I stayed up all night again, listening to Little Barrie by Little Barrie on fucking loop, making coffee and watching the sunrise--feeling very pensive when I am actually super restless. Let me tell you one of the things that happened when Erin was in Los Angeles a couple of weeks ago. She shows up on Thursday night right before the bars close because her flight was delayed about two hours. If you for one second think that is going to stop me and Erin you are a dip shit.

I got a hotel in Hollywood and we bought a giant Costco sized jug of vodka and proceeded to drink like it was the end of the world. It was amazing really. At some point these dip shits were downstairs at their car, which happened to be right beneath our balcony & they were sort of heckling us, but mostly trying to be flirty, but barely getting away with being fat, disgusting fucks. At this point we were so fucking drunk it seemed like a good idea to piss on their car from above. Somehow Erin hit her mark and pissed all over that man's SUV while my sister mostly pissed on my feet. PLEASE DO NOT FUCK WITH US, I DARE YOU WE ARE INSANE TO THE MAX. Later on we lost my debit card while going to get smokes and some homeless person found it and went to FOOD 4 LESS and bought probably $80.00 of booze. I've never even been to a FOOD 4 LESS because I am from Los Angeles and I only go to gourmet grocery stores where things may or may not be organic, but they are more expensive and that makes them better. Then we went back to the hotel and the LADY UPSTAIRS SAID SOMEHOW THE NOISE WAS TRAVELING THROUGH THE CEILING, which only goaded me to become louder and then I am pretty sure Erin and I took some pills, but if you ask me which ones it was I will never be able to tell you because by this point I was on auto pilot and had drank about half that jug of vodka, and maybe more.

Around 8am, we went to Asia de Cuba for breakfast and mimosas because when you get that drunk the best plan of action is to keep drinking. So we took in the views and shit (check the photo above) and then I realized my fucking credit card was fucking gone & I think I might have flipped out or not, who knows? I do remember wearing red suede shoes because I am cool as fucking hell. After that I do not remember much. I guess we got back to the hotel and I blacked out. That's all I have to say about that until I tell about how we used the blow taxi because no one could get ahold of a coke dealer, and if you question wanting to start a lucrative business in your area, go with the coke taxi because you can really gouge prices when some fucking débutantes want blow at 3:45 am.

So I guess I can tell the story, which at this point is actually a lore, but we'll call it a story--THE STORY OF BUCKETFOOT. I went to Catholic school since forever. The stories I could tell. I bet you're thinking about the teachers and priests that fucked the students, and you'd be right, but really, the weird people are the better stories. I was in 8th grade. My sister was in 6th grade and Bucketfoot was in 3rd grade. NO MATTER WHAT BUCKETFOOT HAD HER FEET SOAKING IN A BUCKET. I am not even fucking kidding. You'd be walking down the hall and you'd see bloody crusty feet walking to the nurses office with her bucket in tow. That year I got scarlet fever FIVE TIMES. I was also in and out of the nurses office ALL THE TIME. Each time I would go in there and be like I AM BREAKING OUT IN CREEPY RASHES WITH A SORE THROAT AGAIN! I'd be confronted with Bucketfoot. She never talked, she just stared. Anyways, I am not sure why I brought this up in print cause it is way funnier when I tell it in person and hobble around like I have a bucket foot. Anyways, my friend Katie was in the same grade as Bucketfoot, and we were like I WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO BUCKETFOOT? And Katie was stoned out of her mind and she was like BUCKETFOOT, SHE'S PROBABLY DEAD. I guess it is plausable, if your fucking feet bleed excessively and you always have to be soaking them that you could die from terminal bucket feet. Right?

Here is a terrible fucking transition. I found an old camera I thought I lost, I guess that is what happens when you suffer from alcohol related dementia and misplace shit all over the country. So I guess photos will return post haste, or as soon as I am not so fucking lazy that I start taking them. I am vexed about Halloween. If I decide to go out it will be awesome, and I probably should because I am not drinking all of stupid November because it is better to cut down on the drinking now rather than keep up the monster like stride into December where things get fucking scary due to the amount of parties I will probably want to attend. Whatever, back to Halloween. I cut my hair even shorter. It is in a very short bob now and I guess if push comes to shove I will dye it fucking black and hack some bangs in there and put on the gold sequins dress I have for no apparent reason and go as Velma Kelly from Chicago and maybe if you are lucky I will kill you and my sister, even if you are not fucking her, but just for continuity sake. Maybe.