Richmond will see a bit of rain this weekend as the clouds move in, by which time me and my buddies will be up a couple hundy, talking up to a bunch of beautiful babies at the casino. Who’s the big winner? Who’s the big winner? Standing right in front of you.
Ladies and gentlemen: my best friend, Mikey Peters, everybody, round of applause.
Expect a wet afternoon and cooler temperatures into Saturday night as a cold front glides in from the east, the direction I point, here, with my finger, for you to get me a malt Glen Englin or Murray McDavid on the rocks, your choice on the scotch. Easy on the water, darling, easy on the water. Hey tell me, what’re you doing after this? Don’t answer that. You just go bring us a quick round of drinks – here’s a 20 spot – and gather up all your little bunnies, then come meet us gents for martinis after your shift’s over. C’mon baby, we don’t bite. Hey sugar, don’t give me that look, you know you’re beautiful.
That’s the smile I’m looking for.
As the work week rolls in we’ll see springlike temperatures so you can leave the coat at home, though I’ll be taking mine out tonight. Pretty honeys like a good jacket, know what I’m saying? I don’t think you do. Let me tell you something, let me tell you something: be a bad man. The babies love that shit, Mikey, they love it. Be a bear with claws and a big growl and teeth that gnaw like you’re pullin’ a salmon from a river, and the salmon just tries to break free, but she can’t, and she tries to swim hard against the current, hard as she can, hard as she can, but it’s of no use, you know why?
Because you’re so money and you don’t even know it. Let them know you’re bad. Now let’s get out of here. I want to pull myself a Fredo.