Some people work 8 hour shifts and are worn out. Others work 10 or 12 hour ones. But any muthufucker that works a 16 hour shift plum deserves to do whatever in sam hell he or she damn well pleases the rest of the week. That brings me to friday, where I was baited into a brief lunch outting that turned into an all day and damn near all night c’mon feet extravaganza. I just got out of a meeting and a friend called and asked if I wanted to grab some food. I was famished, and to make a long segue short, I found myself otg within the hour. That said, the remainder of the work day was a wash, I called in -due to some sort of ’stomach virus’- so my fellow footsoldier and I could let the wind of thirst blow us where it may.

How did I end up OTG during the mid-day? Peer pressure plus a inner desire to decompress from a long day. Ok, ok, how did I end up OTG mid-day? Because a ridiculously thick woman walked by (who seemed to have the same affect on two other guys a bit further down the block) and was literally responsible for my taking at least 3 shots in one fatal swig. A short while later, I found myself on an unofficial pub crawl that featured everything from growns to the coining of the new phrase, ‘mind if I stretch out’.

Me and Db got to the 1st pub that was teeming with wait staff that justified the high price of the drinks. Though we weren’t able to get in good with any of them, some growns ran up on us (I’ll leave it to the Doc to define that shit) and than had our sails filled in no time. She approached with the line, “is that guy over there really wearing black socks with gym shoes?”….Lol, which made me realize that us men don’t get enough credit for approaching women in civil, gentlemanly fashion (big ups to Black Mamba for that educational and timely piece regarding send-offs, by the way). Obviously, most guys would be fine w/it if women can just come over and sat the fuck down. She ended up sitting down and we chatted, and DB choraled her friend before she could toss them wrenches. But in true send-off fashion, once her ‘group’ arrived, she bounced out hard to be with them. I tried to ignore the whole ordeal and brush it off I saw her letting some whaaaack dude get at her. Enter: mind if I stretch out. At this point I simply smashed the rest of my strong island drink, and took a loong ass stride into the sphere where the dude and her were talking, put an arm around her all familiar like and made a quick joke that made her laugh before asking for her number loudly and making sure my phone was in full view. She gave me the number and I looked at ol’ dude, like, “what? we do like this here. ‘mind if I stretch out”…(I’m sure Doc will define this shit too, so be easy ya’ll..but the shit is funny, I promise). So I proceeded to stretch out on dudes almost the entire night, getting some good, spring-ready numbers in the process.

I’ll pass along more notes from the night once I catch up on all the work I missed from getting to sleep at 6 am saturday morning…yes, that was after leaving for lunch dammit. In the meantime, I deserve to do whatever I damn well please this week.

Cheers ya’ll,

Bruce Banner