Metal pipes respectively delivering beer and music.Note to self: 't Keizertje has great jazz on Saturday nights.
On Saturday night, after watching Barcelona beat Real Madrid 2-0 on the pub telly, went to a hippy party at someone's house. No one at the party actually knew who the host was, but the house was well-decorated with psychedelic art, well-stocked with food and drinks, sounded like Beatles music, and filled with children of the flower wearing tie-dye and thin headbands.While I was talking to some people for a good hour, I noticed a stench. I thought perhaps it might be the incense candles, but it was too putrid for that; I even thought it was someone's breath as it smelt like bad saliva. Finally one of us broke the hush and mentioned the smell. We were all relieved to hear that each of us were not the only one to hate that odor. It turned out that the smell came from a whip, made from dead cow, that someone had received as a gift from Darfur. He could not have just thrown it out so he had left it on the couch. Dead cow! Why would you carry that around with bare hands?! ...let alone leave it prominently in the middle of a party!? As soon as it was removed, clear, fresh Woodstock meadow flowed back into the room.
Thorsten's face says it all.
Some guy doing a forward roll for no reason at all.
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