"last night was one of reid's better nights, except for when he ashed on me" -Adam Soroko
Sometimes, you don't know where to begin. Adam is on the phone with Lane, Brian plays Vice City, and I am moping with Reid, though he is not here.
So last night the venerable and talented Mr. Soroko joined Reid, Jesse, Brian and I over here and we headed out to this random ass kickback in Marina del Rey which we were invited to by this kind Jesse met once, Dave. Actually his name is David, but he looks like Dave, and he didn't seem to mind so he's Dave now. In any case Dave told us not to bring too many people, but we did anyways. We got there and everyone's favorite Mary freak, one Reid Hudson, started toking and B and Adam and I took off to pick up some Popov (which apparently I have been pronouncing incorrectly for months: it's pop-OF, not POP-ov) and Corona. By some miracle, Brian's ID continues to work, and Ralph's unwittingly gave 20 teenagers a good buzz by 10. After we got back, Nadia, Shana, Koren, Kamie, Rachel, Mac and Brett arrived, we left Dave's apartment at 9:30, blah plot summary. We were off to good old Dockweiler beach, the site of Tuesday's festivities, and it was good until the cops started rolling around the beach and kicked us off. We went to Nadia's and then Adam drove us home.
Adam doesn't like being the soccer mom, and I don't blame him. So (forgive me, peer supporters) I agreed to drive us later. Yes... I was the slightly tipsy. Bad idea - but I was fine by the time we picked up our 4 other passengers and left the HP. Reid Nic and Jesse cam along, and we returned to Nadia's. Stoner Steve and Collette were there, so we chatted and everyone's favorite alcoholic (read: me) had to abstain from partaking. Then, Reid recently became the Crown Prince of Alcoholism, and he had enough for himself and the king here too. Nic downloaded some porn and some Streets, and it was good. Other things happened, and they were bad. But Adam was "so cute" in the Marymount uniform (no, he didn't wear the skirt) and Collette told us about how washing your feet twice daily is quite normal, I do it too. Reid and I then got in a fight over a broken sandal. He flipped me over his head, headbutted me with the back of his head into my eye, and the took said sandal and slapped me across the face with it without looking. (Can anyone else hear Ellen cackling over the internet?) In the words of Nic, there was "lots of sex goin on" over on the bed, so we left them pretty well alone and then left at around 4. Reid on the way out stole Nadia's bazooka/nerf gun and carried it out to the car. Now, drunk Reid is kind of dangerous, especially when he's called shotgun and he's got a 4-foot plastic gun. So as he stumbled slowly after everyone else into the car, I locked the doors and told him to put it into the trunk. I popped it, he walked to the back, and slammed the trunk shut. Excwept, he still had the gun. This went on thrice, and then we sort of slowly drove off (I think I did this to Reid two or three tiems that night without his knowledge). We came back, and being the pussy I am I succumbed to letting him have the damn thing in the car. So as we drove through Santa Monica and onto the freeway, Reid had the better part of his body sticking out the passenger side window, winding up the bazooka and firing without styrofoam rockets. But in his words: "I love this gun because you don't even need any bullets." He also added that he was firing at "the Covies," which some of you may recognize as a nod a rather obscure videogame called Halo, and so the "ugly Volvo" became The Warthog. We got on the freeway, and we put in "The Moon and Antartica," and all the drunk people in the back were singing along to 3rd Planet, and we hit 100 as Reid "hit that bastard!" Then we got to the 405, put on "Paper Thin Walls" and hit a new Warthog record: 111. (Beat that in the grey van, fucker.) It was beautiful, and a sliver of moon was peeking over the interchange just as we did it. Mozart, as Reid is with hair back, was shooting Elites and Grunts, Adam and Nic were singing, and I was fairly rocking out with the sterring wheel, which probably wasn't a terribly good idea. Ah, it was the calm before the storm. A great night, and thanks to all.
As for the storm... I won't divulge anything specific. You told me earlier it was "the wrong time, the wrong place," and I'll ask you if it was the right person or the right reasons. You said you regret it more than anything you've ever done. And I regret it too. I don't know what's going on in your life right now, if it's your friends, family, school, solitude, emptiness, me. Talk to someone; you'll feel better.
I'm out.
So last night the venerable and talented Mr. Soroko joined Reid, Jesse, Brian and I over here and we headed out to this random ass kickback in Marina del Rey which we were invited to by this kind Jesse met once, Dave. Actually his name is David, but he looks like Dave, and he didn't seem to mind so he's Dave now. In any case Dave told us not to bring too many people, but we did anyways. We got there and everyone's favorite Mary freak, one Reid Hudson, started toking and B and Adam and I took off to pick up some Popov (which apparently I have been pronouncing incorrectly for months: it's pop-OF, not POP-ov) and Corona. By some miracle, Brian's ID continues to work, and Ralph's unwittingly gave 20 teenagers a good buzz by 10. After we got back, Nadia, Shana, Koren, Kamie, Rachel, Mac and Brett arrived, we left Dave's apartment at 9:30, blah plot summary. We were off to good old Dockweiler beach, the site of Tuesday's festivities, and it was good until the cops started rolling around the beach and kicked us off. We went to Nadia's and then Adam drove us home.
Adam doesn't like being the soccer mom, and I don't blame him. So (forgive me, peer supporters) I agreed to drive us later. Yes... I was the slightly tipsy. Bad idea - but I was fine by the time we picked up our 4 other passengers and left the HP. Reid Nic and Jesse cam along, and we returned to Nadia's. Stoner Steve and Collette were there, so we chatted and everyone's favorite alcoholic (read: me) had to abstain from partaking. Then, Reid recently became the Crown Prince of Alcoholism, and he had enough for himself and the king here too. Nic downloaded some porn and some Streets, and it was good. Other things happened, and they were bad. But Adam was "so cute" in the Marymount uniform (no, he didn't wear the skirt) and Collette told us about how washing your feet twice daily is quite normal, I do it too. Reid and I then got in a fight over a broken sandal. He flipped me over his head, headbutted me with the back of his head into my eye, and the took said sandal and slapped me across the face with it without looking. (Can anyone else hear Ellen cackling over the internet?) In the words of Nic, there was "lots of sex goin on" over on the bed, so we left them pretty well alone and then left at around 4. Reid on the way out stole Nadia's bazooka/nerf gun and carried it out to the car. Now, drunk Reid is kind of dangerous, especially when he's called shotgun and he's got a 4-foot plastic gun. So as he stumbled slowly after everyone else into the car, I locked the doors and told him to put it into the trunk. I popped it, he walked to the back, and slammed the trunk shut. Excwept, he still had the gun. This went on thrice, and then we sort of slowly drove off (I think I did this to Reid two or three tiems that night without his knowledge). We came back, and being the pussy I am I succumbed to letting him have the damn thing in the car. So as we drove through Santa Monica and onto the freeway, Reid had the better part of his body sticking out the passenger side window, winding up the bazooka and firing without styrofoam rockets. But in his words: "I love this gun because you don't even need any bullets." He also added that he was firing at "the Covies," which some of you may recognize as a nod a rather obscure videogame called Halo, and so the "ugly Volvo" became The Warthog. We got on the freeway, and we put in "The Moon and Antartica," and all the drunk people in the back were singing along to 3rd Planet, and we hit 100 as Reid "hit that bastard!" Then we got to the 405, put on "Paper Thin Walls" and hit a new Warthog record: 111. (Beat that in the grey van, fucker.) It was beautiful, and a sliver of moon was peeking over the interchange just as we did it. Mozart, as Reid is with hair back, was shooting Elites and Grunts, Adam and Nic were singing, and I was fairly rocking out with the sterring wheel, which probably wasn't a terribly good idea. Ah, it was the calm before the storm. A great night, and thanks to all.
As for the storm... I won't divulge anything specific. You told me earlier it was "the wrong time, the wrong place," and I'll ask you if it was the right person or the right reasons. You said you regret it more than anything you've ever done. And I regret it too. I don't know what's going on in your life right now, if it's your friends, family, school, solitude, emptiness, me. Talk to someone; you'll feel better.
I'm out.