Today marks the birthday of a great friend. This blog knows him as Chet, Tad, or Barton Keyes. As usual, he has decided to celebrate in seclusion, but at least this year he gave me fair warning that he was going into hiding. I kind of wonder what he's afraid would happen if we were to actually celebrate his birth in person. Perhaps he turns into some sort of werewolf of golem once a year and goes into his secret lair to protect his friends. Or maybe it's just a massive coke bender. Who knows? Only the mysterious cadre he's going out of town with.
I kid, I kid! Happy birthday, man. Where would Baby and I be without you? Stuck with nobody to help us move, is where. Also, my addiction to trucker speed would have surely spiraled out of control by now, and there would be no fine whiskey in my liquor cabinet.
Don't break anything on the slopes.
UPDATE: Apparently Tad killed the bottle of Dickel's last time he was at my house. Damn! At least some people are easy to shop for.
um hon...? there isn't any fine whiskey in the liquor cabinet (aka the top of the fridge). sorry.
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