Tuesday, November 18, 2008
The Chronicles of Sly-dell
So, our rotund buddy took the White Sox fan's extra ticket for the MU game last night. He calls me around 6pm, wondering if I would like to meet him for a beer. Of course, I say yes. Firstly, for some reason, he was at Goolsby's. That was his first mistake. Then, he refused to pick me up because he "had a great parking spot, hehehe." Fucking Costanza. Ok, whatever Sly, I'll meet you down there at 6:20-6:25 at Turner's. So, I barrel into Turner's at 6:25 and head back to the standard northeast corner of the bar where Reid & Sheets' Va Jay Jay are parked. We chitchat, drink and there's no sign of Sly-dell. I'm heading to the end of my Red and, still, no Sly. Now it's 6:55, still no Sly. Ok, whatever, dude's always late, I'll just meet him at the game. So our troika is heading out the door, laughing about where Liedl could be when we hear, "Where the hell were you guys?" Of course, Sly was at the bar the whole time, but neglected to even walk around the bar once to see if we were there amongst the 30 total people. No call, no text, not even a walk around the bar. Sly-dell is the only person on earth that could miss 3 of his best friends sitting 25 feet away from him in an empty bar. He has the field vision of Tavarious Jackson. Ah, snap!!