Busy Weekend
Friday started out innocent enough. I went out with Joe, Sean, and Chet with the intent to see Sarah & her band Cheese on Bread at the Manhattan Grille. We decided to hit Eulogy first. They offer over six hundred selections of the best beers from all over the globe. After the charm of foreign beer wore off, the atmosphere became intolerable enough that I coaxed Joe over to Mako's. We had our usual Pabst and Jager combination and stirred up the crowd with a juke box playlist that makes most frat kids self-implode. No, seriously. We all split up after the show, as most had work the next day. I eventually found myself sprawled out on a concrete block in the middle of the 15th and JFK intersection, waiting for Kate to pick me up. She arrived, laughing hysterically, all dolled up and in a beautiful wedding dress.
She took me to bar on Cottman Ave. where we met Shannon, Kim, and a bunch of other notorious partiers from the North East's hospitality network. Shannon was convinced I screamed at her last weekend, but we were cool by the end of the night. A couple was making out in the batroom (while I was inside.) Some drunk fat girl kept insisting that I was "supposed" to take Kate in there to do that. I convinced her I was gay. Kate was obligated to attend a party nearby, and took the opportunity to change from her Cinderalla get-up back into her usual cargo pants/'Doors' shirt ensemble. She promised we'd only stay for fifteen minutes. I half-remember some odd drama happening inside someone's car while we were all smoking up, but I can't seem to place any of the dialogue. Kate and I said our goodbyes (which included me patting Shan. on the back of the head?), stole six beers each from the cooler and drove back to her place. I skipped out in the morning, very hungover, only to realize it would take me three hours to get home. So, I called up a friend for a ride.
We went shopping for clothes? at the King of Prussia mall?
Anthony met up with us, reccomending that we join him for brunch at a famous Italian resturant. The tree of us ordered seven entrees total, including veal, steak, and mushroom ravioli. My friend added two Summertime Bews and an Irish Coffee. Myself, two milks. Anthony, three sodas and a cake. The bill was unimaginable. Some time later, we checked out Eulogy once again. I hated it the first time, and it was even worse the second. My friend convined me that it was actually my third time there. He claimed I was with Lynch and 'Arly-Kay,' and pointed to portion of the lower floor that contained the 1/8th of the place that I'd be likely to remember through a drunken haze. I ordered a Magic Hat #9 and Speiker ordered an Arrogant Bastard. ;) We may have spent the rest of the night listening to a bizarre opera/house mix on Anthony's $7,500 car stero, or hit the bullet-proofed McDonalds deep in the ghetto, or went back out to get hammered, or worse. I'm not sure. I fell asleep.
She took me to bar on Cottman Ave. where we met Shannon, Kim, and a bunch of other notorious partiers from the North East's hospitality network. Shannon was convinced I screamed at her last weekend, but we were cool by the end of the night. A couple was making out in the batroom (while I was inside.) Some drunk fat girl kept insisting that I was "supposed" to take Kate in there to do that. I convinced her I was gay. Kate was obligated to attend a party nearby, and took the opportunity to change from her Cinderalla get-up back into her usual cargo pants/'Doors' shirt ensemble. She promised we'd only stay for fifteen minutes. I half-remember some odd drama happening inside someone's car while we were all smoking up, but I can't seem to place any of the dialogue. Kate and I said our goodbyes (which included me patting Shan. on the back of the head?), stole six beers each from the cooler and drove back to her place. I skipped out in the morning, very hungover, only to realize it would take me three hours to get home. So, I called up a friend for a ride.
We went shopping for clothes? at the King of Prussia mall?
Anthony met up with us, reccomending that we join him for brunch at a famous Italian resturant. The tree of us ordered seven entrees total, including veal, steak, and mushroom ravioli. My friend added two Summertime Bews and an Irish Coffee. Myself, two milks. Anthony, three sodas and a cake. The bill was unimaginable. Some time later, we checked out Eulogy once again. I hated it the first time, and it was even worse the second. My friend convined me that it was actually my third time there. He claimed I was with Lynch and 'Arly-Kay,' and pointed to portion of the lower floor that contained the 1/8th of the place that I'd be likely to remember through a drunken haze. I ordered a Magic Hat #9 and Speiker ordered an Arrogant Bastard. ;) We may have spent the rest of the night listening to a bizarre opera/house mix on Anthony's $7,500 car stero, or hit the bullet-proofed McDonalds deep in the ghetto, or went back out to get hammered, or worse. I'm not sure. I fell asleep.