"...a rainbow, a unicorn, a frog on my chin and VAG"

Hey kittens. Time for a list.

1. Birthday weekend thwarted by sickness and un- or dis- or whathaveyou loyalty of some of my friends. Furthermore, they made me walk them home which be-latened me for my 4-am rendezvous with Animal Costello a.k.a. Quinn. It sucked dick.
1a. Was almost made better by Johnny's 5-am call for beer back in Lower Haight. I relented, and caught a cab back from the Tenderloin.
1b. Johnny was asleep when I got there, however, rendering me stranded on Peirce and Oak for about half an hour. Finally found another cab home.

2. Woke up in the morning alone, bougt a plane ticket.

3. Quinn, being the good samaritan that he is, took in some crack addict named Ben. Independantly of Quinn, Violet fucked Ben without protection, then let him break into Mindy's house and steal $700 and her wedding band on Halloween.

4. Quinn stopped returning my calls when he found out what happened to all of my girlfriends. Yay.

5. Went to Seattle. It was perfect. Stayed with Sam and Jen, hung with Crystal, Amanda, Hunts, and Peter Smith. Saw Bryan "Omigod, I love you! No wait, that's gross, I don't love you" Kreiger on several occasions. He all but demanded that he be able to eventually cash in on the "3-am Lower Haight Condom Caper Raincheck" in which I was seen running down Haight street in a pair of maroon track pants and Quinn's blue ski jacket to retreive condoms from 525c from 418 P. I am now sure that I accidently promised to have sex with Bry again that night.

6. Barely made my flight back.

7. Was still sick upon return, although Peter Counts still doesn't really seem to care. About anything. I finally had to scream at him to make him at least realize what was going on with Sam. Asked again for a divorce.

8. Ran into Quinn on Haight street last night. He apologized profusely for the Ben incedent. This is particularly funny because:
8a. He had virtually nothing to do with it.
8b. Peter has yet to apologize for my birthday weekend.

9. I finally got over my cold. It went out with a bang, i.e. a day and a half of puking.

10. Posted on my blog, and called Quinn because even George Lucas rested on the seventh day.

1 comment:

charles.bukowski.costanza said...


i love it when you list.

love that i got to see you, love.