Last night was my baby brother's bachelor party. On the agenda included dinner at Fat Albert's in fabulous downtown Gridley followed by a night of bar hopping around the surrounding small towns via party bus. My brother referred to it as the Midwest Lunchbox Tour, and for those of you who don't know what a Lunchbox is (as in the drink, not a meal carrying case) then you probably don't have any idea how ominous that title is.
I didn't attend, obviously, but thanks to the glory of technology I was able to get an update or two during the night from the comfort of my home over 60 miles from the action. The night was set to start around 6 pm. At 11:30 pm, a mere five and a half hours and two rounds of Lunchboxes later, I got this phone call update from The General:
"He's done. Already."
And then, because he loves me and knows I'm always searching for blog material, The General had my brother's childhood friend (my other "brother") send this picture directly to my email inbox via text as evidence that my brother is a complete and total lightweight.
Not even making it to midnight, Poke? For shame.