I was not going to go to the Bastille Day Block Party tonight, as I was low on cash, I had work to do for work and I had work to do around the house. It was like, 5:00 by the time I got home from The Boy I Currently Like's and showered and whatnot. Just not gonna work out this time around, you know?
However, I'm a sucker for pleas from friends, and it didn't take Macho Man much effort at all to get me to agree to go. Once I got there and we talked and I found out he and his girlfriend had broken up, I was glad I went. And I even had fun, despite the fact that I hate people and there were many of them there. Even Barbette trying to pass off something as a brat was most certainly not a brat didn't ruin my night. Look motherfuckers, I grew up on a hog farm and I have access to brats whenever I want. I know what a brat tastes like. You were serving something that tasted like spicy ring bologna. I'm on to you, jackasses.
On my walk home, I went past the Uptown, where my friends' band was playing later tonight. I looked in, just on the off chance they might already be there and wouldn't you know it, I see one of the band members wave at me. This is why I fucking love Minneapolis. I stopped in to say hi and give my regrets about missing the show.
How sad is it that I had to come home and make oatmeal for breakfast for the week and get to bed so I can work a long day tomorrow (after working on my day off Friday)? How sad is it that The Boy and I got up 10 hours ago and I'm ready for bed right now? How sad is it that I don't fucking care about any of that?
Meh. What are you gonna do?