I Like the Nightlife
All I can say is, I can’t believe that in my younger days I used to do this shit every fucking night. As I slink mercilessly towards the big 4-0 I look back honestly don’t know how I did it.
It was a hell of a night. I spent all day looking at apartments, so I didn’t have a chance to eat all day. Literally, all I had to eat yesterday was a small pack of Pringles from the hotel minibar. After I got back from house hunting I grabbed a shower, threw on a shirt, and took off. I met up with the guys near Worker’s Stadium. When I arrived there were couples, ranging in ages from their 20s onwards, doing ballroom dancing on the sidewalk. It was the damnedest thing I ever saw. So while I waited I watched the dancing.
Then some really smoking hot Chinese girl came up to me and started saying something. I think she was probably a hooker, so I told her to fuck off. Of course, she didn’t understand a word I said, and she kept asking me something. For all I know it was, “I am an educated girl from a good family. I want to be your wife and bear your children.” Who the hell knows?
Then there was a raindrop. Then another. Then it started to fucking POUR, a torrential, blinding hurricane of water. And I had no jacket.
Once the guys showed up we went to a house party. Too many people packed into too small a space making way too much fucking noise drinking too much booze and smoking too many cigarettes. It was fucking awesome. Then we ended up going to a Halloween party at some techno club. That’s where I was until the wee hours.
So, about 4:00, I couldn’t take any more. I was exhausted, and that can of Pringles just wasn’t getting the job done, so I split. I went outside, grabbed a taxi, and handed him a piece of paper with the address of the hotel written in Chinese. This ignorant prick couldn’t find his ass with both hands and a map. We drove all over the place looking for the hotel, and eventually found it. (I was almost disappointed that the Chinese don’t tip, because I wanted to be able to not tip the guy to show how pissed off I was.)
So my drunk, wet, sweaty, smoky ass lumbered in to the room a 4:30, wrote the drunken drivel you see below, and passed the fuck out. And now it’s 11:00 am, I’m awake, and I feel fine.
How the hell I do this shit at 37 I have no idea. But let’s just say that I love, love this country.
Update: This was the place.
Can I sniff out a party or what?
