...On The FOURTH Day Of Christmas...

...my true love gave to me...4 blatantly-ripping-off-a-popular-60's-British-band-and-disguising-them-as-vultures-like-no-one-will-catch-on birds...



Stupid Bird 1: Hey Flaps, So what we're going to do?
Stupid Bird 2: I don't know, what'cha wanna do?
Stupid Bird 1: Look Flaps, first I say "what we're going to do?" then you say "I don't know, what'cha wanna do?" then I say "what we're we going to do?" then you say what'cha wanna do?". Let's do something.
Stupid Bird 2: Ok. What'cha wanna do?

That sounds a lot like the conversations that happen here on the weekends. Except not with crappy Liverpudlian accents. And no one wears the latest style of zany Beatle mop top hairdos. And with more arguing ("why do I always have to decide?".) And eventually swearing (Goddammit, why do I always have to decide?!") And then we waste an hour because no one can decide where exactly to go, because it's a unanimous vote that this area sucks and who the hell wants to go to some meathead jock bar and no good bands ever come to this area except the local teenage "punk rock" bands that are so bad that it makes jebus cry and they have to play in under 21 joints and good GOD I'd rather give myself a home colonoscopy using salad forks and a rear view mirror than go to a "bar" with no alcohol but the other alternative is going to see a craptastic country music cover band with some randomly generic and stupid name like "Wilde Heartz" or "Cuntree Hunee" and then we talk about how one day we're going to open a swanky tiki lounge-y bar that also has 80's night that will be more excellent than any swanky tiki lounge bar that has 80's night ever has been but for now, let's just go to the dive we always go to and eat free popcorn and listen to Motorhead on the jukebox because they haven't updated the records in the jukebox since 1987 anyway, and a great time will be had by all. Other than that, we're exactly like those damn Jungle Book vultures. Huzzah for dysfunctional weekend time being spent wisely!