this blog goes promiscous

As of today, some other friends will write their nonsenses here.

thanks for everything julie newmar

the last of the gang to die

Yesterday, one of my best friends told me he was leaving town. National catastrophe. I'm surely gonna miss him, he is a beloved character of the series we like to think that we are living in. Starting from season one, he was always there. People came, and people left, but as long as he remained there, dancing, drinking and hugging me, made me feel that it was ok to live in this city. Now I'm not so sure anymore.
It's not like I don't have any other friends, but the fact that everyone has left to pursue a greater goal somewhere else makes me think if I haven't stayed here for just too long.

Rearrangements must be made.

It's time to start doing something I'm proud of.

I will miss our chats, your links, your downloaded movies, your shiny boots and your everchanging hair. The way you sip your cheap whisky and those lines we shared. Your paranoia and your lovelife. The choices you made on that jukebox with your cd's on it. The way you dance to footlose and the way you love your grandpa's.

I've never met your family, and you never met mine.

Mazel tov my friend... mazel tov

wake me up, before you blow-blow

I had just woken up from a terrible nightmare-week, being hospitalized and so on, because I have to live in this shithole of a city where everything on the supermarkets is near it's expiration date, and me, being a single man living by himself have to live up to that single-man-living-by-himself hollywood image, where the milk in the fridge has smelly chunks of rotten cheese, but beers and booze are always at it's best. So , as if linda-blair-vomiting wasn't enough, I got cut off on any form of comunication with the rest of the world... (meaning msn and facebook) and no one noticed my absence. =(
On thursday, I was ready to emerge to a balanced lifestyle full of yoga outfits, tofu sandwiches and no cigarrettes. Hell, I was even going to stop drinking to get my blood levels of those tough figthing little guys called leucocytes back on normal parameters.

But I aint no lesbianveggan, no sir.

Friday came along and my parents dropped me off at this place where we were supossed to have some drinks before that muchly anticipated party ( yes you read that right, my parents dropped me off, but i'll explain at a later post). Some people were already there, doing blow, dope and booze. It took them 25 seconds aproximately to convince me to quit that healthy obnoscious peta-lover diet and had a big long zip of cheap whisky and chased it with some nice white snowy car-key up my nose.

Everything made sense.

Finally, we got to that party. To a place where a few years ago we wouldn't dare going in, but everyone acts like it's so cool to be vintage and it's no big deal 'cause I'm so trendy and hip to even care about where I party. Well guess wrong. This place looked great once, maybe, I mean architecturally it's allright , but the interior had long gone and was replaced to an eighties nouveau rich nigthmare where there's no air conditioned, or so it seems. In a city that goes as far as 44 degrees during summer, this is not such a good idea.

Now throw some 3 hundred or some sweatie smelly junkies, hippies, groupies and such to the mix, lousy music, no windows, no lights and those awful lounge-type sofas and you got yourself something worth of blowing up in flames. (if only I had that amazing power, carrie where are you?!?!)
But no wait, maybe you wouldn't need flames, cause this was already hell, or at least my version of it. All I could do was do some more blow, had some free whisky courtesy of our very own local-courtney-love, and mingle around trying to see who could be fun to stay with.

Dissapointment all over again, the few cool people were busy with their dates or such and the rest of us were so busy trying to catch some cool from one the working a/c units.

The night went on and everyone was in this kind of waiting for something to start state that it just felt like everything would end up as a big Fail.... dot org!
One of my groupies showed up, wearing makeup, and sweating like he was high on e,but noo wait, everyone looked like that. I kept trying to lose him but he kept following me, I even asked a friend for help but she just stood there like nothing. (thanks a lot vanesa!)
The odd team that publishes the magazine hosting the party appeared on stage to present the main event of the night, a side project from one of the most idolized bands for local groupies, maybe cause they seem easy enough to sleep with ( someone did that night so it proves my point). Acting like if they were receiving a lifetime achievement award they rambled on for about five minutes and finally shut up leaving the stage after no applause, no recognition and no condescention what so ever.
The duet started playing and everyone just panicked! They had waited 4 hours in that party that was now starting to look like a bad copy of " i'm a slave for you video " to listen to this!!!! Something that sounded like lounge, or some putumayo shit. There was rage! There was frustration! There was no more free whisky for me and certainly no more blow!!

Evacuation plans started to take action. Someone mentioned an "after" so we all went out to get ready to go.

Bad idea

My eyes rolled over my head and my mouth got as dry as madonnas pussy and everything now seemed inapropiate to go to. I jumped on a cab, got to my house, fell on the stairs, twice, popped some sleeping pills and went back to bed, hoping it was all still part of the nightmare that week was and that all would dissapear after waking up.

to be continued