Grab ass Lord. People were just grabbing everyone's booties the other night. I mean, I was guilty myself. Grab Grab Grab.
Speaking of grab ass, I kept trying to take Eric "ERIC" Willhelm's wallet all night. It was really hard to do. How do pickpockets do it? I mean, we had plenty of distractions, but I just couldn't get the damn thing out of his back pocket. It's like I missed that workshop in grifting school.
We were at this birthday party in Brooklyn's smokiest bar, and the poor birthday boy after hours of jumping around and swallowing drink after drink, went behind the bar and threw up in a garbage can. Right near everyone's jackets. Dry cleaners everywhere are cheering. Girls with mixed drinks were running away holding their noses.
Graffiti I suppose most of us have pretty common names. I look through my address book and there are all sorts of Eric's and Jeff's and Leslie's and Evan's and Matthew's and Dan's. On that note, it was still weird as hell to stumble into a bathroom in the bar Saturday night and see on the wall:
"rich has creepy hairs on his ball sac"
WTF. That graffiti hits home, you know. "Creepy hairs"
Graffiti II In the bathroom at work, so someone wrote on the stall:
El Barto
Status Btw, 6 days after my birthday and no stigmata!
Achoo It's odd. I will get a cold two or three times a year, like most of us do. But, many times I can trace to the exact point when I got it. Two nights ago I sneezed and instantly felt icky. I told Mrs. Robot, "I think I am about to get sick" Now I am all sneezy and watery eyes and sniffles. Damn you snot! Damn you to hell!
