July 8, 2004

Tee hee hee hee.

There's something about going to an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet with my friend Flan that makes me gigglier than normal. That doesn't take much--I'm more of a sarcastic kind of guy in real life, and rarely giggle. But somehow, today Flan had that effect on me.

Flan is infinitely cooler than I. She's going to school in New York, the Manhattan School of Music, to be precise, majoring in Opera Vocals. She is also an electroclash diva, head of the local Amnesty Intl, and has the biggest boobs of anyone I know.

I don't know if it was the California rolls or her story that made me so giggly. I'm leaning towards her story because the sides of my mouth hurt (from laughing) and not my stomach (from bad sushi).

It would be a terrible thing for me to try and tell the story here, since I can't do sound effects nor give visuals that make the story complete. I will do my best to recreate her story, but I make no guarantees.

So my friends and I were walking on the lower east side when we find an art gallery called MF. Being my initials, we decided to go in. The art was kind of stupid and comic booky, and we were about to leave when the curator came and talked to us. She asked us if we knew GWAR. Do we know GWAR? Hells yeah we do. Well, the artist was the lead singer, and was the guy near the refreshment table.

I can't continue like that. It just gets too good, and I'm ruining it. Essentially, she and the lead singer from GWAR got drunk and trashed the art gallery.

Stories do not get much better than that.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.