My fellow neighborhood tribesmen gathered 'round a local restaurant last night to celebrate a few birthdays in one sitting; had I been there a few candles would have blown too since mine would have been part of the festivities.
It was, from what I hear, one of our typical "Rat Pack" evenings with some of the gents in suits, light cigarellos, and liquor laced and accompanied with a vulgar venacular.
We've always tended to attract smiling faces when we band and bond together. Just something we've been told over the years. Really, it's not that far off a Dean Martin roast. Another, to help you along, example is the 'you think I'm a clown' scene in Goodfellas - without the violence of course. To us, that's a natural setting.
Years ago in university a German girl I amourously "hung out" told me how she and her friends were fascinated watching us in action in class or in a club. We soon became friends hitting all the cool Mtl. spots.
Lately, my inner Bobby Darin has given way to reality. Hence, my absence. It's nice to see the guys still kicking it. I'll be back soon enough.
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