We don't always drink shots and have chips and salsa for dinner on Fridays, but...
Oh wait - yes we do! And when we do, we take turns giving a short toast, with each shot. Notes: 1) We are not toastmasters. 2) We take tiny shots, so coming up with new toasts - especially now that neither of us works in a Vortex of Doom, anymore - can be problematic.
We start small.
[Maris]: To having survived this week - and to surviving this weekEND.
Joe: To paydays!
[M]: To being rescued and returned to our homeworld.
Joe: Yes! And to not leaving a paper trail.
[M]: To Chips-and-Salsa Friday nights.
Joe: Here's to the Garbage Pail Kids (they never lie) - Here's to Transformers, 'cause there's more than meets the eye!
[M]: All shots, all the time!
Joe: Here's to heat pumps.
[M]: TOAST! (Raisin toast, especially)
Joe: To the Patron Spirits Company, makers of the best-tasting rum I've ever had. They make a nice tequila, too.
[M]: To our dinner NOT being made of goat chops, asafoetida, petite French lentils, brownie edges, used tea bags, and quince paste.
Joe: To drinking enough to come up with better toasts - or buttered toast.
[M]: Mmmm... raisin toast?
Joe: Of course. Or, you know, French.
Joe: Your turn.
[M]: Here's to the NL and AL managers of the year (our very own Matt Williams and Buck Showalter).
Joe: To the humans who managed to land a washing-machine-size robot on the surface of a comet, 300 million miles away, after a 9-year flight through space.
[M]: To the Star Trek transporter!
Joe: Here's to finding and/or remembering that ass-hattery quote...
Postscript: We can do so much better. So here's to the fact that so few people will see this, before we have a chance to redo it.