Friday the 13th Part 27: Ninja Takes Manhattan
This week is starting to look so damn sexy that if doesn't cut it out, I'm going to dry hump it while whispering tender words of affection in its ear. Which is probably a good thing since I just looked down at myself and realized that my lack of any desire to go outside the last couple of weeks has resulted in some less than acceptable choices in evening wear. For an idea of what I'm talking about, take a look at my new profile picture and try to imagine a whole day in my home boring enough to inspire that and many other types of total stupidity. I won't go into great detail about the rest, but let's just say that my Lil' Homies collection are calling the Mexican NAACP right now.
As for the week itself, well, like I said. I'm going to bone the living soul out of it.
- Tonight I'm going to play an unstoppable round of laser tag. The last time I went, I was caught totally unprepared by the complete 180 degree turn modern laser tag has taken from the post-apocalyptic vision of laser combat depicted in my childhood. As it stands right now, laser tag is for pussies. You could almost hear the snapping sound of my will breaking when I was told by the less than enthused laser representative that not only were there no hover-boards and go-karts, but the focus of the game wasn't even about shooting other people. It's about scoring points on the opposing team's goal. Rejecting this ludicrous heresy at first, I played pure gangsta' style and straight up stalked any motha' fucka' that got in my way. I was horrified to find that all combatants were either standing directly under a goal, mindlessly shooting at it, or on their way to do just that. So you could imagine how fucking stupid I looked rolling from around a corner to gun down people who scarcely cared if I was shooting at them or walking up to them and pointing the laser beam directly into their eyes in the hopes of giving them cancer.
This time shall be a whole different animal. I've assembled a team of ruthless laser gladiators. There is already a pre-game agreement stating that whoever is caught bolstering their score by shooting the goals will be sentenced to be labeled as a homo for all eternity until the end of the night.
- On a related week of ass-kicking note, my brother has just returned from Colorado just in time to offer his support in my new laser based campaign of terror. Plus he's brought good prescription drugs. Epilepsy schmepilepsy. I'm sure he'll be fine while I'm coasting through life doped up on his Lamictal.
- By the time this weekend hits, I'll be fully ready to tear down the walls of decency with the aid of my SGNY homies and without the aid of pants. It's been far too long and it'll be good to make an ass out of myself in front of familiar faces.
This week is starting to look so damn sexy that if doesn't cut it out, I'm going to dry hump it while whispering tender words of affection in its ear. Which is probably a good thing since I just looked down at myself and realized that my lack of any desire to go outside the last couple of weeks has resulted in some less than acceptable choices in evening wear. For an idea of what I'm talking about, take a look at my new profile picture and try to imagine a whole day in my home boring enough to inspire that and many other types of total stupidity. I won't go into great detail about the rest, but let's just say that my Lil' Homies collection are calling the Mexican NAACP right now.
As for the week itself, well, like I said. I'm going to bone the living soul out of it.
- Tonight I'm going to play an unstoppable round of laser tag. The last time I went, I was caught totally unprepared by the complete 180 degree turn modern laser tag has taken from the post-apocalyptic vision of laser combat depicted in my childhood. As it stands right now, laser tag is for pussies. You could almost hear the snapping sound of my will breaking when I was told by the less than enthused laser representative that not only were there no hover-boards and go-karts, but the focus of the game wasn't even about shooting other people. It's about scoring points on the opposing team's goal. Rejecting this ludicrous heresy at first, I played pure gangsta' style and straight up stalked any motha' fucka' that got in my way. I was horrified to find that all combatants were either standing directly under a goal, mindlessly shooting at it, or on their way to do just that. So you could imagine how fucking stupid I looked rolling from around a corner to gun down people who scarcely cared if I was shooting at them or walking up to them and pointing the laser beam directly into their eyes in the hopes of giving them cancer.
This time shall be a whole different animal. I've assembled a team of ruthless laser gladiators. There is already a pre-game agreement stating that whoever is caught bolstering their score by shooting the goals will be sentenced to be labeled as a homo for all eternity until the end of the night.
- On a related week of ass-kicking note, my brother has just returned from Colorado just in time to offer his support in my new laser based campaign of terror. Plus he's brought good prescription drugs. Epilepsy schmepilepsy. I'm sure he'll be fine while I'm coasting through life doped up on his Lamictal.
- By the time this weekend hits, I'll be fully ready to tear down the walls of decency with the aid of my SGNY homies and without the aid of pants. It's been far too long and it'll be good to make an ass out of myself in front of familiar faces.
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How was the wedding? And the bar?