So, in my own brain, I deserved some beers and time with my nutbar friends.
I will never consider you a gross old man beer.
At least not until I am a gross old man.
Please note Toni's Movember 'stache. No, not above her lip. Lower.
It's more of a cleavage frame. Don't act like you don't dig it.
She only hugs me when she's drunk. I'm working to change that.
That dude right there is HappyBirthdayFace. That's what I named him on my 27th birthday.
And from this picture, I shall henceforth be known as BitchFace. Fitting.
Or... Hands Across A Whelan's Gate Table.
"Aaaahhh!", says the group.
Then his friend stole his wallet and tried to impress us with it after skulking behind us and waiting for an opportunity to show off. Can't make this shit up.
And thus ends Friday night.
Saturday night, a lot less pics were taken... but I managed to steal one, of me in the middle of a Lads sammich.
We now return to our regularly-scheduled Monday programming.