The kitchen of nearly any restaurant is where all of the various parts of society who weren’t interested in or had too much of a criminal record for an office job decided to coalesce, yell at each other, be around scalding heat, and talk about women.
The “I just got laid” feeling is coveted by many. We want to experience it all the time, we want to drown in it, but we can’t always get what we want now can we? When you do get your wish granted though, you’ll do strange things like decide to walk home in a vicious snowstorm or call your grandma.
I don’t realize what’s happening. By now she’s manic, and there’s a hand wrapped way too tightly around my crotch, yanking it just about out of its socket.
Often pronounced “vokka shots,” this is undeniably the entry into the part of the night where things are getting just a little bit too awesome, and you might have to start screaming at the DJ to play a certain song.
You’d essentially have to have lived under some enormous, wifi-less rock for the last four or five years to not know who Phelps is, but just in case you are really that uninformed about the pinnacle of human achievement and physical prowess that is the Olympic Games, let me inform you.