Marc
Let's not talk about last night. There were pictures. There were lots of people. The Bitches w/Stitches had a keg. They believed me when I told them that I'd pay them tomorrow. Suckers.
I woke up, completely fucking hung over, and broke two toes on my stool in my bedroom. I dropped a raging alcoholic deuce, stumbled back into the room, and literally fucking THWAPPED my foot against the stool. Fell on to the bed. Angrily whispered, "fuck! fuck! fuck!" over and over again, but I was mindful that people were still sleeping. When I woke up again, I set about organizing the Saturday morning trip to Zorba's, which has finally come back to its good old staple status. We usually roll in about 1pm or so, get the breakfast before they stop serving it, and roll out, kind of like that Ludacris song.
I've spent the rest of the day pitching in on cleaning the apartment. We literally brought living in filth to a whole new level, and today was payback day. To the carpets and counters and tile floors, "you've been served". Jeff and I even took the time to throw down some of that carpet cleaning powder, which was awesome because I actually got to take like a ten minute break before I was able to vacuum. To the untrained eye, it still doesn't look like anything special (talking about the whole pad), but compared to what it looked like this morning, its a vision of perfection. You wouldn't believe me unless you were here these past two weeks.
And after that I took insults from Matt for the rest of the day. He keeps reaming me about my actions last night, which is fine because they're kind of deserved, but whatev. If he hadn't of had a camera, I wouldn't be so flustered by them, but someone out there is going to have hard, photographic proof that I'm not a sissy like they all think I am. Heh. I'm proud, yet disgusted with myself at the same time. Kenzo's predictions of mayhem came true. The world has turned on its side. Its the dawning of a new day.
And we still have tonight left to go.
Let's not talk about last night. There were pictures. There were lots of people. The Bitches w/Stitches had a keg. They believed me when I told them that I'd pay them tomorrow. Suckers.
I woke up, completely fucking hung over, and broke two toes on my stool in my bedroom. I dropped a raging alcoholic deuce, stumbled back into the room, and literally fucking THWAPPED my foot against the stool. Fell on to the bed. Angrily whispered, "fuck! fuck! fuck!" over and over again, but I was mindful that people were still sleeping. When I woke up again, I set about organizing the Saturday morning trip to Zorba's, which has finally come back to its good old staple status. We usually roll in about 1pm or so, get the breakfast before they stop serving it, and roll out, kind of like that Ludacris song.
I've spent the rest of the day pitching in on cleaning the apartment. We literally brought living in filth to a whole new level, and today was payback day. To the carpets and counters and tile floors, "you've been served". Jeff and I even took the time to throw down some of that carpet cleaning powder, which was awesome because I actually got to take like a ten minute break before I was able to vacuum. To the untrained eye, it still doesn't look like anything special (talking about the whole pad), but compared to what it looked like this morning, its a vision of perfection. You wouldn't believe me unless you were here these past two weeks.
And after that I took insults from Matt for the rest of the day. He keeps reaming me about my actions last night, which is fine because they're kind of deserved, but whatev. If he hadn't of had a camera, I wouldn't be so flustered by them, but someone out there is going to have hard, photographic proof that I'm not a sissy like they all think I am. Heh. I'm proud, yet disgusted with myself at the same time. Kenzo's predictions of mayhem came true. The world has turned on its side. Its the dawning of a new day.
And we still have tonight left to go.
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