You and Me and the Bottle Makes Bleed

So I was at the farewell shin-dig for two betrothed gentlemen, whom we call "the Daves." The Daves are getting married on the same day, both to women named Sara.

I sat there drinking my old timey sarsaparilla, discussing the fact that there were no women of ill repute at such bachelor parties, when I realized that there is no way I could break that bottle over someone's head, ala Jackie Chan movies. (I use Jackie Chan movies because he is on my Carl's Jr. coke.)

When I pointed this out, it was realized that you were more likely to bloody someone's head with the thing long before it broke. And if it did break, it would break at the weakest point, the neck of the bottle where you are holding it.

So there you would stand, bloody handed looking as retarded as you are holding the neck of a busted bottle.

Then I was sad inside, because I knew that I would never get to break a bottle open on the end and threaten a rapscallious bar fighter with it.