Wow. What a night. My friend Justin came over and brought his friend Ryan. We had a rip-roarin' good time. Chillin' and being a fire hazard in the 231, droppin' the eff bomb, and ridin' in the back of the El Camino. Breakin' all the laws tonight. Nothing like praying the cops won't see you when you come rollin' out of the broken tailgate as you're flyin' over speed bumps and wallowing in sticky goo. But we made it to WalMart and back all in one piece, despite the scare of when I thought my cell phone had gone overboard. But I found it. Anyhow, it was a barrel of mankeys and we have about a whole roll of FujiFilm to show for it. But we gotta save some of those pictures for Saturday night. That's when our boy is playing the Stables with The Dishwashers. We've been planning for this night for sometime. Everybody better show up decked out with an "I Love Justin Downing" tshirt to show the love for everybody's favorite drummer. That's what he says anyway. Me? I haven't even heard him drum, but boy, have I seen him tear up his air drums... Anyway, the show starts at 7:00. The Dishwashers do their thing 'round about 9:00. I better see you there. You'll see us. We'll be sportin' some puff paint and hanging out with Ryan. We'd hate for him and his little pumpkin to have to sit by themselves.
Well, it's verging on medianoche. Midnight, that is. Sorry, a little Spanish slippin' out on me. Anyway, it's 'round about midnight, and I've accomplished about nothing. It's Wednesday. Do you know what that means? It means it's productive day, but it sure wasn't. Laundry didn't get done. Floor didn't get vacuumed. John's water didn't get changed. (That's our fish. John Mayer Cusack.) I have final revisions of my poems due tomorrow, and I'm not even half done with them. It's good to slack out of college. It's hard being rock 'n roll.