So, about last night?

if you dont remember
you dont want to

trust me

.
.
.

I'm posting this against my better judgement
because what good is utterly humiliating your friends
if you cant post it to the internet
for everyone to enjoy

the backstory

last night was the rugby teams end of season banquet and awards night

the guys, showered, shaved and got suited up
[and I went around tying the ties for the guys]
[whose mommas werent home to do it for them]

and we had a surprisingly civilized cocktail hour
followed by a delicious dinner
then the awards were presented

afterwards everyone retired to my house
to convene the tribunal known as

Kangaroo Court

this ancient and hallowed tradition
seeks to mete out justice and shame
to all those who misbehaviors might not have been properly recognized
and of course to share those tales with anyone who might not have been present

in the interest of fairness
there is a sitting judge and jury
as well as a prosecutor and someone is appointed to defend the accused

charges are first formally laid by the prosecutor
then the floor is opened for additional charges from the gallery
and usually the defense attorney tacks on an extra couple
for good measure

as you might guess
it rapidly descended into utter madness
[you know its a good party]
[when floor space for passing out on]
[is hotly contested]

I will warn you
some of the pictures in the gallery
linked below are not worksafe
hell some arent any kind of safe

but remember kids these are trained professionals
and this was done under the close (and drunken) supervision
of more than one paramedic

do not attempt this at home

without further ado

Kangaroo Court

A few points on modern life (memeish)

Stop giving me that pop-up ad for Classmates.com! There's a reason you don't talk to people for 25 years. Because you don't particularly like them! Besides, I already know what the captain of the football team is doing these days: mowing my lawn.

Don't eat anything that's served to you out a window unless you're a seagull. People are acting all shocked that a human finger was found in a bowl of Wendy's chili. Hey, it cost less than a dollar. What did you expect it to contain? Trout? Luckily, it was only a finger! If it were a whole hand, Congress would have voted to keep it alive.

Ladies, leave your eyebrows alone. Here's how much men care about your eyebrows: do you have two of them? Okay, we're done.

There's no such thing as flavored water. There's a whole aisle of this crap at the supermarket, water, but without that watery taste. Sorry, but flavored water is called a soft drink. You want flavored water? Pour some scotch over ice and let it melt. That's your flavored water.

The more complicated the Starbucks order, the bigger the asshole. If you walk into a Starbucks and order a "decaf grande half-soy, half-low fat, iced vanilla, double-shot, gingerbread cappuccino, extra dry, light ice, with one Sweet-n'-Low and one NutraSweet," ooh, you're a huge asshole.

Just because your tattoo has Chinese characters in it doesn't make you spiritual. It's right above the crack of your ass. And it translates to "beef with broccoli." The last time you did anything spiritual, you were praying to God you weren't pregnant. You're not spiritual. You're just high.

Competitive eating isn't a sport. It's one of the seven deadly sins. ESPN recently televised the US Open of Competitive Eating, because watching those athletes at the poker table was just too damned exciting. What's next, competitive farting? Oh wait. They're already doing that. It's called "The Howard Stern Show."

If you're going to insist on making movies based on crappy, old television shows, then you have to give everyone in the Cineplex a remote so we can see what's playing on the other screens. Let's remember the reason something was a television show in the first place is the idea wasn't good enough to be a movie.

No more gift registries. You know, it used to be just for weddings. Now it's for babies and new homes and graduations from rehab. Picking up the stuff you want and having other people buy it for you isn't gift giving, it's the white people version of looting.

and this one is long overdue: No more bathroom attendants. After I zip up, some guy is offering me a towel and a mint like I just had sex with George Michael. I can't even tell if he's supposed to be there, or just some freak with a fetish. I don't want to be on your web cam, dude. I just want to wash my hands.

When I ask how old your toddler is, I don't need to know in months. "27 Months." "He's two," will do just fine. He's not a cheese. And I didn't really care in the first place.