Fun Times

I had the best fucking time tonight. I went to my all time favorite bar, with all my best friends. And there was a big surprise! There was live music and dancing!!

Excitement! So everyone was having an absolute mind-fuck of a good time and screaming and yelling and fuckingoodtimesman!

Except for the fact that almost everything I just said is a morbidly obese LIE.

First of all, this bar is not my favorite bar. I actually regard it about the same as I would regard a dingleberry hanging off the butthole of a vulture that was eating my family. The anorexic manatees that end up going there are the Kings and Queens of the Kingdom of Fixedgearbikefuckeryland. They all have the silveriest of spoons hanging out of their mouths. The spoons were shoved into those mouths by the Angel Gabriel himself upon popping out of their divorce-rich moms, most likely in a holistic water birth in the middle of their sun-drenched Hamptons "sitting rooms" (whatever the fuck those are), while the midwife crooned excerpts from 'The Adventures of Tom Saywer' and 'A Clockwork Orange' (because those moms wanted their kids to be ready for whatever washed-up trend that might pop up in the future).

I forget what I was talking about. I don't know if any of that made sense.

Anyway, this stupid bar is behind my apartment and I can always hear the intelligent conversations wafting through the air.

"Hey, man. 'The Life Aquatic'."

"Seriously, dude."

"Hey guys, but also 'Fight Club' AND the soles of my shoes are made of wood."

"Whoooaaaaa, man. You went there."

"Fuckin' rebel, dude."

"Yo, doggs, is that a chick or a little boy?"

"Either way, let's all take turns fucking it."

But LUCKILY, on the other side of my apartment is the always faithful gas station. If I didn't have the heavenly gas fumes pirouetting into my nose, I might never get to sleep.