Happy birthday, Jester!!

[Cookie]

Happy birthday!

[Sonoma]

Happy Birthday, Young'n.

I had the pleasure of turning 40 3 1/2 months ago

[Mishi]

Happy Birthday Jester, hope you have a great day!

[RavenStarr]

Happy Birthday!

[JustaCashier]

Let's see, it's now 9:25 pm PDT, so that's 12:25 am Jester time.

I wonder if we're gonna get a Drunken Jester post showing up here in a few hours!

Mike

[Plaidman]

I've sent him a text earlier, but he didn't respond.

Me think he getting time of life.

[NiennasMaid]

Happy Birthday!!

[ParkingWitch]

Happy Birthday

[El Pollo Guerrera]

Happy (belated) Birthday!

[tropicsgoddess]

Another late ringer.....Happy Belated B-day, Jester!!! Party up, dude!!!!

[Jester]

Found Jester's beer: Shmaltz Brewing Company:
He’Brew: The Chosen Beer

Genesis Ale
Messiah Bold
Origin Pomegranate String Ale
Bittersweet Lenny’s R.I.P.A.
Rejewvenator
Jewbelation

Coney Island Craft Lagers:

Coney Island Lager
Mermaid Pilsner
Swordswallower
Albino Python
Human Blockhead
Freaktoberfest

Votes on which is the best match? (for Jester)

I tried a couple of the He'Brew beers (Genesis Ale and Messiah Bold) at the Fort Lauderdale Beer Fest in April. They were okay, but nothing really all that special. Never heard of the Coney Island Craft Lagers, though.

And by the way, why would these be "my" beers? Because I am of Jewish descent? Please. Jews can't make wine worth a fuck (have you ever tasted Manishewitz?!?!), and from my limited experience, their beer is only decent.

While it may offend some of my relatives, I would much rather have a nice German beer, like Paulaner, Frankziskaner, Tucher, or Spaten.

May you do plenty of this....... (But not to the extent of doing this..... ) And maybe even find a hot chick for a little of this.....

I did.
I don't.
I didn't.

Yes, I drank quite a bit. But I Do Not Puke from alcohol. Think I'm exaggerating? Since my 21st birthday 19 years ago, INCLUDING my 21st birthday, I have puked a grand total of 3 times from alcohol. 3 times. In 19 years. One of them being the big Two One. I. Don't. Puke. I just pass the fuck out before my body gets a chance to puke.

As for the chickadee....no such luck. I had two "missions" yesterday. One was to make out with a hot chick. I failed miserably. Never even got close. It was almost ridiculously sad. One chick that I've been interested in who was going to come drinking with us had a family emergency. Another chick that I am somewhat interested that said she might come out texted me to tell me she was at the movies. Pretty much told me where I stood with her, huh? Our waitress at dinner, who I thought was cute and nice and who I invited to come join us when she got off work, proved my friends Little Red and Shotgun right, since they told me she was just being polite and would not come out or call or text. She didn't.

The second mission? To call any douchebags I saw being douchebags on their douchebaggery. I was determined to rip a new one out of anyone I saw being an ass to their server or bartender. Naturally I didn't see anyone doing this. The only douchebag I dealt with all day happened in the afternoon. Little Red and I were tooling down Duval Street (the main drag) in the scooter car I had for the day (I was playing tourist during the day). We got behind these two clueless chicks on bicycles. Now, if you're riding a bike down a street, either stick to the right hand side of the road, or if you are going to be in traffic, go the speed of the traffic. This one braindead wench was riding down the middle of the street at the breakneck pace of a pregnant and crippled turtle, admiring the sites, clueless about anything outside her own little world. Had I been in the Jestermobile, I would have just run her the fuck over. Then again, had I been in the Jestermobile, I never would have driven down Duval Street. But I was playing tourist, so was in my silly little scooter car. So, when we got behind this little princess, I tooted the horn. She looked back at us, and then went back to riding down the middle of the street at .05646 miles per hour. Frozen molasses was passing her. So I went off. "Hey! Move it! You're not a fucking car! Just because your ass as as wide as one doesn't count!"

People on the sidewalk laughed.

Let's see, it's now 9:25 pm PDT, so that's 12:25 am Jester time.

I wonder if we're gonna get a Drunken Jester post showing up here in a few hours!

Verdict is no.....hope you can accept a Hungover Jester posting in its place.

Edited to Add: Forgot to mention that, as I had been threatening/promising/vowing to do for months, for my 40th birthday, I shaved off the goatee. Considering I have only been cleanshaven a total of 12 weeks in the last 12 years, this was pretty impressive to many people, many of whom have never seen my naked chin. I do not look 40 with the goatee. Without it? Please, bitch. Not even close.

[Jester]

New mystery developing.

Now, I have no idea how I got home last night. I know I didn't drive. I assumed I took a cab.

But I just talked to my friend Frank, and he said a bunch of women were calling him last night around 2 am as they were putting me in a cab, trying to find out my address from him. This is odd, as Little Red knows damn well where I live. But maybe she was off with her new boy toy, The Cook Dork. I hope so. He's better than her usual array of douchebags.

But back to the story: Frank said that Smiley called, which makes sense, she was with me. But also that one of the girls calling was "Anna [Last Name]." To which I said:

WHO?!??!

I do not recognize the name at all. I know one Anna in town, and she works where Frank works, and we weren't there. I haven't the foggiest fucking clue who this Anna is, nor how I know her. I checked my phone. No new contacts listed as "Anna" anything.

So, who's Anna? How do I know her? How did she get Frank's number? And what, if anything, happened?

Naturally, neither Smiley nor Little Red are answering their phones this morning.

Makes me think of that song "Alice" that so many musicians down here like playing in the bars, and at certain points in the song, the crowd screams "Alice! Alice! Who the fuck is Alice?"

So I wonder. Anna! Anna! Who the fuck is Anna?!?!?!?!

[dalesys]

...So I wonder. Anna! Anna! Who the fuck is Anna?!?!?!?!

Paquin? And you don't remember? Bummer!

[Jester]

Sadly, no. Not Paquin. Frank had her last name, and it was definitively not Paquin.

Thank god. The only thing worse than not making out with Anna Paquin would be making out with Anna Paquin and not fucking remembering it!

[Jester]

My best guess is that maybe Anna was a bartender at the bar I was at, but holy shit, how did she get Frank's phone number? And why was I so incapacitated that several women were calling Frank?

And seriously, who the fuck is Anna??!?!?!?

I hate shit like this.

Last thing I remember was being at the Alamo (Yes, I remember the Alamo--it's a bar here--shut the fuck up).

What the FUCK happened?

And who is Anna? Am I engaged? Is she pregnant? TELL ME! I MUST KNOW! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY ON HEAVEN AND EARTH, TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT AND WHO THE FUCK THIS ANNA CHICK IS!!!!!!!
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