my ideal sunday night involves ghost town renovations.
and illustrated beer.
it's a matisse.
ghost town labs original.
<3.
30th
my ideal sunday night involves ghost town renovations.
and illustrated beer.
it's a matisse.
ghost town labs original.
<3.
13th-23rd
this is long overdue.
make peace with drinking on public transportation.
easily amused.
yeah that's a taxicab. in the uk, newcastles drank by girls indicate, uh... being dudes.
in the uk we'd all be famous.
SNAKEY B.
rock of rum giggle....2.
michael's band. UH!
and michael.
let me tell you a little story about portsmouth.
first of all i just really like this picture of rosie.
and pete is an excellent dancer.
which is why that happened.
cheap vodka and red bull was like my 4th kind of alcoholic beverage. yikes.
might explain why i don't remember this.
and why when this picture was taken i had been carried out of the club by security and had called kat to say "i need help. help. i don't know where i am." she asked if i was inside or outside and i said "i don't know." i then stuck my fingers down my throat behind a dumpster, failed, walked to catch a cab in front of the club, and then threw up by the entrance in the street. win.
disgusting, but indicative of the 3rd rum giggle adventure.
awkward but indicative of the best club i've ever been to. they could have been singing a number of things, but whatever it was i guarantee my itunes is familiar with it. heavenly.
spring break delivered, and somehow coming home didn't feel like surrender.
make peace with drinking on public transportation.
easily amused.
yeah that's a taxicab. in the uk, newcastles drank by girls indicate, uh... being dudes.
in the uk we'd all be famous.
SNAKEY B.
rock of rum giggle....2.
michael's band. UH!
and michael.
let me tell you a little story about portsmouth.
first of all i just really like this picture of rosie.
and pete is an excellent dancer.
which is why that happened.
cheap vodka and red bull was like my 4th kind of alcoholic beverage. yikes.
might explain why i don't remember this.
and why when this picture was taken i had been carried out of the club by security and had called kat to say "i need help. help. i don't know where i am." she asked if i was inside or outside and i said "i don't know." i then stuck my fingers down my throat behind a dumpster, failed, walked to catch a cab in front of the club, and then threw up by the entrance in the street. win.
disgusting, but indicative of the 3rd rum giggle adventure.
awkward but indicative of the best club i've ever been to. they could have been singing a number of things, but whatever it was i guarantee my itunes is familiar with it. heavenly.
spring break delivered, and somehow coming home didn't feel like surrender.
9th
speeches by the two cutest manchildren i know. bowling and the cheapest bar in town. and bringing my best worlds together.
now people screamin' what the deal with you and so and so?
i tell them bitches mind they business they don't hear me though.
cause i live my life to the limit and i love it
now i can breathe again, baby i can breathe again.
3rd
i have two stories.
tina dekker, badass at law.
two days ago my mom called me in the morning and told me about a jehovah's witness coming to her door with his daughter. she allowed him to do his speech, the daughter was only like 9. she took the literature he offered her. she said that she was catholic so she didn't disagree with anything he said and she appreciated his efforts. she paused after this. and then asked, "are you registered to vote?" he said no. tina is all "well i think you owe it to your family and community to do so. this is a very important election and you should really take some time to learn about the canidates and what they have to offer." at this point in the story my mom says to me "well i mean he did come to MY door." she's an opinionated woman, that tina dekker. we have nothing in common. JOKES. i'd also like to note that she sends me emails from her "good friend, michelle obama" and signs them (and emails unrelated to politics) "gobama." adorabs.
story two:
taquito, phil at law.
tonight, taquito, aka phil as of late, became enchanted with a bag of chips within another plastic bag. at some point in the rustling escapade that is phil's love affair with these chips (which has lasted several minutes and sounds a lot like things kat and i have simply learned to ignore), he comes darting into the living room like a shot from a cannon that projects insane kittens. a full 45 seconds is spent with jaws in this apartment dropped, watching philquito fucking DASH from end to end. i was pretty sure he was going to crash into something and die. instead he managed to break the salsa also in the bag, spray it around a bit, abandon said bag and chips in a corner, and go be depressed for a while. maybe you had to be there.
there is so much more. happy despite (because of?) the occasional shitshow. almost fought some man for ogling and being a perv to 4 girls bicycling in gold lame bathing suits. one of them might have been me. gold lame doesn't really lend to my dignity or job process. everyone i work with is sebastien tellier. kind of. i am tired but it's nothing compared to what i'll be wednesday at 1pm. or 4pm. or 11pm. or thursday, friday, saturday...ok you caught me, im never sleeping again. ish. last saturday was one of the funniest days ever and no one in the whole world will ever understand why unless your name is katalina williams.
"you will not be in girlicious. please hang up your boa." best thing i've heard in forever. besides the p-versions of a couple songs on saturday. but that's none of your damn business.
i have the voice of several angels. and the friendship of one philliam j. taquito. his head is in a cup. kat, stop watching grease. "i just realized that john travolta and john travolta are the same person. what if that was fat scientologist john travolta when she sees his reflection in the pool?" nobody's jugs are bigger than annette's.
you will not be in philicious. please hang up your phil.
i must be stopped. i'm bringing delirious blogs back.
-angelina in my spare time.
tina dekker, badass at law.
two days ago my mom called me in the morning and told me about a jehovah's witness coming to her door with his daughter. she allowed him to do his speech, the daughter was only like 9. she took the literature he offered her. she said that she was catholic so she didn't disagree with anything he said and she appreciated his efforts. she paused after this. and then asked, "are you registered to vote?" he said no. tina is all "well i think you owe it to your family and community to do so. this is a very important election and you should really take some time to learn about the canidates and what they have to offer." at this point in the story my mom says to me "well i mean he did come to MY door." she's an opinionated woman, that tina dekker. we have nothing in common. JOKES. i'd also like to note that she sends me emails from her "good friend, michelle obama" and signs them (and emails unrelated to politics) "gobama." adorabs.
story two:
taquito, phil at law.
tonight, taquito, aka phil as of late, became enchanted with a bag of chips within another plastic bag. at some point in the rustling escapade that is phil's love affair with these chips (which has lasted several minutes and sounds a lot like things kat and i have simply learned to ignore), he comes darting into the living room like a shot from a cannon that projects insane kittens. a full 45 seconds is spent with jaws in this apartment dropped, watching philquito fucking DASH from end to end. i was pretty sure he was going to crash into something and die. instead he managed to break the salsa also in the bag, spray it around a bit, abandon said bag and chips in a corner, and go be depressed for a while. maybe you had to be there.
there is so much more. happy despite (because of?) the occasional shitshow. almost fought some man for ogling and being a perv to 4 girls bicycling in gold lame bathing suits. one of them might have been me. gold lame doesn't really lend to my dignity or job process. everyone i work with is sebastien tellier. kind of. i am tired but it's nothing compared to what i'll be wednesday at 1pm. or 4pm. or 11pm. or thursday, friday, saturday...ok you caught me, im never sleeping again. ish. last saturday was one of the funniest days ever and no one in the whole world will ever understand why unless your name is katalina williams.
"you will not be in girlicious. please hang up your boa." best thing i've heard in forever. besides the p-versions of a couple songs on saturday. but that's none of your damn business.
i have the voice of several angels. and the friendship of one philliam j. taquito. his head is in a cup. kat, stop watching grease. "i just realized that john travolta and john travolta are the same person. what if that was fat scientologist john travolta when she sees his reflection in the pool?" nobody's jugs are bigger than annette's.
you will not be in philicious. please hang up your phil.
i must be stopped. i'm bringing delirious blogs back.
-angelina in my spare time.
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