Monday, July 07, 2008
Grunt! Belch! Fart! 'Twas Man Night.
If there's one meal that I look forward to every year, it's the one that's served on Man Night. During that magical night, the ladies go off to dinner and a play, leaving the menfolk alone for a few hours. Uncle Chuck prepares a feast: 1.5" thick steaks, grilled potatoes, wedge salad, and grilled Texas toast. As usual, this year it was pure, manly, artery-clogging heaven.
Afterwards under the stars, we broke out cigars and pipes and rambled off our "best artists/albums/songs" in a variety of musical categories while classic rock radio filled the air.
It really doesn't get any better than that. Well, maybe if there was a hot chick on my lap. But then it wouldn't be Man Night, now would it?
Labels: beach bummery, food
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ahh, such are the conundrums of "Man Night."
don't get me wrong, women are great and everything, but I think I'd choose man night...that sounded straighter in my head.
jasdye - Yes, it is quite the conundrum, indeed.
dr. zeius - Hmmmm. My suspicions that you had a little bit too good of a time in Savannah are now confirmed.
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