Drunkopalypse: The Death of Sleep
Few things make for a better vacation than spending it with the right people. I don't care if I'm drinking a slurpee out of a supermodel's asshole in the No Questions Asked Theme Park, it would suck without the right people to enjoy it with. That's how San Francisco was. If I was alone or with one other person besides freyja, it would have taken about three hours before I deteriorated into an emotional wreck that survived off the blood of San Fran's unlimited supply of homeless people. The city looks and feels like it was laid out by MC Escher if MC Escher was a twelve foot tall blindfolded clown riding a unicycle. I'm not sure what that means, but it's the only kind of person I can imagine getting around that place without stopping at least once and saying "Wait, are you fucking kidding me?" The city is also more expensive than it has any right to be. My whole point with all this bitching is that San Francisco's only saving grace is being populated by some of the raddest people I have ever met, and it takes a special kind of rad to live in that city without drinking the blood of the homeless.
My time couldn't have been more well spent. I arrived last Friday where I foolishly paid fifty bucks to get to my hotel. Once I was settled in and shadowboxed in front of my room's huge mirror for a satisfactory amount of time, I called Al in order to get the party started right.
Her and Luminaire picked me up after I had consumed a superior example of shitty pizza. We drove over to Parkside to play kickball, which actually ended up meaning "drinking while yelling at people playing kickball." It should be pointed out at this time that I worked all day the previus Thursday and stayed awake afterwards to catch my early ass Friday morning flight. This means that by 2:00 PM, I hadn't slept, the only food I had eaten was an intestine destroying wedge of cheesy death, and I had begun drinking. This basically set the pace for the next twelve hours. I met a shitload of great people, and I even got my fill of ultimate fighting when my spine collapsed after failing to execute a proper double leg takedown on the deseptively dense Seanbaby. Here's the only pictures I have of myself from that night.
Look, it's still daylight! That means I can pretend I'm on my first beer as opposed to my fifteenth.
Flux and I killing our braincells while declaring our love for each others egos.
Saturday was the day of rest. And by rest, I mean fabulousness. It started out by being nursed back to health by freyja, who I can't stress enough is the best person ever, let alone best travel partner. We spent the day with masters of the Bay Area sixsixty and retroactivwe learning how to get the most out of a vactaion, which mostly consited of drinking absurd drinks in several relaxing locations. By the time Prom hit, I was well rested and ready to pound huge drinks and gigantic phallic cigars.
Prom was basically more of Friday night in better clothes, and there are far too many people who I either met or reunited with to name them all. Instead I will show you pictures with some of my favorite people on this site showing you why it would be too dangerous if we all lived on the same coast.
Sunday was truly the day of rest. I spent the afternoon slowly returning to the world of the living with dunx, Al, Timmy, and Luminaire. I won't tell you what movies were included in our double feature, but if you can guess from this pic, you're a better man than I thought.
Sunday night was the wrap up. I finally got to spend a little time with the unjustly neglected infinitelykaty, during which I aquired one of her gauntlets of ultimate darkness.
Unlimited respect for lil_tuffy for having the patience of buddha and the endurance of of a moon bound rocket. You deserve to be hoisted over my shoulder and spun around until your slippers blow off your feet, which is exactly why I did it.
Few things make for a better vacation than spending it with the right people. I don't care if I'm drinking a slurpee out of a supermodel's asshole in the No Questions Asked Theme Park, it would suck without the right people to enjoy it with. That's how San Francisco was. If I was alone or with one other person besides freyja, it would have taken about three hours before I deteriorated into an emotional wreck that survived off the blood of San Fran's unlimited supply of homeless people. The city looks and feels like it was laid out by MC Escher if MC Escher was a twelve foot tall blindfolded clown riding a unicycle. I'm not sure what that means, but it's the only kind of person I can imagine getting around that place without stopping at least once and saying "Wait, are you fucking kidding me?" The city is also more expensive than it has any right to be. My whole point with all this bitching is that San Francisco's only saving grace is being populated by some of the raddest people I have ever met, and it takes a special kind of rad to live in that city without drinking the blood of the homeless.
My time couldn't have been more well spent. I arrived last Friday where I foolishly paid fifty bucks to get to my hotel. Once I was settled in and shadowboxed in front of my room's huge mirror for a satisfactory amount of time, I called Al in order to get the party started right.
Her and Luminaire picked me up after I had consumed a superior example of shitty pizza. We drove over to Parkside to play kickball, which actually ended up meaning "drinking while yelling at people playing kickball." It should be pointed out at this time that I worked all day the previus Thursday and stayed awake afterwards to catch my early ass Friday morning flight. This means that by 2:00 PM, I hadn't slept, the only food I had eaten was an intestine destroying wedge of cheesy death, and I had begun drinking. This basically set the pace for the next twelve hours. I met a shitload of great people, and I even got my fill of ultimate fighting when my spine collapsed after failing to execute a proper double leg takedown on the deseptively dense Seanbaby. Here's the only pictures I have of myself from that night.
Look, it's still daylight! That means I can pretend I'm on my first beer as opposed to my fifteenth.
Flux and I killing our braincells while declaring our love for each others egos.
Saturday was the day of rest. And by rest, I mean fabulousness. It started out by being nursed back to health by freyja, who I can't stress enough is the best person ever, let alone best travel partner. We spent the day with masters of the Bay Area sixsixty and retroactivwe learning how to get the most out of a vactaion, which mostly consited of drinking absurd drinks in several relaxing locations. By the time Prom hit, I was well rested and ready to pound huge drinks and gigantic phallic cigars.
Prom was basically more of Friday night in better clothes, and there are far too many people who I either met or reunited with to name them all. Instead I will show you pictures with some of my favorite people on this site showing you why it would be too dangerous if we all lived on the same coast.
Sunday was truly the day of rest. I spent the afternoon slowly returning to the world of the living with dunx, Al, Timmy, and Luminaire. I won't tell you what movies were included in our double feature, but if you can guess from this pic, you're a better man than I thought.
Sunday night was the wrap up. I finally got to spend a little time with the unjustly neglected infinitelykaty, during which I aquired one of her gauntlets of ultimate darkness.
Unlimited respect for lil_tuffy for having the patience of buddha and the endurance of of a moon bound rocket. You deserve to be hoisted over my shoulder and spun around until your slippers blow off your feet, which is exactly why I did it.
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glad you enjoyed yourself