cd playing: peter yorn
cool bar: la carafe
non-cool drink: lit's from the rice bar
i wish: you'd step back from that ledge my friend
memories of last night are just a mess. I will make a feeble attempt to recall the events of our boy' night out debauchery. we started at this new irish pub in the village called brian o'neill's, did you get enough apostorphes in there big guy? I hadn't even parked my butt on a stool when this old friend pulls me by my arm and dragged me to her table. I met her friends, they were okay I guess, nothing too special. I would have eaten that up on a typical night, but I couldn't leave my bretheren like that. so I tossed them like a parking ticket and went back to my lagger and my stool. we did see one girl who had a white rabbit on her shoulder. very matrixesque. she had legs of a throughbred. she was built like the shit, she was good to go, good to go...fueled by satan.
next, we moved our show downtown. we went to this really historic hole in the wall bar called
la carafe. its cash only, that's the only drawback and we had limited scrillah on ourselves. but they served me the coldest heineken I've had in my life. we are definately coming back. at this point we had enough of new places so we hiked back to slainte, but we had a shot at each bar along the way. needless to say, I were seeing double by the time we reached this cantina. we had a round of tequila there, but I honestly think they poured us some mezcal. because I was seeing chicks with green hair by the time we walked out. I saw some cops patrolling the streets on horseback. and I felt like pulling a young guns II chavez chavez navajo move, my dawg nate had to hold me back. thanks broseph.
we made it to the upstairs part of this bar, some dj was spinning. he was really good, we watched him for a few as we slugged back some cocktails. by the time we reached the rice bar our butt stories were flowing. how I miss our college days. some shit was brought back that I had completely forgotten about. I was not aware that people knew about that. well that's as far as I can recall. from that point on I remember snipets here and there. I remember us trying to start a couple of these bikes at the parking garage. I saw this parked ferrari f355 that is for sale, but googs said it wasn't a real one. ohhh it is my friend. but the car is sorta beat up, I wouldn't pay more than 40k for it. you already know what happened next. we did the drunk monkey dance for a popo and got off almost scott free. I will try to write a better account once I've had time to put together the missing pieces.
whooooah!
lt. col. frank slade