This we can blame on my family. The specific twig of the family tree which branched out into inventing the Grinch drinking game is, alas, lost to history, but we are all proud of him, from the tall to the small.
The procedure is simple. You lay out a tray of shot glasses filled with shots. You take one every time they say “Hoo”.
They say it eighteen times in the theme song, which they sing three times throughout the show.
No-0ne can ever remember who won.
For all those writers, publishers, editors, bloggers, and journalists out there. Forget the office party and come drink with The Shebeen Club tomorrow night at the Irish Heather!
We’ll be upstairs in the Reading Room this time, at the Irish Heather in Gastown, 217 Carrall Street in Gastown, from 7-9pm. No cover, order off the menu and enjoy the best damn gastropub in the West!
Twas the day before Tuesday, when all through downtown
The email went out inviting Shebeeners down
To the Heather on Tuesday the 19th: tomoz!
For a drink and a nosh and tales of Santa Claus.
We’ll have a fun evening, no lectures to hear,
From seven ’til nine, just a-drinking our beer!
With Lorraine with Grinch earrings and a Santa hat,
You can come as you are, or all dressed up in spats.
And down in the kitchen arises a bashing
The chef is meat grilling and potato mashing.
Order straight off the menu and pay what you nosh
Tear into the butter, and the whiskies quite posh.
“Now Writers! Now Students!
Now, Publishers many!
Come, Poets! Come, Bloggers!
Come, Booksellers, merry!
To the Reading Room of the Heather
At the top of the stairs!
Now party on! Party on!
Don’t put on airs!
We’ll read Chrismas stories, and tell our tall tales
So drop in for a bevvy; I’ll tell about the old jail.
The Heather was lockup in decades gone by
So come down, serve your time drinking Guinness and rye.
I think we all know what a 45-degree angle looks like. And we know what a slope, dropping down at 45 degrees looks like. Like fun skiing, like nasty winter driving, like…
the stats for my blog ever since the Internet went out at my house.
Oh, they’ll recover, I suppose. It’s just a wee titch annoying that once I’d (or rather, you’d) finally cranked the hits up to almost 2k a day, Mother Nature (just as much of a bitch as my biological mother, and quite possibly as big a bitch as my stepmother, although it must be admitted, somewhat less likely to sell off my family heirlooms to purchase dreadful antiques and very definitely less likely to stencil cows with gingham aprons all around the ceiling of any rooms; Mother Nature prefers her cows with all four hooves firmly on the ground, except when she likes to send them flying in windstorms, which brings us back to why I still have no internet and why Mother Nature is a bitch).
God hates blogs.
This is sheer brilliance! Unfortunately, as Gawker reports, it’s not an actual sign but an ad, an ad which Entertainment Weekly refuses to run, thus endangering at least 50% of Hollywood over the holiday season. I wonder how long before some wag at Whistler puts these up just for the hell of it?
Snowglobes: no laughing matter! Betcha anything Canadian Tire will be stocking Therma-Curves before the winter is out.
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Technorati me!
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