The worst nights are when you go out by yourself

It all started with a bottle of wine, photoshopping my head on Robert Denerio, you know, a typical Saturday night. Then i shower, put on my favorite pair of pants and to to watch Barry spin at Melange.

This is when the devil took over.

I drunkley(sp) helped Barry carry in his records like a true DJ hoe and then proceded to have who knows how many cranberry and marker’s mark by myself while watching barry setup and spin.

Then the black gay hair stylists showed up.

These 2 guys, i dunno how they started talking to me, sat next to me and we discussed music, drinks and hair. They kept calling me Peter Pan becuase of my hair and telling me how i’m the cutest guy in the bar. I finally manage to pay my tab and i think i gave one of the gay dudes one of my business cards and i leave Melange.

Somehow i manage to drive to Neils, the indian burial ground of bars. I’m drunk as shit talking to eric and his girlfriend who i can never remember, buy Brad a happy birthday beer and fucking leave.

I think i threw up in the parking lot.

Barely remember what happened after that. On the drive home i got a Corona and sat outside with my new neighber. We talked about how cool midtown is, etc, he brings out a joint and then i woke up in bed this afternoon with marla begging to go outside and pee. I vaguely remember talking to my neighber and his girlfriend about how cool wireless access points are and how the internet is everywhere. God, fucking pot. Fucking corona. Fucking black dudes. wait no…

Gawd, why didn’t i bring my camera last night….

And of course tonight is old school Sunday. Not good.

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