"Read 'Em and Weep, The Dead Man's Hand Again"

It's a Hair Band Friday for the ages, folks. The day started out quite demurely. I was doing some unbelievable legal research, which I'll admit was getting some of the ladies pretty hot. But then the news of the US Men's Curling team's Bronze Medal victory over the Brits came across the news wire, and this place went nuts. I was drinking champagne of this random chick's stomach, right before she drank it off mine. We totally made out afterward. Then she stripped and I painted her bronze, and I've been carrying her around my shoulders ever since. Bill walked into my office with a draft of a motion that he wanted me to edit, and then he totally nailed this chick who kept asking him to "bring the hammer," an obvious reference to the curling term referring to the last stone thrown in an end. Needless to say, he threw his stones into her end. I couldn't believe they both fit. It was kind of disgusting, actually. Jade and Lexi, two of the strippers that regularly hang out here on Fridays, were snorting coke off of each other's asses. Simultaneously. A couple others are engaging in your run-of-the-mill halcion-induced auto-erotic asphyxiation. My newly installed hot tub is full of drunk naked chicks performing sex acts on each other with curling brooms. The last three songs roaring from my speakers have been gems: Gorky Park's "Bang," Motorhead's hard-charging "Ace of Spades," and the Scorpions classic, "Big City Nights." The way it's looking right now, this party could go on for days, and I wouldn't be surprised if all of us some how end up in a Bemidji, Minnesota jail before it's all said and done. Long live curling!