Saturday Night Fun~
Woo! Tonight was an unsuspected blast. The original intent of the day was to watch Jackass 2 at 5:10pm, then later venture with Sir Scott and Co to another club event. But a certain catalyst set off a chain-reactioned that ultimately led to a much more entertaining evening.
Cue catalyst. Sometime in the afternoon, I received a phonecall from High Warmistress Devon. The news? Well, the conversation began roughly with the line, "Well, the fire department is finally pulling away..." Fortunately, the fire was contained to the internal of her car, ignited by some electrical cataclysm involving two wires and an airbag. So yes. 5:10pm no longer appeared to be a reasonable gathering time, so the union was shuffled back to 7:30 or so.
New plans: Go shopping for clothes till 6:30pm, then head to the theatre. But where should we go? Hark! We call the Lady of the Dark Arts, Berta. Through her maleficient divinings, she directed us to a place known to us only as Lenox Square. Unfortunately, upon reaching that hallowed destination, we came to know it as FuckparkingshithellfuckfuckdiedieIhatethisfuckingshithole!. It was there that we eventually gathered into a single unit, formed of myself, Lady Karissa of Norcross, Berta the Black Witch, High Warmistress Devon, and her newfound ally, Andrew McSteelnipples. So adventure was had as our force moved through Macy's, scouring the aisles for clothing fit for either gender. In the end, loot was had, but again a change proved eminent, for our party hungered and only raw flesh would suffice. The movie, already culled from its prime spot of 5:10 to 7:30, was demoted to 9:40pm. And so Sir Scott of Kennesaw was contacted, and told of our new destination.
Sushi Yoko.
The journey was perilous, fraught with many a misdirection and turmoil from within our own enigmatic crew. In the end, harrowed and hungry, we made it to the restaurant, where we found our party separated by an unfortunate lack of competent seating. Fortunately for us, we managed to eventually acquire booths across from each other. With that arrangement made, we placed our orders and proceeded to ferry diplomatic shipments of water and napkins across the vast aisle that separated our two great nations. Despite our initial friendly political situation, It was quite fortuitous that we finished the meal before we waged war due to a disagreement over uranium enrichment.
So finally, our bellies full and spirits bouyant, we arrived in force at the Peachtree Cinema. Tickets were gathered with little fanfare, and we slithered our way into our respective seats. The movie was all we expected and vastly more. The stunts were gut-wrenchingly amusing, the gags infinately beyond disgusting. And several, ranging from situations involving pubic hairs to plastic bubbles, exhibited a new level of disturbed inspiration. We were beyond satisfied by the time the credits rolled; we were enlightened.
The night continued past the movie, blending swiftly from film to arcade. Gilded coins engorged the pockets of each adventurer, and were spent swiftly upon a myriad of entertainments. I myself managed to prove my worth in the grand sport of Air Hockey, winning all but one game in ten matches. That prestige, that one satisfying loss, falls to the surprising skill and tomfoolery of Andrew McSteelnipples. His snapshot arm, melded with a quicksilver ability to lift his shirt and flash a brilliant steel nipple, were together enough to defeat me. But each consequent match ended in failure for him, as I had learned well his felicitous talents.
It was only after we had descended upon the venerable DDR machine, that our stamina finally waned thin. Our party gathered for a last chat outside the doors of the hybrid theatre/arcade, where we revelled in the day's adventure. It was there that farewells were given, and promises made. So beneath a waxing October moon, with the tattered remains of September still tangible and remembered, we parted ways and returned to our respective homes. Warmed. Welcomed. And content.
Cue catalyst. Sometime in the afternoon, I received a phonecall from High Warmistress Devon. The news? Well, the conversation began roughly with the line, "Well, the fire department is finally pulling away..." Fortunately, the fire was contained to the internal of her car, ignited by some electrical cataclysm involving two wires and an airbag. So yes. 5:10pm no longer appeared to be a reasonable gathering time, so the union was shuffled back to 7:30 or so.
New plans: Go shopping for clothes till 6:30pm, then head to the theatre. But where should we go? Hark! We call the Lady of the Dark Arts, Berta. Through her maleficient divinings, she directed us to a place known to us only as Lenox Square. Unfortunately, upon reaching that hallowed destination, we came to know it as FuckparkingshithellfuckfuckdiedieIhatethisfuckingshithole!. It was there that we eventually gathered into a single unit, formed of myself, Lady Karissa of Norcross, Berta the Black Witch, High Warmistress Devon, and her newfound ally, Andrew McSteelnipples. So adventure was had as our force moved through Macy's, scouring the aisles for clothing fit for either gender. In the end, loot was had, but again a change proved eminent, for our party hungered and only raw flesh would suffice. The movie, already culled from its prime spot of 5:10 to 7:30, was demoted to 9:40pm. And so Sir Scott of Kennesaw was contacted, and told of our new destination.
Sushi Yoko.
The journey was perilous, fraught with many a misdirection and turmoil from within our own enigmatic crew. In the end, harrowed and hungry, we made it to the restaurant, where we found our party separated by an unfortunate lack of competent seating. Fortunately for us, we managed to eventually acquire booths across from each other. With that arrangement made, we placed our orders and proceeded to ferry diplomatic shipments of water and napkins across the vast aisle that separated our two great nations. Despite our initial friendly political situation, It was quite fortuitous that we finished the meal before we waged war due to a disagreement over uranium enrichment.
So finally, our bellies full and spirits bouyant, we arrived in force at the Peachtree Cinema. Tickets were gathered with little fanfare, and we slithered our way into our respective seats. The movie was all we expected and vastly more. The stunts were gut-wrenchingly amusing, the gags infinately beyond disgusting. And several, ranging from situations involving pubic hairs to plastic bubbles, exhibited a new level of disturbed inspiration. We were beyond satisfied by the time the credits rolled; we were enlightened.
The night continued past the movie, blending swiftly from film to arcade. Gilded coins engorged the pockets of each adventurer, and were spent swiftly upon a myriad of entertainments. I myself managed to prove my worth in the grand sport of Air Hockey, winning all but one game in ten matches. That prestige, that one satisfying loss, falls to the surprising skill and tomfoolery of Andrew McSteelnipples. His snapshot arm, melded with a quicksilver ability to lift his shirt and flash a brilliant steel nipple, were together enough to defeat me. But each consequent match ended in failure for him, as I had learned well his felicitous talents.
It was only after we had descended upon the venerable DDR machine, that our stamina finally waned thin. Our party gathered for a last chat outside the doors of the hybrid theatre/arcade, where we revelled in the day's adventure. It was there that farewells were given, and promises made. So beneath a waxing October moon, with the tattered remains of September still tangible and remembered, we parted ways and returned to our respective homes. Warmed. Welcomed. And content.