You might burn, but I’m cool
If I offend you with this, lick my balls.
In Greenville, probably the place to be on a Sunday night is Ham’s Brewery. It’s got a huge outside dining area, that open-mic-type music for which 
I am fond and cheap booze ($2 in-house brews and $2.25 hi-balls). I was there last night, and, let me tell you, it was as hopping as any place I’ve been in the past few weeks. Guys, if you’re looking for a place to see some of Greenville’s finest women, it’s no doubt the place to be. Zoom in on my brother getting a little play at the brew house.
But many of those women, and most of the guys, seem to come with a catch — a
catch I’m not too fond of. Should you get a chance to lock lips with one of the opposite sex, they’re most likely going to taste like tar and tobacco. I can’t recall the number of times I thought to myself, only this Sunday, “Damn, she’s too hot to smoke.” It’s absolutely absurd. Why do all of you 20-sumthin’s smoke? What makes you, say, at the age of 14 light up that first cigarette and puff it up? Were you than insecure at that age that lighting a cancer stick was the only way you felt you could fit in? Dorks. Sure, I do my fair share of harmful things. I’m a sucker for a cheeseburger. But, damn, a cheeseburger tastes good. Does your Marlboro? I don’t think so. So, how is it so many people still fire one up every chance they get? I’m a pretty smart guy … and I still can’t get it. Someone, please tell me. Quick, before I kiss yet another tar face.
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