| another profound philosophical conclusion |
[Dec. 12th, 2006|12:07 am] |
Another profound philosophical conclusion hovered outside the new consciousness of the crime, but it was overridden and dissolved by its own condemnation.
Blackness, complete...
evaporating.
Forgiveness is a human
desire. |
|
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| i said dyin |
[Dec. 11th, 2006|11:56 pm] |
you asked me 'are ou gonna hold me when i'm dyin?'
and i held you tighter
i said i would hold you when your dyin'
and i held you tight
are you gonna hold me when i'm dyin?
i said dyin' |
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| who dat bitches |
[Dec. 11th, 2006|10:26 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | it's a grind | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  horny | ] |
| [ | music |
| | frank sin | ] |
fuck that shit bitch
eat a motherfuckin dick
chew on a prick
and lick a million motherfuckin cocks per second |
|
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| sade and loneliesque |
[Jul. 19th, 2006|09:07 am] |
sade and lonelyesque
guess i'll play guitar if it's too hard
to read parts of last nite's leewards
if it takes a new or a few cards
can't blame the dealer for their inward
sarcasm
marks as a
martyr in
flames thrash it
turn around now if you never plan to look back
as it takes more than one, so i lack
hesitate and it passes you by
cavalcade-paced superstardust
wait
have this
pain
to bear in
sane carriage
some cry for help reaches my ears in hell
come sigh from well-meaning disssention
more lies slowly digested
this life is unrelented
sane another hour
blame a muzzled power
waste the newly sickened
fade and truly listen
(for the winds in the tunnels of the minds of your gods) |
|
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| spin |
[Jul. 14th, 2006|01:41 am] |
was it the long ride that killed you?
or was it the end?
how'd you leave so soon?
why did you bend?
suffered your own time
lost you again |
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| still go down like that? |
[Mar. 27th, 2006|08:50 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  crazy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | 311 | ] |
move with persistence, cover much distance
yes ,dogs, the alpha of rhythme has arrived, with grassroots for ya' mama! |
|
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| madd |
[Feb. 21st, 2006|02:41 am] |
my bitches
rock mad maryjane
and smoke
balenciaga
........
........
.......need i say more? |
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| alright folks |
[Sep. 21st, 2005|07:58 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  accomplished | ] |
| [ | music |
| | hey! just found my headphones | ] |
here it is..............
J. Tyler Sandell
9/12/05 (i gave it my sis's birthday so maybe it can be a late present, heehee)
Down the Stairs
(a character study)
When they finally made it home from the hospital, the neighbor was outside with five or six of the local street punks. Jamie groaned as Randy eased the Toyota into the gravel. He nodded politely at them, but they stared hostilely down at the car, as if it were offensive. Randy didn’t recognize any of them specifically, but he had seen them often enough on his way to work and class and home.
“I don’t want to deal with these people right now,” Jamie said, her lips taut.
“I know,” replied Randy. His window was down, so he could smell charcoal burning and see the smoke wrapping around the corner of their cinder block building. He loathed the thought of getting drawn into their midst, but he was never less than polite. He opened his door and pulled himself out, but Jamie sat for a minute, making sure she had a clear path to the door. The urchins shuffled over and regrouped in the shade of the cypress at the corner.
The stairwell door was half-open, and Randy muttered, “Hi.” He leaned into the back seat to grab the bags, trying discreetly to catch snips of their disjointed conversation. He couldn’t make sense of any of it. What are they on now? he thought, but he nodded again and smiled and followed Jamie into the stairs. The neighbor rounded the corner just then and tailed them into the stairwell.
-1-
Randy stopped and pretended to fumble with the bags he was holding so Jamie could make it inside without enduring the harassment. They could seldom come or go without having to maneuver past the neighbors, who loitered out front at all hours. “Hey, man, can I get a smoke? Could you spare me a few? Got a beer? No? Well what about a couple dollars...just ‘til tomorrow?” They’d run down the whole list, every single time. Randy always made an effort to be polite, though. He didn’t really know why. His first guess was that it was just in his nature. Either that or it was a kind of game— to stand up straighter and exhibit a higher standard of conduct. If that were the case, though, did he do it to show them how or was it just easier around them? He stopped there, realizing that he didn’t want to care. He’d been getting better at that lately, stopping himself before he over-analyzed the satisfaction out of whatever he was doing.
The neighbor swung into the low, dingy stairwell, ducking his head with his eyes rolled up to focus on Randy. His features seemed exaggerated to Randy, like his face was drawn and stretched over a skull and ears that were too big and eye sockets that were too deep. All of it sagged and drooped, and Randy thought this might be because it had been stretched out for so long. He wanted Randy to come hang out and eat barbecue. His eyelids looked very heavy, and the invitation was slurred.
“Thanks, man, but I just ate,” Randy lied. The thought of eating meat prepared by this character sickened him, but he smiled and said maybe he’d come down for a beer later. He finally got inside and deposited the groceries on the table. Jamie liked putting them away, and he gladly obliged her in this. He went through the kitchen
-2-
into the living room to start unpacking, and he had just got all the luggage unzipped when he heard them. Jamie stopped rustling the grocery bags, and they moved together toward the door to listen. The voices crescendoed, but neither of them cold discern why. He automatically checked for the knife in his boot and reached for the door.
“Sweetie...”
“What?”
“...Be careful.”
“I’m just going to see, that’s all. If there is a fight, it won’t be in here. It’ll have to be in the street, where it belongs.” He stepped casually into the hall and in through the neighbor’s open door. He could smell the joint they’d just smoked, but a quick look around at their faces saw that they didn’t look too relaxed. The eyes were nervous and the lips slightly parted, ready to say something. Like what? he thought.
“What’ch’ya’ll smokin?” he asked easily, grinning dumbly and trying not to sound too pointed. The atmosphere felt tense, and he didn’t want to tighten any screws by sounding offensive.
“Nuttin’, man, nuttin. We just chillin. Everybody’s just chillin,” the neighbor offered.
Then Randy felt an unexpected weight, like a yolk, of authority settling down on his shoulders. He wondered at it, not usually being the type to assume that role in a room full of people. Then it dawned on him that he was the only one in the room in total control of himself, and it therefore fell on him to lift the tension form the room.
-3-
It was an uneasy feeling. He let some small talk slide by and then asked about the music. Why had it stopped? And that was it, the source of the tension.
“You don’t just grab somebody’s arm like that,” someone spat from the couch, glaring at the neighbor.
Randy sidled out into the hall, eager to be out from under the weight of the room. It’ll be alright, then, he thought. It’s not like they’ll kill each other over the radio. When he got inside, the apartment hadn’t cooled down yet.
“What’s up?” Jamie asked. She’d been listening at the door.
“Not much. I don’t know. I think they’re all pretty twisted.” He was pulling his shirt off as the commotion broke loose next door— yells, thumps, bodies hitting walls, things falling. He pulled it back on and spun back into the hall.
The neighbor was screaming and still lunging for the one on the couch. But in the small space, three of the others were already between them. The one from the couch was the only one at all calm. He was apologizing, he didn’t mean to bring trouble. The neighbor kept yelling at the punk to leave while at the same time blocking his exit. Randy coaxed him into the hall, out of the way. The rage was a thick shell to penetrate, and he wasn’t sure there was anything else inside if he did manage it.
Randy got the neighbor down the stairs and outside, but the punk came half-tripping and half-falling down behind them. Randy jumped between them, taking the first couple of hits between his shoulders and neck, but the neighbor pressed close against his back talking trash. The others pulled the punk off and dragged one another
-4-
a little up the street.
Randy led his neighbor back up the stairs. “So what the hell, man?” he asked, trying to hold his attention. The answer never came.
Randy stepped in to grab a couple of cigarettes from inside his place. As he stepped back out over his threshold, the punk from the couch was already catapulting back up the stairs, shouting and throwing punches. The neighbor backed up into his own place for more room. He was already bleeding when Randy made it in behind them. Randy stopped for just a breath’s time, to think; but the impotence of inaction immediately spurred his instincts. He dropped his thoughts and his cigarettes and launched himself through the door. He planted his legs and squared his shoulders. At the first chance he had, he grabbed the punk by the neck and jerked him backward into the hall. It felt so easy. The temptation to solve the problem with an effortless toss felt even easier. Instead he dragged the punk all the way down the stairs two and three stairs at a time, impervious to the blows and the screams around them. He made it through the door, the gravel, his hold clamped tight around the sinewy neck, and threw the puck onto the asphalt. Now he heard himself screaming, something like, “in the street where you f****** belong!” Had he been screaming the whole time, all the way down? A beat up mini-van screeched to a halt in front of him, the punk jumped into its side door, and the van’s tires screamed too as it sped away.
Randy stood in the gravel for a minute, panting. He looked down at his hands. They’d been steady the whole time, and they started to shake now. He felt it move up through his arms to his chest and into his head, behind his eyes.
-5-
Where had he found the harshness? He went back to the stairs and found his cigarettes somehow intact. He lit one, telling himself, I did what I had to do. When he’d finished it, he lit the next one with its butt. He couldn’t shake the feeling of wrong, like he had abused someone. Was that what he’d had to do? Didn’t people always have choices? But Jamie was crying when he got inside, and it took the better part of two hours to calm her down.
He watched her sleeping on into the morning. Later he went outside and finished the last can of Bud while he watched the sun turn the black river in front of their building back into a street.
-6- |
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| cha-ching |
[Sep. 21st, 2005|07:33 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | accomplished | ] |
| [ | music |
| | only in my head,......................i think | ] |
i'd like to make an amendment to that last thing: what you care about is not of any value until you cast the seeds of it into the multitude around you
there, that has more balance
well, uh, yea so i finished my first story...even though i haven't been to class in a week and a half. i gave it one of those corny transcendentalist titles that schools tend to shove in your face like a N.Y. titty dancer giving a lap dance.
here, i'll see if i can get it posted [damn cell phone] |
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| ? |
[Sep. 20th, 2005|01:29 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  angry | ] |
| [ | music |
| | screams of burning witches | ] |
these last two mornings have been way too early.
fuck the world and all it's worth
fuck everything that you stand for
the things you say you stand for are not the things you stand for; they are the things you want to stand for
what you are worth is determined solely by those you interact with; what you care about is not of any value |
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| so, so, kill yourself for sustenance |
[Sep. 19th, 2005|08:35 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  caffeinated | ] |
| [ | music |
| | ozzy-paranoid | ] |
this fucking window just erased my entry again
i'm not sure if it was just me, but scanning the headlines of today's shitty city paper was outrageous.
beside being on the clock, and beside having brought my beautiful piece with me, and ducking into an unnamed coffee shop for a little early morning pick me up.
so the front page reads:" God, country, ST. Amant football: priorities set for proud community...St. Amant really is nothing more than a postal district and a high school. So [that's] what people around here really rally around." the article was about St. Amant's 5-year, 182-person long waiting list for high school football tickets....a dedicated local, "It's a good problem to have." mmmhmmm, ahh reckon
http://www.2theadvocate.com/images/091905/18207_256.jpg
on to 2a, topped by the Afghan elections, with a large picture showing a sign banning assault weapons, bombs, and the like in the background that looks like it was donated by the democracy-loving members of St.Amant elementary....
5a, "16 mentally ill men guide themselves from N.O." the story is great, but the picture is so much better.
then into the people section, where all kinds of t.v. and movie producers are burning up the phone line of Joe Suhayda, an L.S.U. oceanographer who wanted to make a movie about a monster hurricane flooding N.O. some years back. they're all asking, "So, now, can you explain to me, in layman's terms, what exactly this bowl-thingy is?" ??? yea, verily, i say unto thee: small wonder our governMENTAL infrastructure is having so many problems dealing with the effects of this catastrophe. "hey, dude, you know what a giant hurricane means...a giant hurricane party, dude!!!!"
a dipshit piece about blood-thirsty biting toddlers runs down the previous article's left margin. hmmm...
so, uh, yeah, i guess i should be working on that story, but that would, uhh, huhuh,, suck. |
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| file for continuance granted |
[Sep. 12th, 2005|09:48 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  bouncy | ] |
| [ | music |
| | the toadies | ] |
sonsofbitch.....i just had a full screen entry and this fukking middleton lab puter decided to open a help window in the same window i had l.j. open in. whatever, i won't even waste the time bitching more
so i guess i'll just start with my 21st birthday, since that's about as far back as i can go. let me just say in regard to that special incident that i am fortunate enough to have a 'life partner'[i love that label!] who is as crazy, though possibly crazier than i am; who therefore had the infinite well of patience and understanding that was necessary to take care of me throughout a drunken crisis from beginning to end without ever once cracking. i suppose the thing started when we decided to head for the mall of louisiana [which i fukking hate with a firy passion born of the flames in satan's eyes]; we had a couple franklins worth in gift certificates, courtesy of ms. wendy b/c she loves us. This was after dragging ourselves back into consciousness. Our heads were pounding and swaying from the previous nite’s festivities, the details of which I am no longer able to recall. I think this was on a Saturday, for what it’s worth. Someone cruel soul-less person had told us some time ago that the daiquiri shops would give you a free tiny size daiqiri on your b-day. So we steer first toward the two within range of us, but when we get there we find out that our soul-less informant had apparently lied to us so we’d stop sweating her. The other shop is only a couple miles up the road, so we head there. They don’t do the free b-day deal either, so I resign to getting two of the biggest ones they have– electric lemonade for case and 190 octane for the birthday boy(I asked which one had the largest amount of the strongest liquors, which I believe included everclear & 151). We were set for the mall. To make a long story short, we walked around, going in almost every store, for like 4 or 5 hrs; and I did not see a single thing I wanted. We were shopping for case as well; I never would have stayed that long, but it was cool at first since we had our giant daiqiris. Later, though, as the liquor turned on in earnest we began to degenerate into drunken belligerent crazies. I think we argued over something(don’t remember what, would you believe?)that we normally would not have thought twice about getting serious over, until we had to split up just to cool off. The problem w/ that emerged when we tried call each other and had no signal. So it took an even more ludicrous amount of time for us to finally get reunited. Then we went to the buckle b/c I really needed a pair of jeans, and those were the only ones I would consider wearing. It sucked that they weren’t jncos and they cost circa $80; but on the bright side, I had some jeans to wear for whenever I went out to ‘d’ville(madisonville) to see my gramps. The whole jnco fad never went over well with him, but I also wanted to work on my “straight” or “clean-cut” appearance in hopes of getting in good with the folks, in turn in hopes of them helping me out a little w/ the cost of L.S.fukkinU. We made it out of the mall, and I was way too twisted to drive, so case got us back to chris’, where we still had half our clothes, so I could ‘put something decent on’ to wear to dinner. If I had lost it in the mall, I really lost it back at chris’ in our room. But case was an angel.
......damn, out of time, the lab’s closing. Dinner was weird, but I’ll finish later... |
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| katrina is a whore |
[Sep. 12th, 2005|06:11 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  strung tite | ] |
| [ | music |
| | 3eb | ] |
i had to read up on my last few entries just to get an idea of what was going on (which is all they give anyway) and what has happened since then. that was may 5th, before my 21st birthday, before the end of school, before my gramps had a stroke, before the scarrifying trip to DisneyWorld, before i told the g.m. of Fox&Ho, Mike, to take that faggot-ass-worthless-putz job and roll it up cone-shaped to shove up his terminally retentive gerbil-clogged anus, before...um...well, i guess may 5th preceded a lot of things.
For instance, that was while Case and i were still half living in Chris' and half moved into our new place off of State St. on Tula(i've now coined it as the Tula St. Slum, in ref. to the bitch landlord across the street who just moved in subsequent to all her bitch-ass-upper-class property washing away in N.O.). Since we finally finished moving in, there has been a succession of crackheads brought in across the hall, and i had to break up a knife fight in our hall, a story i'm sure to elaborate on later, maybe later tonite if i can coerce case into bringing her lt up to campus.
well, all apologies to scarxx for my mysterious absence, since she's the only one who actually missed me. but i have to go now---places2see, people2do &allthat. i always wind up running out of steam early, so sorry about all the stuff i just listed without explaining, because there is a fukking plethora of stories to tell. but i'll try to carry them on later, so peace-out bitches |
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| long time, no sleep |
[Sep. 8th, 2005|05:55 pm] |
as usual, it's been a while.
didn't get to shoot during or after the storm, so now i'm just looking for the influx effects in b.r.--->swuch as national guard troops w/m-16s guarding the foodstamp office
hope i get into this photo comm
time2go |
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| been a while |
[May. 5th, 2005|07:43 am] |
so it's been a while since my last entry...
well, since then, the pope has retired (to the sky), Casey has proved herself to be an extraordinary being, we have gone to see George Clinton and the P-Fink All-Stars @ Twiropa Thursday nite 4/28, we've weathered one hell of an adventure in search of our dear old Uncle Cidney, and we are now neck-deep in final exams week...
so the pope died---his only retirement option. now we have an ex-Hitler Youth as head of the catholic church...
Casey is apparently passsing all of her courses, if not with A's then with honorable B's, which is more than I can claim for myself...
...And we went to see P-Funk @ Twiropa the other nite. We ate some killer acid and went to the show, just hoping for the situation to complicate itself. Some widespread Panic groupies offered to dose us up for $5 a hit while we were there, but we had found beer by then, so I passed. When we walked out there was a plethora and a half of gypsies---travelling freaks who follow Widespread panic like the it's the second coming of Christ---standing around with doses of acid and huge red balloons full of laughing gas. We made our way through, slowly so as not to startle them, and dove into the Grand Prix...or fell, whichever it looked like to the majority of people passing by. A nice fat leftie helped our navigation abilities and soon we found a spot to wedge the Pontiac on Barracks and Chartres. The Dervish proved to be full of Goth freaks of every kind, but mostky the kind that looked male but still followed the girls into the bathroom for pissing and meth. They kicked and writhed, twisting and grinding, and they totally dominated the dance floor. But it didn't matter to us. P-Funk played for four hours straight, from 9 til 1, and I was still dripping sweat (everyone's I presume) while we reclined at our customary edge of the dance floor. We were certainly content to observe the freakiness of these other creatures as a resoite, and the acid was kicking in strong, compelling us not to dance but to relax. After a few RollinRocks, we decided to go for a stroll and burn another leftie; and this inevitably brought us back to Angelie's where we attempted to consume an italian pizza while watching the rainbow bubbles float across the walls. We wanted to just get a room, but we decided to save that C's b-day and proceeded next door to the Dervish again, for another drink, before she (the bartender) closed up shop @ 6 in the G.D. morning. I think we ended up passing out in a Chevron parkin lot, right in front of the cashier's window, about halfway back to BatonRouge, after filling ourselves on McGriddles. It was a unique shock to awaken to the stares of concerned rednecks @ 8 in the G.D. morning, but we recovered immediately by throwing the G.P. into [reverse] and leaving a long streak of stinky melted rubber to mark where we had trespassed. Classes were fun Friday... |
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| fucked-up times @ Ridgemont High |
[Apr. 22nd, 2005|02:49 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  distressed | ] |
| [ | music |
| | klsu | ] |
"There's no birthday party for me here!"
yea, and if I missed it, it wasn't last night either. I was here last night, and things were screwed the same way.
So, yesterday z]I went out to Denham to grab my uniform, and our "Hackers" movie is in from Kellog's. Casey is still doing her speech project when I get off around 10, but we finally get back around eleven to eat burritos and watch the movie. The whole time we're kicking back, smoking, there's all this commotion in the hall. When I finally get dressed and 'go out for a smoke' to see what the hell is going on, there're two urchins chilling on the stairs under the "Euthanasia" sign, and one of them bums a smoke. I ask them what's going on as I edge my way around the bikes they've got thrown in front of my door. Nothing, they're just waiting for "Elmo"*not his real name*, a cracked-out junkie who shot up smack in the hallway before we moved in...[and who also showed up knocking on my door one morning trying to peddle everything from pot to crack to heroin to powder---you name it, he quoted a price---as long as I gave him the cash money first and then waited patiently for him to return. I politely escorted him back down the stairs, back out the hall door, bid him good day, and anxiously made my way back upstairs, where I was too nervous to drift back into oblivious slumber. Then he shows up at friend's party downtown later that weekend, peddling powder to the college kids.]...So anyway, I go out this morning and TaDa!!! the Euthanasia sign is gone, nothing but a tattered piece of duct tape hanging from the wall where the sign used to. Needless to say, I was ticked. But we go to WallyWorld for some project supplies, and wehn we get back we find that some asshole parked all sideways across our front parking section, which usally accommodates 3 or 4 cars, and we can't even pull in. After we unload upstairs, I go back down to hang around for whatever manner of fuckstain owned this blue toyota piece of shit in front of our door, and soon enough he comes out jumos in his car and proceeds to the corner, where traffic stops him dead, all the while fitfully ignoring my attempts to get his attention. So I catch up to him at the corner, and he refuses to roll his window down, scared little pussy. Finally he does, and I respectfully request that he be more polite with the placement of his vehicle next time, to wich he replies, "I didn't see a sign," as he starts to drive off. "I'll tow your shit next time, asshole!" was my parting remark... |
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| TKK gonna rev ya' motor!!! |
[Apr. 17th, 2005|05:12 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | anxious | ] |
| [ | music |
| | NIN | ] |
So, ...haven't logged since 4/2/05; it's now 4/17, 05:02(in the morning, for those who don't read 24-hr [military] time.
well: closed the restaurant (Fox&Hound) Thurs. thru Sat.(last nite), managed to get out early(1 a.m.) last nite and got to Zakis' keg party, ,her second one since the end of S.B., before the keg floated. Muscled ny way thru to the end of the porch thru a bunch of dudes who were were rapping, and I then proceeded to pour five cups of flat Natty Light down the hatch b/f it started to make me nauseous.
...fukked @round all week---skipped both classes Mon. (test in math), nothing Tues., Skipped math Wed. but went to Mass.Comm. @ 5:30(one hour late) and still managed to turn in Mon.'s assignment w/ minimal repremands. for Thurs., no class, brought lunch to my sugarpie(soggy salad&yogurt w/ strwbrrys) after gas inspection @ 8a.m., then work @ 4p.m.&stayed to close; made math on Fri., burgers @ Chris', work @ 8pm(OK nite), got home, smoked, brkfst @ Louie's, then saw some Marquis de Sade movie; Sat. woke @ noon, baked, burgers @ Chris', picked up "Eternal Sunshine...", work @ 6. I'm the only guy server @ Fox, ...yea...; got out early for Zakis' hoe-down, to which I pulled up blaring Zeppelin w/ a leftie in my ear, had left my phone home by toilet,
>>> party is whole other story:
Arrived 1:30am, found keg & downed 5 beers. Found Casey(again), inside for vodka, Casey to bathroom while I get drinks---Carlie offers some Smirnoff(got the Skyy in hand, pouring) & misses both cups to pour a great deal of Russian craftsmanship down my pants all over my jimmy. Finally get drinks, meeting copious ppl. during all, back outside w/ C., then back into front room for music where my first drink gets spilled. Eventually et another, chill w/ C. in Z's bedroom...second drink gets spilled. Aggravated, go out to smoke, C. runs away. Chase her down, get back, kitchen for 3rd drink>>>walk in on "Joey" shovelling snow on a dinner plate. He offers, offer accepted, notice company(in kitchen), meet "nelly", "brendan"(w/ the pimpbike who passed us coming back after chasing Casey), Brendan&Nelly making out. Take my turn, Joel chatting, go out & see Chad[ who showed up @ our place earlier looking for Shane, to get "high"; "I can get you high in 20 min's, man, 20 min's after you call me, money up front or not, man..."he was saying. Finally convinced him I wasn't interested, gave him K's #, he left. Talked to K, found out how bad news the dude was...]. Don't know it @ the time, but Chad's been showing off rocks of snow to interested ppl in front of the house. Walk out to car w/ C's bookbag, see them in back, go to investigate>>>not Z's yard, lady in winow w/ knife, whoa...
anyway, we finally left, got home, C passed out. Think someone was following us on the way out, popo's. freaky nite all together... |
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| 13 minutes past 4:20 am |
[Apr. 2nd, 2005|04:33 am] |
|
So, anyway, I'm wearing my pimp-collar cornflower blue buttoned shirt, my conservative Aeropostale jeans and a sparkling-silver-paslies-on-sparkley-deep-black-TIE hung loosely around my neck. I at least knew that it was tucked properly under my collar and did not exhibit any torturous tangles with my long, blond flowing locks (thanks to Casey and Jason), but I could only hope that the sniffing little girl tending bar would be hep to my mature suavity. Just before I get up to it, she I.D.'s the guy in front of me, who just ordered---and also tries to pass off some cheap-ass fake. It seems to be quite vexing, so I ask if I can just get 3 pitures of whatever's cheap and be out of the way. I would have just said that the shoes guy had my I.D., but none of that matterred now. I think my final count, after going back to Amanda's &Co.'s place to chill, was something like 27 beers. yea, and work the next day... |
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| high-powered blotter; "stoned, ripped, twisted...good people |
[Apr. 2nd, 2005|02:22 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  jubilant | ] |
| [ | music |
| | deadboy AND the elephantmen | ] |
So, uh...yea, spring break>>>whatever. I managed to pick up shifts all week; completely forgot that I'd invited Jason to come chill for the week (since Chris would be in Florida) when he was here one nite a good while ago after the beerpong party with the keg of Killian's Irish Red. So he calls me sometime Wednesday nite {'and I'm like, "oh shit!" with my hand over the phone, because it only hit me just then.} Besides begging to go bowling at Don Carter's that nite, Casey had already penciled in our schedule to the max for the week, not to mention my work schedule. But he came up [...so, u know, no quiet/alone time w/ my schnookums], and we sprung for his $10 @ the door and bought three pitchers. We went with these kids we met through Jane, to whom Skye passed our number on out of mutual interests. I don't remember what I was drinking before we left, while we waited for Jason. We smoked some of Jane's lefties with Jason on the way there. The other kids, Amanda, Tyler and Pip, got the first pitcher, which made thru one round. That illiterate Bosnian bastard Veljko saw us coming in and talked up the awesome deal on pitchers. But that fukker lied. They raped us. Which, consequently, didn't matter due to the incident immediately in front of me at the bar line... |
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malevolinse's journal
tired
