I can say with utmost authority that Firecreek in Downingtown kicks serious, major fucking ass.
Everything was good.
I had meat.
I am happy in my belly.
We went drunken yarn shopping afterward so I could obtain appropriate yarnage for a sweater I'm working on that is awesome. Bob saw the "Pound of Love" skeins in the all and stopped to study them, so I thought.
About two seconds after I bent over to look at a color, it came sailing down the aisle at me and bounced off my hip, landing with a fat THWUNK! on the ground.
There was nothing else to do but stare at amazement at him. I was too drunk and too stunned to do anything else.
He has taken the opportunity to point out that it said it was a pound of love, and he was just being literal....
...I'm still stunned he whipped a giant ball of yarn at me. A giant. Ball. Of yarn.
Oh yeah, also? I had meat. ^_^
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