals our exit to the Hut. SA is now Dewey Sassafras. Dübz and Vic run the table at the non-karaoke side of the bar. Late Beulah nite cap and then the wet ride gome.