The title of this post reminds me a tad too much of Kunle tweeting about Liverpool, but that's just how I feel about the smooth taste of Keystone Light. Took a shower, drank a stone, crushed it against my ass ineffectively, you know how I do. One beer down, 24 to go. At sixteen hours left, that's a beer and a half per hour. That's eighteen ounces of beer per sixty minutes, so .3 ounces of beer per minute. That puts this into perspective of absolutely nothing.
Well, now it's probably time to put pants on. God I'm excited. Outfit for the day: fratty Newman's tank, garish purple vest, sweatpants, and, of course, the TRUE hat, maybe the greatest present I have ever received. It's up there.
Man-Ryan just woke up and is getting his funky shower on, so I'll wait for his rude ass before making the trek out. Hm...maybe I'll go to the U-Sta and get some chips. THERE ARE NO RULES ABOUT HOW MANY CHIPS YOU CAN EAT.
Yeah...I want some chips.
Beers: 1
Pees: 0
Mood: Motherfucking yes I am ready
Music: Suburban War- Arcade Fire
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