The greenest island of my imagination

The other day my eyes popped open at 7am because I could feel the muscle of my left calf contracting painfully. "GAH!" I yelled and grabbed my leg "GAH AGAIN!"

The only way I really know how to deal with a charliehorse is to stand up and make my foot nice and flat on the floor. This, however, is easier stated than actually accomplished seeing that I was laying on a water bed and fat men on water beds means that the time taken to get out of the bed is far greater than that of a skinny person. This of course is combounded by the fact that while I was trying to get out of the bed with my charliehorse, I got one in my other leg.

The resulting time equal to the sum of the fatman and the waterbed multiplied by charliehouse squared is greater than the skinnyman and the waterbed.

What all this boils down to is that I woke Pete up with my flailings about. I finally climbed out of the bed and hobbled to the bathroom and paced back and forth on wobbly legs. I blame this on the fact that friday night I drank my fair share of liquor and then didn't remember to rehydrate myself before I went to bed. Bad me. BAD BAD.

Friday night Pete and I drove into Brooklyn and parked infront of Ryan's apartment. Ryan greeted us wearing a purple button down shirt with "Sugar Daddys" printed all over it. He's puertorican AND a comic book nerd, so he can get away with stuff like this.

From Ryan's house, the three of us took a taxi into the RedHook area of Brooklyn to a bar called "THE HOOK".

I have decided that the bartended is my new girlfriend. Who cares if I'm a flaming homosexual, I love a gal who makes me strong drinks. However, we weren't there just for the liquor...a friend of mine from VA is in a band called Murphy's Kids and they were touring SO...it's much easier to go into Red Hook than to go to Virginia...so we went.

So at this point I would like to quote my other journal in which I wrote about the whole experience while experiencing a slight increase of my blood-alcohol levels:

Paul's band was really fucking good. Which is saying a lot seeing that I'm not a fan of Ska music. But they fucking rocked my fucking face off to the point that I had to turn to ryan and Pete and be like "Y'all....what the fuck did my fucking face look like? I can't remember because MURPHY'S KIDS totally rocked my fucking face off and I can't recall what I looked like before that!!"

Then on the Taxi ride home, our driver told us in broken english about when he picked a guy up from a bar and he was sitting behind him and then vomited all over the back of the driver's head. We all agreed that people who drink too much and get sick and vomit all over the place are losers and should be kicked in the nads...and then rocked till their ficking faces come off.

RIGHT THE FUCK OFF.

Oh...and while MURPHY's KIDS were on stage, ryan and I took turns rubbing Paul's hat on our groins. And then later he put it on and I giggled....but Ryan didn't because he was too busy being a drunken whore.

And then Pete and I went to a diner because on the way home from Brooklyn I was like "I need meat!!!! meat and pancakes!!!!" so we stopped to get some and there were these people making out in the parking lot as we walked in...and they were still there when we were leaving. They too, like Ryan, are whores.

hum....those drinks made me a tad bit more tipsy that I thought they did.

ROCK!!!

On the way home, while the taxi was at a stop light next to a police car, Ryan puked out the window. I like to think of this less of an example of him being a drunken whore, and moreso a pithy social commentary. Ryan's so deep.

For anyone interested, I do have and use a LiveJournal which I update with more of my daily rambling crap than I do here. This DiaryLand journal is more sacred and you run a better chance of me writing in complete sentences and using spell check here, BUT, sometimes I post naked pictures of people I hate in my other journal so just keep that in mind.