last night was insane. went to see ivan neville's dumpstaphunk at the parish. lee and scott (wingpeople) it was a funky good time. danced in the front until drunken las vegas housewife, jabbed her sloshy spiked heel directly into the destroyed foot. did some sitting after that, but still feelin' really funky. great band. really positive messages. disgusting jb's medley. and learned the mantra, that whenever something is getting you down in life with whatever... you just 'put it in tha dumpsta'. left the funk behind, had some drinks at a bar, where lee and i lapped spilt whisky off the cover of a chronicle like basset hounds. drove back to scott's, drank more. scott talked me into snorting hydracodone. horrible idea. i'm still extracting hydra c boogers. (don't judge me) played poker when hugo joined us from work. everyone did their best catwalk moves. hugo took the cake. belligerent crew of drunks at magnolia. didn't eat any of my food. went back to hugos at 8am and passed out after he made us some sort of weird yogurt beverage. in the morning the yogurt had separated from the alcohol. putrid. smoothies put color back in my face. just woke up half hour ago. these are the nights we'll forget forever.
2 comments:
always entertaining. always.
I'd forgotten the catwalk off. Damn that Hugo and his male model ways. Other highlights: Scott eating queso and then refusing to have a bite of food because it had cheese on it. Hugo taking me down immediately with Indian Leg wrestling. The throwing off of belts. Comparison of who's belly button was higher. Delicious pasta friend meal. And yes, that lapping of Maker's off the soaked Chronicle. A night of mischief and awesomeness. These are the daaaaaays...
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