Greg’s birthday is next Tuesday. If he was here now, I would be giving him crap about next year being the big 5-0 for him. Every year for his birthday, Greg and I would take the day off of work, hang out at his place, and do whatever he wanted. We would order take out, watch movies, look at crazy websites, and talk about anything that popped into our heads. So next Tuesday, I’m staying home and celebrating his birthday the way he liked it.
Greg also liked to drink on his birthday, so this occasion calls for a happy hour.
Where: The Record Bar
1020 Westport Road
Kansas City, MO 64111
When: Tuesday, December 4th
5:30… 6:00… whenever you can get there
The Record Bar’s dinner special will be Greg’s Per-fuckin-fect Fried Chicken.
*Please repost the happy hour info to help get the word out.
A while back, I saw a post by Alphabitch about how to wax your legs with duct tape. I read that and thought, “Damn, that is crazy… I think I’ll give it a try.” So last week, I got everything ready for the duct tape experiment. I let some hair grow on my calves for a few days. And then I got out the duct tape. Looking at the duct tape and then at my legs, I decided I couldn’t handle this experiment in a sober state. After a couple of glasses of wine, I was ready to go. So I slapped some duct tape on my leg and used Alphabitch’s technique…. and nothing happened. I tried a few more times just to be sure, but no hair ended up on the duct tape, dammit.
Perhaps a have super-strong leg hair, or I need to use stickier duct tape. Either way, I don’t think I’ll try that again any time soon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to remove some leg hair in a more civilized fashion… with hot wax.
This weekend, I went with my friends Gretchen and Stef to the drag show at Missie B’s. We found out that:
1) Country music songs and Diana Ross wigs really don’t go together,
2) The free “shots” they give out during the show are probably grape soda,
3) I can give one hell of a lap dance to Gretchen when she won’t get up to dance.
But my lap dancing skills pale in comparison to those of Greg Beck. One summer night, we were outside on the deck at the Hurricane. Greg went inside for a bit, and I sat down on the edge of the stage to talk to a couple of the bouncers I knew. It was late, and the drinks had been steadily flowing all night. Greg came outside and made a bee line for me. I thought he just wanted a hug, but when he got up to me, he grabbed my legs and threw them to each side. And then he gave me a crazy lap dance. Now people who knew Greg know that he wasn’t a small guy, and he put on quite a show. Some people stopped dancing to stare, the bouncers I was sitting with got off the stage, and the DJ even backed up. Afterwards, Greg decided the night couldn’t get any better, so he left all the speechless bystanders at the bar and headed home.
Damn I miss that man.