alecto - your little bluejay (pollytrance) wrote,
alecto - your little bluejay
pollytrance

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She Doesn't // She Doesn't // She Doesn't Get Enough

This weekend was fucking rad.

Lots of booze, lots of pictures, lots of nudity, let me tell you. The best part is that I have hard copy pictures of some of this said nudity. That roll is going to be fun to have developed.

Friday night was knives and mischief, booze and music, yelling and livejournal, cloves and cartoons.

Saturday night was debauchery to the fullest extreme. It began with a bonfire and some phantom booze, flaming hula hoops, and getting lost in Santa Cruz, but not in that order.

After the bonfire we ended up back at Mike's house and everyone was boozing. Under the impression that I was going to have to drive home, or at least to San Jo to crash with my homie, I refused the booze. We sat around talking and listening to Mike's Tom Waits covers and singing (House Of The Rising Sun!!) and debating about whether or not we wanted to go see The Princess Bride at the theatre at midnight. Elisa, Mike, Josh and Rob opted to stay at home and drink and watch Nekromantik, but Casey was kind enough to walk down there with me when there were ten minutes to spare. He was quite intoxicated and we found a lonesome vacuum cleaner and robbed it of its hose, which he was wearing around his neck and then tried to give to some girls who dropped it on the ground like the nasty bitches that they were.

We made it to the theatre and made snide comments the whole time about sex even though that's one of my favourite childhood movies, and then walked back to Mike's where they fed me rum and all continued to get more and more wasted. Quite the die-hard bunch, it was awesome. I hate rum.

Enter the nudity. Girl nudity, boy nudity, lots of photography. Enter Mike stealing my cat-ears every five seconds and getting a dreamy look on his face because he realised just how cool they were. Enter "the accent". Enter us all drunkenly singing Skid Row, Elton John, Johnny Hates Jazz, Boyz II Men, Chicago, Vanilla Ice, Cyndi Lauper, Pat Benetar, Phil Collins, George Michael, Prince, and everything in-between.

I went to bed at seven am thanks to the gracious Mike and Josh for letting me crash, and thanks also to Casey who said I could take his couch if I needed it. Then I woke up at 7.45 am and had to drive home because they ticket if you're parked... after I started my car and began my quest to find the freeway bleary-eyed and freezing, I noticed that something didn't look right. I was driving the wrong way down a one-way street. After that I had to be careful and pay attention.

This weekend was spectacular. I hope to have more like it and live up to my anthem. I'd also like to thank the poor souls who paid for dinner and cloves for my poor ass.

The weekend is not over, however. Later I am going with meine kleine lovely to Fresh Choice it all over the place and get the photos developed and have girl talk and make obscene noises at passersby. WE MISS YOU MICHELLE!

Quote of the Weekend goes to Casey. I was smoking a clove, and he somehow knocked its embers onto my jeans, after which his eyes got huge and he frantically began wiping off the ashes and embers, and saying this:

"Oh my God! O-M-G P-L-U-R!!"



He fucking spelled it. We were all so trashed. ♥

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