So I passed out on xanax. I had some antibiotics. Things happen Anyway, I woke up and there was a party to go to. We knew one person, but that's all you really need. We get there, there might be 15 people, and college football is happening on the t.v. Not mindblowing. So we me and Steve here decide to drink their alcohol in large quantities. Somebody had to be interesting right? So we get drunk and we decide, hey we have sharp semi-choreographed dance moves, and this place is going nowhere fast. The Mae Shi techno remix is put on and we bust out the moves.
Merriwether Post Pavillion does not deserve a 9.6.So we dance, and we dance well. Everyone is generally amused, the shirts come off and come back on, everything you might expect. And then some dude from another rooom struts up and says,"I don't live here, but I'm the only one not pussy enough here to tell you that you're no longer welcome." Crude, eh? He said he had nothing against us personally (and no logical grounds to kick us out) but that we should leave. We tried to reason with them, but it's not like we could tell them they were dull and embarrassingly boring people. So we left.
We went to the apartment where the person we originally knew resided. We were offered multiple intoxicants when someone received a phone call saying they felt really bad about kicking us out, so much so that they wanted us back. Who can turn that down? At least we could fuck with'em right?
So we go back and knock on the door. The response we received was what we shall call exceccively hostile.
"What are you fuckers doing here? Didn't you understand the first time you're not wanted here? You know I used to be an indie kid too."
"He's right, he helped produce some of Cartel's first songs."
"Oh boy, you've got some massive cred. Cartel huh?"
Steve jumped in at this point and began mediating. We more or less respectfully left... until
"Look at that faggot still standing out there in his white pants! He looks like he still wants to fight."
I didn't, until he brought in the pants. If he's not secure enough in his masculinity to wear white pants, he should confront his problems on his own time. Now I wanted to fight.
"Nick it's not worth it."
"He brought in the pants."
"There are six of them and two of us."
"I can take the first one, and that all that matters."
"Look, I've seen these fights, they don't end pretty."
"Goddammit Steve, fine. I understand you're being rational, but I really wanna kick his ass. He brought in the pants."
"I understand, but you wouldn't just be taking him, you'd be taking his five friends too."
"Ok."
So to handle this rage, I'm gonna post my favorite punk album ever. Enjoy.
Hot Snakes- Audit in Progress
So, it looks like we might be adding some more to the slaw-force. This one's a lot more interesting than us, so get excited. He does art n' shit. It's way authentic. Like, he'll draw shit - good shit - and then just post it. He might even say something clever, too. You guys are so privileged. He's sitting next to me drawing alt-art right now, while Nick's just passed out like a bitch. Right, well, I'm drunk, so I'll go ahead and skip to the rock before I spurt out something silly...TITTYBALLSBITCH! Well, dammit..
They say that moving around and staying in different places can mess with your sleep. I didn't really notice anything like that while I was couch-surfing this summer, but I suppose passing out drunk most nights probably alleviated any tensions. Anyway, what I'm getting at is that I've been having trouble sleeping since I've been home for Christmas, and when I finally do get to sleep I get these collages of unsettling, decidedly realistic dreams. I think that militant DUI school I spent 20 hours in might've had something to do with it, too, because half of these dreams have involved authorities and illegal substances. My mind is such a criminal. Other themes have involved previous romantic interests (all of them), car wrecks in a mini-van, disappointing parties, rescuing hotties from evil masterminds, cooking, super anti-heroes, and ragtime dancing, among other, more random topics I can't quite recall. My subconscious presents itself in odd dynamics. Maybe I should stop eating all these damn cookies and drinking all this damn cola - sugar and caffeine abundance is clearly not benefiting my mind. Thanks grandma. Either way, if these keep up, I'm going to be too paranoid to go out on new year's, and that ain't cool.
