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.
[M]:  Yay!
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.
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