one would assume at the very least pirates...
would be interesting.
this is what one would assume. oh assumptions. why do they trouble one so?
i went to this fucking pirate party tonight. this party was put on by folks who are called teh sausage party. not because they refer to themselves as the sausage party, and thank the lord for that, but because they are perpetually single.
now as someone who is perpetually single I thought I might find some solidarity with these fellows. well fuck that shit.
this party was fucking terrible. absolutely horrendous. and i mean i realize that if you advertise a pirate party, and that is all kinds of ridiculous in and of itself, but even beyond the dumbness it is like: I will wear a sash (old h & m scarf), I will wear pirate shoes (old fluevog elf shoes that I still wear with shorts), I will wear striped socks (new paul smith socks my dad bought me which are striped and fucking badass), I will wear cut up shorts (value village), a striped shirt (value village), a cherry brooch (pronounced 'charries' and that is probably not how you spell brooch), a rose bandana - neck (value village), an anchor bandana - bandana (ms. brette gaybel - private collection), but I will assume that there will be fun, free pizza (as advertised), and cheap drinks (as advertised), and I WOULD LIKE TO DANCE TO MUSIC THAT ISN'T FUCKING HORRENDOUS.
Apparently, and I wasn't even hungry (thanks to a lovely crisp made with all kinds of sauces which I enjoyed like woah) so no pizza, the good music is unattainable. Now am I some kind of sociopath or is it just like a fucking fact that weezer is fucking played out. and if you are super amped to hear weezer, well that is dope, but I mean, fuck off. and weezer was the best of what was played.
so sure enough brette 'pistol' gabel wrests control of the dj booth, and by dj booth I mean the fucking i book, for a bit and the music doesnt' suck for about twenty minutes. and I join her, and we figure some shit out, and people are actually dancing. but the moment, the god damn moment, she hits the dance floor to enjoy the fruits of her labour, some asshole, whom I assume owns said i book, starts fucking shit up again.
unfuckingbelievable.
the worst part is is I wasn't even supposed to drink tonight. supposed to start my sober summer. but that didnt' happen cause it was all like 'lets throw down.' and I did. but to what advantage? as far as I can tell none. and I mean don't get me wrong. I love to go out and have some drinks. love it. but I mean are times that much funner? well yes, yes they are, and that is just a fucking science fact.
and this is why I dont' get, why isn't there some pill that can just make me feel as good as when I am drunk. oh...thats right...there are tons of them. why don't I have any of those pills?
unbelievable.
upon reviewing the earlier paragraph i was about to change "why I dont' get" to what I don't get. but upon further reflection I feel that "why I dont' get" is a much more honest phrase. and a lovely one. so I will keep it.
and I am listening to the fucking shins. believabl.e.
this is what one would assume. oh assumptions. why do they trouble one so?
i went to this fucking pirate party tonight. this party was put on by folks who are called teh sausage party. not because they refer to themselves as the sausage party, and thank the lord for that, but because they are perpetually single.
now as someone who is perpetually single I thought I might find some solidarity with these fellows. well fuck that shit.
this party was fucking terrible. absolutely horrendous. and i mean i realize that if you advertise a pirate party, and that is all kinds of ridiculous in and of itself, but even beyond the dumbness it is like: I will wear a sash (old h & m scarf), I will wear pirate shoes (old fluevog elf shoes that I still wear with shorts), I will wear striped socks (new paul smith socks my dad bought me which are striped and fucking badass), I will wear cut up shorts (value village), a striped shirt (value village), a cherry brooch (pronounced 'charries' and that is probably not how you spell brooch), a rose bandana - neck (value village), an anchor bandana - bandana (ms. brette gaybel - private collection), but I will assume that there will be fun, free pizza (as advertised), and cheap drinks (as advertised), and I WOULD LIKE TO DANCE TO MUSIC THAT ISN'T FUCKING HORRENDOUS.
Apparently, and I wasn't even hungry (thanks to a lovely crisp made with all kinds of sauces which I enjoyed like woah) so no pizza, the good music is unattainable. Now am I some kind of sociopath or is it just like a fucking fact that weezer is fucking played out. and if you are super amped to hear weezer, well that is dope, but I mean, fuck off. and weezer was the best of what was played.
so sure enough brette 'pistol' gabel wrests control of the dj booth, and by dj booth I mean the fucking i book, for a bit and the music doesnt' suck for about twenty minutes. and I join her, and we figure some shit out, and people are actually dancing. but the moment, the god damn moment, she hits the dance floor to enjoy the fruits of her labour, some asshole, whom I assume owns said i book, starts fucking shit up again.
unfuckingbelievable.
the worst part is is I wasn't even supposed to drink tonight. supposed to start my sober summer. but that didnt' happen cause it was all like 'lets throw down.' and I did. but to what advantage? as far as I can tell none. and I mean don't get me wrong. I love to go out and have some drinks. love it. but I mean are times that much funner? well yes, yes they are, and that is just a fucking science fact.
and this is why I dont' get, why isn't there some pill that can just make me feel as good as when I am drunk. oh...thats right...there are tons of them. why don't I have any of those pills?
unbelievable.
upon reviewing the earlier paragraph i was about to change "why I dont' get" to what I don't get. but upon further reflection I feel that "why I dont' get" is a much more honest phrase. and a lovely one. so I will keep it.
and I am listening to the fucking shins. believabl.e.