I spent the bulk of last night stumbling around trying to find my center of gravity… salted margaritas and Pabst Blue Ribbon turned out to be my center of gravity. It was an interesting evening of fun, Mexican food and the urge to curl up in the back of the bar and sleep. I didn’t get any poon, so there won’t be any spicy stories about me having fun while attempting to satisfied the other sex with my peener. THOUGH there was an awfully odd man who followed us out of the pizza place at 3:30am and onto the subway. He was drinking an extra large Redbull, speaking to himself, and licking some sort of tarish looking goop off of his forearm. When I saw he got on the same train as us I realized he could be a dangerous killer and decided to run onto the next car leaving the girls by themselves to die. I found this very funny.

No one died, but I did throw a pencil at him and told him to shave my feet as he got ready to leave.

Daniel Dickey

Cinco de Mayo, which in Spanish means the fifth of Mayonnaise, was a very exciting night. After working the entire day I was relieved to walk into my kitchen to see one of my roommates and a friend of ours making Martini’s. Though I have never tried a Martini, I gulped one down in a matter of seconds. This turned out to be very very stupid idea, because of course…it tasted like shit and burnt the crap out of my throat. They obviously had no idea how to make Martini’s and were waiting for me to get home to use me as the dummies in their alcoholic experiment. I ended up just drinking straight vodka and chasing it with Hersey’s strawberry syrup. Now that’s what I call a drink.

I then spent 20-30 minutes searching through my food cabinets for marijuana. I was successful in finding three small roaches, all of which tasted delightful with my strawberry syrup. Of course this lead to me climbing out my window, into the pouring rain, and onto my roof to yell things at the drunk people on the street. Luckily when I slipped and fell, I feel on the roof and not off the roof. If I feel off the roof I would be dead, or have no legs. That would totally be ‘not cool’.

I then spent some time at a Mexican restaurant down the street from my house (When I say sometime I meant between 90 – 140 seconds). Something told me this restaurant had a very bad vibe and I shouldn’t be there. Looking back I’m sure that something was the marijuana. So as soon as my meal arrived I got up and ran out of the restaurant, leaving my roommate and friend there, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. They found me sleeping on the bathroom floor when they got home.

I finished the night off by drinking some more and walking around to different bars in the rain. I had a bottle of Brandy in my back pocket, and when the bouncer of one of the bars asked me what it was I said, “Idiot what does it look like? It’s carrot juice. I have really bad eyes”. They bouncer told me if he ever saw me again he’d crack my face open with his fist. I told him if I ever saw him again I would run. He started to laugh just when I spit on his shoe. “Suck my dick you fat Toad”, I said as I ran for my life out of the bar. There’s a good chance this man will murder me if I ever go into the bar again (Unfortunately I was to drunk to remember which bar this was. I don’t think I’ll be going out for a while).

Doing laundry,

Daniel Dickey