1) I'm about to board Alaska flight 301, SFO -> SEA
2) I have 5.25 Liters of distilled alcohol in my checked bags
3) It's Thursday

^ NO

i want to preemptively apologize for my bike, the tire casing has stretched out a little bit and i have a case of "nub rub". i know that having it in your neighborhood is totally going to drive you crazy, but trust me: it's a fad, and it's going to go away.

Someone not me call the pre-funk eh?

^^^^^
giggle

In the MEMORIES department:
- I drank Jager Bombs, and lots of them. I shared some with others at the bar, and according to receipts listed below, I think I bought a round for the bar. I lost my voice chanting 'YAY-GER, YAY-GER'. I also lost my voice shouting 'NO, I GOT THIS ROUND'. Shit.
- I remember being kissed on the neck by a girl. She was cute, but had a bit of a problem... I beleive the clinical term is 'Milkshakey BigMacius'. She was a biggun. I have a massive welt on my throat.
- I seem to recall being shaken down by a Bouncer. At the time I felt violated, but then I apparantly forgot about the altercation and just accepted the fact that I was physically removed from a place that I don't recall the name to.
- There was a dude - no, not like that, people... I was stumbling back from the bathroom (or bar, or ATM, or staggering in the middle of the street, I can't recall) but he approached me and struck up a conversation. He pronounced his name and said he was from Iceland. I repeated his name : "ROKFACE?" He disagreed. I barely remember arguing with him for some time and introducing him to random women (who, again, if I was offered $2000 a head to recognize in an all-pooch-patrol line up I would have no chance of winning) as "HEY HAVE YOU MET MY BOY ROKFACE? HE'S FROM IRELAND!!!" I think he promised to buy me drinks, but I don't remember. Not that it's a reach that I don't remember.
- I grabbed a boob. Two problems here: One) I was in Boystown and Two) He had a nametag. Wow - I just put it together - this must have been the impetus for the above mentioned ejection from the club.
- I thought I was peeing in the garbage can in the bathroom. I remember three girls yelling 'What the hell are you doing?' and I said 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? I'M RICK JAMES BITCH! GET OUT OF THE GUYS WASHROOM' to which they responded "Get your own cab, you dumb shit. And put that teeny weeny back in your pants!" I think I pissed on her satin Manolo Blahnik shoes. Then again, she could have been an eskimo and I could have been spraying whale blubber on her sealskin moccasins for all I fucking know. These memories are more of 'suggestive thinking process and loose-based brainstorming' then anything concrete. It's not my fault - I blame the shotgunned PBRs.

what's the shitty place underground between 2nd and 3rd? On spring/seneca/university ish maybe?

Anyway we should go there. i've only been there once.

maybe? is it shitty? lots of wood and probably fake leather chairs? went there for a DBB meet up once. With Joby and Aaron ... so it's obviously been a while.

Yep. Bernards.

From past experience, this is supposed to be where I go, "Hey, Bernards would be awesome!" and you go "Fuck you, lets go to Contour where the clean civilized people hang out and dance."

Contour has cheap food but can't make a Greyhound. I'm going to start making a map of places that can't make them. I think it's fucking criminal. Right now it's:

Rosebud
Contour
Hooverville

Places that make awesome Greyhounds

Honeyhole
Sun Liquor
Zig Zag
Whiskey Bar

I find that you have a hard time getting a decent Greyhound ridiculous. It's grapefruit juice & vodka, ferchristakes.

For the record I don't think I've ever advocated the Contour.

bernards!

Contour bitches

Bah. Get off my lawn.