Moving weekend was fairly painless. Of course I'm speaking in relative terms where painless = being slowly eaten alive by rodents with dull razer blades for teeth and lemon juice for saliva.
You know what's funny about moving guys? There tends to be two of them: One's the large but gentle oaf, and the other's the small wiry guy who can lift four times his body weight. There must be some clause in the moving guys union contract that requires the "Of Mice And Men" combo.
After moving hell was done, we headed over to Tab's housewarming party. Woman's pad is straight out of a Pottery Barn catalogue, complete with fricking topiaries. Topiaries for God's sake! The meticulously manicured midget freaks of the tree world.
We got there pretty late, so by then everybody was fairly off their collective asses from the popular mixture of Raspberry Stoli & 7-Up. Sadly, the so-called men drank this effeminate concoction as well. And this is what transpired:
I know this kind of stuff makes puppies cry, but both these guys have girlfriends. Pinky swear.
First time I've ever played Cranium. It combines every game known to man into one headache-inducing game: Trivial Pursuit, Pictionary, Charades, Wheel of Fortune, Dildo Sculpting, etc.
If this picture wasn't taken, you'd never believe me.
Since his BLT promo duties are done, Rog no longer has screaming Wellesley girls tearing off his clothes - now the spoiled bastard has to do it himself.
Alright. Flying out to New York in a couple of hours, and I just found out my hotel's nowhere near a fucking Krispy Kreme. See you Friday.
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