of parties and the day since

Friday night saw the christening of our new place, and the hull was well slathered in suds, friends. What was originally going to be a Friday night affair quickly became, once again, a Friday night affair, as Jane's suggestion to hold the event on Saturday was soundly and swiftly rejected.

The decision was made after the actual residents of Robofrance 214 came to the conclusion that it was really of no consqeuence to us whether there was a village people party across Taaffe. We called the night, and it beckoned back.

What began as a low-key gathering of a few knuckleheads quickly escalalted into an all out fucking baller-status affair with a guest list including the likes of "White guy dressed as black guy waiting for an ass kicking cause he's doing coke in the hallway and trying to steal my Ketel One dude," "talk-shit in earshot girl," "I'm gonna play these instruments loud and badly cause they're here boy," and of course the ever amicable E-weezy.

E-weezy is kind of like the a-bomb. No one wants him interupting their good times, but he shows up anyway, leaving behind him a wake of skinless burning death and eventual radioactive deformity. And the motherfucker was trying to sell shrubs cold on premises.

Aside from a few huggins come latelies and the eventual police presence, however, the shit was a success. Had some good times and no one got hurt, and made the acquaintance of a few perhaps soon to be knuckleheads.

Next time we choose to pull something like this, you should come, but let'snot let big motherfuckers who sell drugs into the building this time.