It’s been a while since I’ve blogged because work and life have had me over a barrel as of late. But, I was able to alleviate some of the stress during a happy hour thrown by a former coworker and the man who helped me build this site, Steven Murphy, and his roommate Steve Trezza that took place at The Draft House.
They had a party similar to one they had last year at the same bar. This party service was comprised of a free buffet of little chicken wings (yum-o), Italian meatballs, a salad and chips and dip that looked like queso, but did not taste like it. Oh, and also mixed drinks for $3 a pop, which I partook in.
The guy at the door and the one who puts together a party is named Dougy Fresh. No, not the rapper, but a man who resembled Morpheus if he let himself go. The guy was nice enough and was encouraging all who attended to sign in with their name, phone number and e-mail address (which I gave an old one that I don’t check anymore).
I left the happy hour at about 10 pm, but everyone including a bunch of coworkers were having a fun time. I knew once Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” was being sung word for word, it was time to call it a night (only because I had to drive home).
My coworkers may have sang, but I doubt that Dougy Fresh busted a rhyme like his namesake. But, if he did, it would have sounded something like this.
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