Portland and Seattle, Prepare Thy-Beer-and-Coffee-Swilling-Selves

Yes, indeed.

The Larry in Wonderland Tour will be stopping in Portland on Thursday and Seattle on Friday.

Come by and see for yourself whether I look like the degenerate I portray myself to be.

Heck, I’ll even draw in your book (depending on the beer you bring me).

For more info, click HERE.

And now enjoy this grunge version of me, twenty years too late.

Drunken Finns Are Falling Down

It was midnight when the first Finn fell.

“What was that?” I asked the guy next to me.

“The fellow behind you just fell,” he said.  “He drank too much.”

Someone helped him up.  I went back to drinking.

Ten minutes later, I heard another crash.

“What was that?” I asked the guy next to me.

“The guy by the door just fell,” he said.  “He drank too much.”

I watched as the fellow tried to get to his feet.  I grabbed another beer.

And fifteen minutes later, another crash.

This time I saw it.  An old guy fell right in front of me.  Took out a table and two chairs.

“What the hell is going on in this country?” I asked the guy next to me.

“Here, people drink until they fall,” he said.  “Then they drink more.”

A half hour went by.  There were no more falls.

I was beginning to think something was wrong.

“It’s been half an hour,” I said to the guy next to me. “I think you guys are improving.”

He tried to respond, but couldn’t.

Because a woman fell into his bar stool.

Four Finns in one hour.  It was a remarkable run.

It was them against Newton’s law of gravity, and Newton was winning.

So I tried to figure it out.

And it all comes down to my dad’s bowling ball.

You see, when I was a kid, I used to take the ball out of my Dad’s bowling bag and set it on the garage floor.  Then I would try to stand on top of it.

And every time I tried, I fell.

The same goes for Finland.

They’re at the top of our bowling-ball shaped globe.

And it’s hard to stand there.

By the next night, I was taking bets on how many Finns would fall in the bar.  I guessed five.

Remarkably, none did.

I walked back to my hotel, disappointed I had lost the bet.  Deep in thought, I walked into the hotel lobby.

I really had to go to the bathroom and didn’t think I could quite make it to the one in my hotel room, so I searched for the lobby bathroom.

“It’s that way,” said the guy at the lobby desk, “Down that half-flight of stairs.”

So I walked over there.

And fell down the stairs.