Since the juxtaposition of incongruous nouns (and few adjectives and stray adverbs) is a historic trademark of our Founding Farters, I would like to raise a glass to those who fell down drunk before us, and will do again, behind us, and probably at the big white telephone around the back.
I give you...my very own local, from downtown East Grinstead...the renowned
Gargoyle and Spigot.
Anybody else got a favorite local? i have a few more ;)
Well, no Pubs about in the Mexican Wilderness but I hae a fondness for Herquerto's Hong Kong Mexican Cantina and chop suey bar. It has a full line up of Tequila and beer only. Bring your own cheap wine
I might have put it in the give to the needy box. I wish I hadn't thrown it out. However, it might be in that dressing table drawer that won't open because it's stuck. If I ever get that drawer unstuck, and it's still in there, or if the white one with the red ribbons is still in there, because that one was naughtier, I'll put it on and find me a pub for old folks like me, and I'll drink a cup of what the heck do you drink in a pub?
How about in the olden days (1950's ish) when women had to wear hats when going to church (Catholic), so they'd just plop a tissue/Kleenex on their head!
I have plenty to put in a bustier, just that I'm so old and stupid and ugly, that it doesn't matter. There. Feel better now, mrsthing? That must have been very olden days with a tissue on their head. I went to a Catholic church sometimes with a friend of mine, and they had to cover their heads, but she used a type of hanky with lace around it. I didn't put anything on my head, because I was the guest who would read the Latin part that the Priest was supposed to read because I would get confused which part was for the congregation and which part was his, and I would be concentrating on those Latin words, because I had two years of Latin and was proud I could read them. So my friend was always going, Shhhh! Shhhh! Shhhh!, and then they'd stand up just as I sat down, and they'd sit down just as I was standing up.
I had an experience like that in an Anglican church where a good friend of mine is a choir director. We visited one Sunday, and it happened to be the Sunday the Bishop was there. It was straight out of a Monty Python sketch, with him parading around in his silly costume with his hands folded just so on his belly, and 4 or 6 sycophants following behind with lots of gold and brocade and utter NONSENSE! He turned out to be a really nice, down-to-earth guy. Said he hated all the fal-de-ral, but when you're Bishop, you don't get to choose. I liked him, but I could never go to that church, because you had to balance your bulletin, prayer book, and hymnal, and know when to use each one. TOO CONFUSING! I can't kneel anymore, anyway. Arthritic knees.