For those who don’t know, tribute bands are bands that dress and perform like a famous band. It’s basically for people who are too cheap to go see the real thing. [Pointing discreetly at husband.]
First was an Eagles band, and then an excellent AC/DC band. The final band, Guns 4 Roses started at 10:00 p.m.
Hey, bet you can't guess which band Guns 4 Roses pays homage to. Hint: It‘s not Aerosmith.
Anyway, by this time, some of the people at the festival were pretty toasted.
And by toasted, I mean drunk as hell, shit-faced, sloshed, plastered, juiced, three sheets to the wind.
And no, this is not an autobiography. Assholes.
The dude who is the focus of this post was all of the above, and probably some I couldn’t think of. I think he may have also been a crackhead, except he wasn’t skinny. Maybe he’s new at being a crackhead, and just hasn’t lost the weight yet. Hmmmmm.
So, after watching the drunk for a while, I thought of you, my bloggy friends, and whipped out my camera. Here is a series of photos, along with a narrative by yours truly (that’s me!).
|Let's show some skin and get it started up in this mo-fo!|
|He's gonna do a trick! He's gonna do a trick!|
|Eh, never mind. He's just gonna hold up that pole for now.|
|Whoa! Somebody moved the damn sidewalk!|
|That's right, buddy. Drink a little more. #nothelpful|
|"Young man, there's no need to feel down|
I said young man, pick yourself off the ground."
AC/DC sang that, right?
|Drop it like it's HOT!|