All day there has been an overall feeling of malaise coursing through my body. Of course it's all my damn fault but fuck if I'm not gonna whine about it.
Went to a bar that was, at best, a dive. At worst, a hole. I'm talking not wanting to touch the walls type of gross. Good ol' Cheif Ike's in Adams Morgan (which I kept referring to as "Captain Ike's" - got my ranks mixed up there). Perhaps the dusty din of the place should have been a warning sign to turn around and peace the hell out - or the fact that the jukebox did not have "Flap Your Wings" by Nelly. But I paid my 10 bucks and I was going to suck that keg dry - and the sad thing is we did actually empty the kegs before the night was up, come to think of it, they were dry by 11 or something utterly rediculous like that. Though I wanted to drop down and get my eagle on, I couldn't and was forced to listen to some band play orignal music that no one cares about. You don't play your unsigned, unknown band's music at an event that has the words "all you can drink" attached to it. If I am too drunk to realize that picking up a random cup off the table to play flipcup is completely unsanitary, then do you really think the funk of your song that you wrote while in rehab will really move my soul? Uh no.
And though the bar was being held together by duct tape and there was some bitch wearing leopard print leggings - and not as a joke - and a gay Mexican kept putting his hands in my crotch and my own roommate excluded me from his flipcup team, I had pretty good time.
Lord Jesus my head! I just might throw up in the middle of writing this post. I would even transcribe it for you. Something like "blaugghhhhhhhhh". Skills, I know.
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