i have played toss the turtle for three thousand seconds
howdy. it's been a bit, but i can't say it hasn't been interesting, stupid, and, at the very least had me waking up wondering, "what the fuck did i do (period of time)".
for starters, i feel like fossilized deer shit; as in, i feel in about a billion different pieces teh shit, i woke up next to an empty bottle of pre-mixed margarita, and thusly am unsure if i pissed the bed or just passed out with a bottle. also, i don't recall where said bottle came from, but i'm willing to bet it was in the fridge with my sister's mike's hard that i also don't remember drinking.
oh, what wonders are possible somnambulent.
anywho, yesterday was a goddamn shit parade.
july. the fourth. tire marks on josh's burst liver. it looks up to me and screams, help! like an abattoir of retarded animal babies. all's i can do is look down and whisper, "no".
j calls, teels me he's making food and i should come over. k.
so i ride my bike some odd miles on nothing but coffee, figgerin' j'll have some culinary delight for me to chase forties with.
wrong. j made food for himself (which looked effin' awesome, aesthetically), and then subjected me to a drunk on pretension dave boor. i didn't even get to talk about cars the hip was so profuse.
eventually, after j smoked a metric fuck-ton of poot, we rode our bikes to mark's and met up in the cemetery with ian's entire family, i guess. at least with a small assault there was the possibility of watching yon fireworks, however much obscured, from such a verdant and pleasant locale in peace and the ability to scatter. however, under the conditions present, i basically just had to ride home.
en route, the building adjacent to chelsea's house burned up/exploded. so close, yet so far.
i got home and that's where things get cloudy.
whatever.
last week was a show at the warren vfw hall, and about 5 dudes showed up who weren't in bands. first band, same as the worst. we played, and then i puked. unpronounceable hardcore band with a message next, and finally kicking spit, who put on a enjoyable, way too high energy spectacle for longer than a hardcore band can usually exist. dinosaur III.
uh, what else?
there was a party at kelsey's, which, from my vantage, was a bunch of apathetic hip people, the odd ruinously attractive chick dating an exponential dweeb, and j, mark, and myself using a wheelbarrow to throw eachother into the woods. a good time. i ran into a bob of the multiverse, and that's probably where most of my* pot went. but it was fun, i didn't pee anywhere inappropriate, and kelsey's dog is awesome.
friday ian, j, mark, and myself (to a lesser degree) made foodstuffs in a dog's bowl over a fire, and it was fucking delicious. until the yeast-laden beers drove me ass-first into the bathroom the following day, where i got my comeuppance for mixing meat, tequila, and home brewed beer.
i read a shit ton of comic books.
erm, is that it? i can't think of much else, though much else probably happened and i just don't remember/care enough to think that far back.
YEAH!
*not my pot