Fucked up generation
It’s all my fault. I know what boobies are made of. I do. Learned it all last night. I am also cordially and specifically invited by the staff to fuck whomever in the men’s room stall. Sandra sat upside down in the backseat all the way home. Nicci dissappeared, but we found her later. And Danielle punctuates by swigging vino from a bottle. A short swig is a comma, or semi-colon. A long swig is a period. It was someone else’s birthday and someone else’s sister wasn’t wearing a bra. Naughty!
This was after Cecily and Armando cancelled dinner. Fuckers. So I swung out and hung with Nicci briefly before meeting Tiff’s new coworker EJ at the apartment.
Wandering star
Tuesday Ricky regaled us with stunning descriptions of Naval armaments and workplace subversiveness. We tried Jonathan’s spiced wine. Not sure on the verdict. I abstained. Practicing for lent. Tobin talked about work. Justin talked about metal. His band Splinters of Death is unlike everything I’ve ever heard.
Monday I split work early, being sick, and having vomited on myself earlier. Met up with Roy and Zach. Zach returned to Germany early Tuesday morning.
Brand new you’re retro
Sunday woke refreshed, but Katy woke icked out, like to the max, man. By the time she felt better, I was icked out. Neither of us wanted to get in the car for a three hour drive home. But we both had to be back.
Saturday katy called at 11:30 to remind me I was meeting her at noon. I got there at 1:00. Not too bad. Not too bad, at all. Hopped in the car and jammed to Austin, hitting the hummus stand, first thing, and waiting FOREVER for some fucking service. The hummus was worth it. Then we met Anna’s roomies who were very cool.
Procured was vodka and port. And then some more port. Brad and ‘Auli’i showed up, and then they did their weird Brad and ‘Auli’i thing. None of us understand it. Met a ton of typical Austin indie-rockers, uber-hipsters, and aging decadents. Roved to Wylie’s so I could sleep through Dog Soldiers (cause I was tired, dammit). Of course we took the port, but forgot it at Wylie’s. That’s ok. That’s what’s known as a fortuitous bottle of port. Saw Stina and Dane, as well as the man who keeps an extra brain in a styrofoam cooler and takes it with him wherever he goes.
Muscoviet mosquito
Friday, Denise took all of us to Numbers for her birthday. She got us drunk. I have been known to have a drink from time to time, but Denise pushed our limits. Jeff DJed “I walk the line”‚ “Lagartija Nick”, and “Heroin she said” all early in the night. Rock the fuck on.
Thursday I worked and hit Underworld later. I think.
Men don’t fear the reaper
Wednesday I wrecked my car after pulling an all nighter for work. I was on my way to Katy’s birthday shindigs with promised ice cream cake, queso, and margueritas. And they didn’t even save me a teensy fucking scrap.
But it was cool. Got towed. Nicci came to pick me up, and dragged me out to Maddy’s punk show at Numbers. I haven’t seen an old fashioned Austin punk band in years. Also playing were Sword who I thought sounded cool.
And Tuesdays have been cool. Angela brought her spiffy velvet coat. Jonathan’s been there. And Tobin has upgraded from bringing wine, to bringing wine and havarti. Lindsey and Brittany showed late one evening, and at some point we had Brandon’s mead…