I haven’t had a really good drinking night [with Frankie] in soo long. I miss Upper Marlboro. I miss Delveckio. I miss breaking my neck to watch ESPN shit that I wasn’t interested in. And making friends. And trying my best to make sure I was blinking correctly and not being drunk wit it.
And Dashawn. And salad bars. And taking turns pissing behind the AFRO Newspaper building…because we wouldn’t make it to the Safeway. And when we would make it to the safeway, we’d have conversations about penis size and without realizing, using merchandise in the baby aisle to demonstrate.
And leaving our barstools to go straight to the Catholic church at the corner of 29th and Charles and praying on the steps for 7 miracles, the KONY children, and for our jobs to adjust our pay to match how much weight we gained and couldn’t lose.
And watching Wipeout while doing shots of everything. And waking up the next day, going to work, and using our cell phones to recall the events of the previous night.
I miss good, clean, wholesome, “Yes I’m judging everyone else for being sober”, fuckery. It should happen soon. And with no one except mi loca Preciosa.