Bloody Baptists
My folks are Baptist and don't, can't, really drink. At all. So when my young dad was invited to a big knees up with his construction buddies at Christmas two years in a row, he got completely hammered on cheap Scotch. He weaved home and drunkenly greeted us at the front door with cries of "Preshents!"

First year it was steaks for dinner. (We never got steak-it was our lot to get burgers or dogs) Second year he took all 5 of us out to buy shoes. (we never got shoes all at the same time-he couldn't afford it)

Third year, my mom went and got him before the booze started flowing. Those frickin' carpenters & ironworkers were drinking my poor electrician dad into the poorhouse.

PS I love these stories.
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Mon 28 Feb 2011, 23:26, 2 replies)

You ate dogs?
You sick fuck.
( BraynDedd Natasha Kaplinsky's labia majora, Mon 28 Feb 2011, 23:34, closed)

Dogs lovely - Nom nom!
Tastes like chicken....whaaaat?!
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Tue 1 Mar 2011, 9:41, closed)