The Tower

Last night, I went to the Borders in Northridge before heading over to Gerard's place around my old stomping grounds of CSUN. Anthony, Ezekiel, and Azlynn were present. Dinner was lasagna, garlic bread, strawberries, blueberries, salad, and some kind of cake. Everyone else had wine. I settled for some kind of Holland beers and Newcastles (which prompted me to drunk text Newcastle fan Michelle in Nebraska). Azlynn's friend Kristen arrived while everyone checked out the pilot episode of Spartacus: Blood and Sand for the first time, of which Azlynn's friend was a fan, so she fit right in. The rest of our playlist was a bunch of Youtube videos (one where Anthony fell for a Thai "girl" ... until it was revealed she was a guy) and then X-Men: First Class. I drove Anthony home ...

RYAN: This is a weird question, but ... Is that a tramp stamp on your back?

The rest of the ride home was a pattern of stuttering, awkward silence, and trying to laugh it off as a response.

I woke up and ate before checking out my first Top Rocking class at the Debbie Reynold's Dance Studio. It was bomb. The teacher revealed he had been drinking all week.

RYAN: I actually wanted to check out this class last week, but I was way too hung over.
YNOT: Come anyway! I'm slurring!

Then I swam in the pool at the gym for the first time in years, realized I almost forgot how to swim, and gassed out after a lap. Some white chick in a black two-piece bathing suit with goggles and a swim cap had a nice ass. Her ass always resurfaced whenever rotating to launch off the wall to swim in the other direction.

Oh yeah, some chick absentmindedly walked into the guys' locker room.

Then I ran down Brand Boulevard with just my swimming trunks and no shirt on with everyone checking me out because I needed to dry up since I forgot a change of clothes!

I met up with Brandon, Mark, Ivan, and Erick at Charles Billiards for UFC 133, rocking my Taylor Swift shirt among a bar full of tough guys. Josselle from high school was there and caught up with me.

MARK: Tap that, bro!
RYAN: It ain't like that.
BRANDON: Make it like that!

I had three cups of my own pitcher of Blue Moon beer. I gave a cup each to Erick and Brandon. Apparently, Brandon's friend Dan who was with us at the last PWG show caught staph infection from punching out someone's teeth while working as a bouncer later that same night. Had he waited a couple more days to see the doctor, the hand would've had to be amputated! I ate 26 wings of the 75 that I was splitting with Mark and Erick.

Later at Tavern on Brand, Erick bought us a tower (bigger than a pitcher) of Sam Adams Summer Ale! The curly-haired, white bartender who seemingly had the least amount of makeup is in my database.

At home, I busted a #3 to said bartender and was so whiskey-dicked that I lost count of how many strokes, but for sure broke my old record and finished randomly to Arlene, whom I last saw at Heather's Birthday party.