Tazered Orange!
We had a birthday dinner at
Aspens (right near
Lassiter) on Friday night. I had a Makers and Ginger but didnt get tanked. It was a medium length dinner. Good to see a sister who goes to work with the
Mexican Crew in a few weeks. The waiter tried to make friends by using our last name, but that shit tanked. I really think he was
gay even taking into consideration his wedding ring. I tried to order the cheese ass grits but the douche bag said "no, extra" so I ordered it to spite him. Left there and heard "
Since U Been Gone" on the radio. Great night. Were the last two customers at the package store on Johnson Ferry Rd. Asked the guy behind the counter if he got more customers buying Makers near Derby Time. "Do they get
DERBY FEVER?" - "I dont know what you are talking about" was the response. Flipped it over to a former HS hangout...the
Taco Bell parking lot in front of Kroger. We laughed at the pre-teens eating a taco with a cig listening to "Holla Back Girl"(sucknut_). While those ladies were getting spa treatments and buying expensive dresses and perfumes, my grandfather was busy trying to grow perscription drugs in some backwoods corner of
South Cali. Purchased the remainder of the 'greidents for the
Makers Mark Slushies. Also, I don't know tits about feminism, but I'm sure this elixir don't gibe with that a'tall. Still, some entertainment, and that episode of
Wondershozen was out of this world.
The next day the missus was somehow not hungover at all, even after running 4 miles in the morning. Later I watched
Breakfast At Churchill Downs, an alright show that highlighted the Lou-veau Rich party that happens the night before the derby. A List celebs just jammin. Watching Breakfast At Churchill Downs reinforced something I've felt for a while now, I should own a horse and name it either "
Still Flyin" or "
Coupla Smokies" or "
Butternut Fun" or "
Camptown Braces" or "
Hot Doggin' On A Flip Flop". It's easy to get emotionally and intellectually invested in a race that you have been to before and enjoy so highly minus all the boobs**. This year's race was one of the best I have paid attention to. At times it reminded me of the
4 Horses of the Apocalypse coming to party too and imagining who was their band. Excitement level higher. But after the race, and calling
Dark during a serious
SUPRISE ATTACK hammjamm with
DJ DOUCHEBAG, I tore up the bag of salt and pepper chips, and made L laugh with an impersonation of
Licky's drunk dial about blowjobs from the night before. After the race I stayed up 'til two watching
DJ DOUCHEBAG fucking rip
OTP a new asshole with his musical skills on the $30 boombox.
Monster Mash to JayZ. We shut the party down after the bottle of
Alize was cashed and we found ourselves yelling in the kitchen with no-one else there; I refused to leave the house to go to MJQ when the
numba one stunna was jammin OTP.
I didnt slept off my hangover the next day when I had to be a church at
9. Made it through, barely. Feelin' like I had
dueled Satan's Son the night before and won, again barely. Again, we didn't do shit. We talked to our moms, ate some lunch at a French place, and then returned to the couch for some television. We caught a few more episodes of
Kojak (still the weakest of the Williams St shows), and then Meet The Parents, which wasn't as good as I was expecting. Not too bad, or nothing, but not the absolute mind splattin' shit ever I anticipated. Actually I was only expecting "good." And that was our weekend. Oh so unbelievably exciting. What a hell of a way to live one's life.
**: as usual with the derby in person, The average expectation is to see 83 boobs (and about 20 dicks) around turn 3.