The scene: time warp to 6th grade. The menu: 90 million permutations of the "old man's poison." The fun: profanity and sexual innuendo. The vibe: live piano crooning that would throw Chopin into a fit of nausea. The question: why was I there?
That I can't answer. I don't drink. Parlor music makes me sick. And the combo of cussing and crude sex talk reminds me of the elementary boy's bathroom. The moral of this story: never accept an invitation to a shady, low-brow cavern even if your entire class of soon to be "doctor" friends will be there to celebrate the end of the anatomy class from hell.
The remedy: Divine Mercy Sunday. Only God's grace can cleanse my soul's palate after last night's entree of neandarthal "fun."
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Was it THAT bad, son?
yep. afraid so.