Ol' Bean

I was out with my good friend, British Dave, last Saturday, and it had been some time since we cruised about Brooklyn and made a proper night of it. What makes Dave such a wonderful ol' bean is that he is the very model of depravity, which coupled with a British accent equals charm. In Brooklyn it wasn't the same if we didn't go out at least once a week and discuss UFC, drink some PBRs, and just talk like a couple of seventh grade boys who had seen their first boobs. We would go out early and generally have the patio area to ourselves, but the great thing about Dave was that regardless of what type of people began to fill in around us within earshot, he never cleaned up his stories to make sure that "polite society" wasn't appalled and sickened by his past. And of course there was the night we went out and met some Irish soccer goons who described the girl Dave was talking to as having a face "like a sack full of hammers"(and don't get me wrong Dave is as loyal as it comes in terms of his wife, he just needed an audience for a story)and I heard him finish his story with a line so disgusting that I cannot print in here. The girl got up, said "that's it" and was gone. Brilliant. One of my favorites. So for him to get embarrassed by something his best man said at his wedding--something about his "quality control" at university and that they should have installed a...well never mind. Just look at the picture above and it should clear things up. It was only fitting then that our evening last week ended with Dave telling a story to a young woman about how a man with no arms and legs sucked a mint out of is hand, and her saying that it was nice talking to us before promptly leaving. Last time she approaches two drunk, scrappy characters for some small talk. Toot toot!