Friday was the day. Two 22's of pure disaster and a whole posse. There was trouble everywhwere and I was a big time culprit, but there was no paint on my shoes. Broken windows and bottles and a huge mattress fire out in the lawn. Who knows what happened next. It was all a mystery until I found myself sitting shotgun in a quiet car on the long road ( Read more... )

The party was a crazy mystery on the corner of 53rd and Latona, so we sat across the street sippin on some smokin hot beers, just watching, just hoping it wasn't one of those pot-smoking, poetry reading, bongo parties where everything is suckass. So we sat in a yard we commandeered, hiding from headlights and I mean it when I say that that beer was ( Read more... )

I've been drinking. Seventy-two hours in a row. It all started with forties and late night skinny dips in the lake and then it was partying down with a bunch of green bay packers fans and some fancy beers. I played some serious baseball with beer cans and I wore some serious ray-bans and lost seriously at foozball. It was all very serious. Duh ( Read more... )

Life sucks when you have to start your car with a screw driver. It also sucks when you pay $85 to a 40 year old Vietnamese man with braces and still you have no car keys. Car keys don't belong in garbage bags, especially not when the trash man comes every monday morning at 6am to haul it all away. Bad luck is so easy to come by, and car keys are so ( Read more... )

There is a huge lump of blankets in my bed. His name is David and he keeps freaking out and thrashing hard and some weird Mexican voices keep calling my phone and not speaking english. That sucks. Not speaking english is lame. There is a stench coming from my bed. It smells like men. My boyfriend is a man and he just proved it. Tomorrow we are ( Read more... )

Wow the big one-eight. So far so good. So far we've got Tony Roma's, fire works, good friends, pregnant-porn, and tattoos. Not bad for my third day out of the gate. Life is a lot like baby back ribs, good, good, and good. Where are the titties?

I'm gonna miss you, seventeen. Adulthood is whack.

Yeah, so what. I've got hurt feelings. I'm a ten on the wuss-factor scale and you're a grumpy old man. I'm a tiny Chihuahua and you want to join a militia. Maybe sometimes I want to make out, but maybe that's the teenaged years talking ( Read more... )

That's my thing, my quirk, my signiture mooove. Hop along Cassidy, shark bait, Hobbles... yes yes and yes. It's the law of the land. It's straight physics or something. So I go to kickball and all the old catchy nicknames are dusted off and overused, like clockwork, but I admit I half-way missed it. I half-way missed all my friends trying to mooch ( Read more... )

So, you want pills? So you're a street-junkie with no time to spare and you've spent all the change in your circa 1982 fuscia fanny pack on 99 cent burgers and a half assed line of whatever. You smell like crap and you're banned from Jack in the Box for tripping out on your box of curly fries and you can't get another fix? I've been searching for a ( Read more... )