Pay no attention to the blood-sucking machines behind … pay attention to the happy Hamm’s Hat winner!
Who loves The Rail?
I do, I do!! Yaaaaaaaay, Rail!
Ah — twas the night before Thanksgiving, and all through the bar, not a creature was stirring, not even a, uh … um.
Ummmm … oh fuck it.
Anyway, it was a wonderful Wednesday night at The Rail. With a four-day weekend for most on the horizon, everyone was having a good time. Various folks brought in food, which was pretty damn awesome. River Rat once again was the lucky recipient of a Hamm’s Hat, so here’s me making sure it is ready for deployment.
After determining said headpiece was of a sound and robust nature, I handed it back to River Rat who seemed at a bit of a loss what to do with his new-found chapeau. Seeing as it was the holidays, I offered my assistance and got down to work.
And here we go:
And now for the back-side …
both of us all of us some of us a handful of us us at Hamm’s Hat Dot Com, Happy Thanksgiving! (Albeit a few days late.)
A quandry indeed, so I kinda went for a Little Bunny Foo-Foo sorta thang. Note the down-turned ear.
A hip, a hop, a hippity hop …
And there you have it.
And while I’m at it, a big congratulatory congratulations to Bandana and Hot Pockets on their beautiful wedding ceremony (clocked in at under fifteen minutes) and reception (clocked in at … uh … I can’t remember.)
So here I am trying to do the Superman thing. (Pay no attention to the fact that my legs are vertical, or that they are in contact with the floor.) I was kinda going for some kind of wind-tunnel hat thing, but it didn’t really pull off like I had hoped.
Here I am banking right …
… and now I’m flying to the jukebox so I can use my X-ray eyeballs to burn a hole in that insidious diabolical contraption from hell. But I digress. (No I don’t — I hate that fucking thing. I’d rather play the ATM machine.)
So the other day, we were sitting around at “the other bar”, when Hoss’ sharp eye caught a glimpse of bright yellow yonder in one corner. After close inspection, it was discovered that this was Boilermaker’s jacket that he had apparently left behind after a long night of
drinking his brains out carousing amicably with his fellow cohorts. The hilarious thing about this jacket is that at first glance, it looks like some twenty year-old hand-me-down that mom made you wear to school and all your friends made fun of you. What’s even more bizarre, is that, and I shit you not, it’s “Ralph Lauren.” Duane (aka Purple Aces, who by the way is about 132 years old and could still bench press your ass) made the astute observation that when he once spotted Matt wearing it downtown one day, that our beloved Boilermaker looked like a mini-schoolbus walking down the sidewalk.
And with no further ado, I present to you, Matt’s Jacket: A Study in Sartorial Excellence.
Here’s Hoss, our intrepid spelunker who discovered the beast.
And Bermuda, taking the scholarly approach …
Hideout, who looks like he’s about to turn into a yellow bat and flitter away …
Frank, who looks like he’s just about to bust open …
Brick, who for some inexplicable reason decided that the jacket wasn’t complete without a large jar on his head …
And last but not least, yours truly, WEARING A HAMM’S HAT! I told you it was worth it.
No word yet on whether Boilermaker knows this has all gone down …
[UPDATE: Boilermaker apparently now knows this has all gone down.]
So word on the street is that there’s a 30-pack of Hamm’s in the Brass Rail cooler. What does this all mean? It’s not clear. The plan is to have a meeting of the Board of Directors to discuss the implications and ramifications of a 30-pack of Hamm’s. More girth? Wider nose guard? Bigger lapels? I’m sure it will all work out. We’re a clever bunch in that regard. Meanwhile, happiness prevails.