H.P. Loveshaft wrote:Thanks Sarge, and sorry I'm a bit esoteric at times, too many dime store detective novels and the like.
Nah, I read the same stuff. I also do exceptional drunkenese to English translation.
Ahhh yer both alright. It's not 6am where either of you is, though... filtering that degree of esotericism through my wine-soaked, exhausted brain, is harder than it looks! ;)
Oh, and hello from Saturday. Sarge, what time is it on the east coast? I want to call Mayhem and wish him a happy marriage before I pass out, if indeed this is possible... happy hunting, boys, and try not to hit any deer on your way home.
Hey Peri, long time no see.
It is 4PM EST, so it would be a fine time to call. I even have his cell number if you need it, just PM me.
And DON'T JOKE about hitting deer, I nailed one this summer and I'm still sorting all the damage out of the damned car.
drink your fucking drink, Drunkards answer to no one
I have fought that battle, and taken the proverbial bullet. Depending on other people at your establishment, you may find advantageous to become very, very drunk so you can later wave off the corrida del torro as the Cuervo talking and, uh, whatever else happens.
Depending on the situation, you may also find a disposable cell phone a vital tool to take to war.
The target area was met late due to Operation: Pick Up Uncle From Airport. After an initial survey of the situation the Commander seemed to have the primary target well in hand. Due to unforseen circumstances one Hambeast class humanoid and one initially mis-identified Butterface class decoy left shortly after the arrival of Wingman 'Shaft. (Wingman 'Shaft would like to take credit for banishing these potential hazards, but that shall be reviewed by committee.) Wingman 'Shaft then took a nearby concealed observation station to provide backup when necessary. The Wingman was somewhat dismayed that the Commander was cribbing directly from his own book, but it seemed to be working along with the Commanders somewhat puzzling Cheap Draft tactic, to which the Wingman added a generous Sambuca Blitz to seal the deal. True to form, the Commander left after an aditional Cheap Draft with the Target, sloppy and smiling. Wingman 'Shaft returned to the Officer's Club, and celebrated the impending victory.
Well, it seemed to go much better than I thought, and I had very few Wingman responsibilities, so I did what I do best, drank. I'll keep you posted as to the Commander's assumed victory, hopefully he took my advice and drove toward Fifth Base.
Jesus! You think Eddie Money has to put up with this shit?!
I really enjoyed this thread. I have it on good authority that I am the worst wingman ever, but I am working on it.
"You people terrify me. You're like some sort of Unholy Trinity of drunken viking maniacs." - Nil
"You know, I'm surprised that someone who looks like the aging love child of Big Bird and Snuffaluffagus would bring physical appearance into this." - Oggar
It dulls pain, makes the sun shine brighter, and makes boring people more interesting.
The Commander, after a seemingly successful pregame maneuver, was shot down at the landing strip. Robbed of his victory at the gates of triumph he was assaulted with those most deadly of tactics the "I Want a Real Relationship", without so much as a concillitory "handshake". Sticking to company procedure he retaliated with an honorable but futile "Fuck That" defence. Now relieved of duty, he has been approached by Wingman 'Shaft for a consolation night of liberty at the Officer's Club, which may involve an impromptu "Hogging" mission.
Well that's it gents, my bud got black flagged on the last lap, denied. And here I was thinking I had just flown a simple escort mission and he had it in the bag, the plug was pulled uncermoniously at the last minute. I should have ordered more shots, or got him to upgrade his booze preference, he was one fishbowl away from glory. This must have been how the Russians felt at the 1980 Winter Olympics. Well, at least I got loaded...
Jesus! You think Eddie Money has to put up with this shit?!
The Commander, after a seemingly successful pregame maneuver, was shot down at the landing strip. Robbed of his victory at the gates of triumph he was assaulted with those most deadly of tactics the "I Want a Real Relationship", without so much as a concillitory "handshake". Sticking to company procedure he retaliated with an honorable but futile "Fuck That" defence. Now relieved of duty, he has been approached by Wingman 'Shaft for a consolation night of liberty at the Officer's Club, which may involve an impromptu "Hogging" mission.
Well that's it gents, my bud got black flagged on the last lap, denied. And here I was thinking I had just flown a simple escort mission and he had it in the bag, the plug was pulled uncermoniously at the last minute. I should have ordered more shots, or got him to upgrade his booze preference, he was one fishbowl away from glory. This must have been how the Russians felt at the 1980 Winter Olympics. Well, at least I got loaded...
i am the world's best wingman.... been many a time i've laid on the barbed wire or jumped on a grenade for the boys.
although sometimes it has backfired when i've entertained the ham beasts so much that they take the girl away from my buddy to make her talk to me instead, but then the old "sorry, i only go for short / tall / oblonde / brunette / skinny / voluptous / other ethnicity *delete as applicable* women".... or just turn round and go, "Sorry, i fancy your mate...." then drink yourself unconcious.... if they take you home, you can take solace in the fact that if you cant remember it, it never happened.
and remember, best thing about fat birds? They've always got food you can steal for breakfast when you are running away in the morning.
