..>..>

[

music

|

Bomani Armah - Read A Book

]

so it was not my typical friday evening, i must say...
after a sorrowful trip to the apple store with amanda to drop off her quite dead mac we made a trip into brooklyn to 3rd ward to check out a free art show, which by the time we got there, consisted of lots of tacks on the walls holding up clips which were now attached to nothing.
the art had been sold, the music was bad and all they had to drink was miller high life, the champagne of beers.
sigh.
i knew i had to leave when a guy came up to me, put his hands on my chest, rubeed a lil while saying, "here, let me help you with that.", to which he unzipped my yellow hoodie as i said, "umm.. i was fine, thanks.", but he persisted, that this was a far better look, with the red of my chest coming through the mustard...
i slowly backed away.
i left amanda there with her friend and made my way to meet the always lovely taylor smith at kelloggs, as she was not having the bestest of days either.
we had omelettes, then went off to Royal Oak where we kicked a couple of girls asses at foosball, did a diddy on their kind of empty dance floor and left to meet kathryn at barcade.
on our way we couldn't help but notice a party happening on a balcony of a 2nd floor apartment.
we figured we'd say hi.
and to our luck, the buildings front door was open, and to my luck i found a pair of nifty pink/black fingerless gloves on the floor.
score.
so we go up the stairs, and voila, the apartment door is unlocked too.
we walk in, i nod to a few people, and we hit the kitchen.
taylor's taking bites out of random pies she finds as i'm checking for bottles of alcohol which weren't empty, failing miserably.
we make our way to the living room, blending in nicely, and spot a cat.
taylor immediately seizes it and i go for it's head.
it was a most adorable kitty, for sure.
we move on to the balcony, our north star of party crashing, at which point taylor starts blurting to everyone how we barged in on the party, amusing everyone except one lady in particular who seemed to grow ever more irritated.
i'm guessing she lived there...
so we backed out to the living room, mingled with a fellow who wanted to take our picture to either document our exploits for fun or for evidence...
anywhos, we leave on our own...
taylor with a stomach full of pie, and i with a nifty new pair of gloves.
we made it to barcade, and it was a rather disappointing and uncharacteristic evening for me as i lost... at ms pac man.. to, of all people, scott fucking fortner.
"who?!?", you may ask.
to which i answer, "exactly."
sigh.
more kelloggs followed by sunac shopping and keeping taylor warm while waiting for a cab to take her home.
goodnight.