Thursday, June 30, 2005

The one about Diver (mostly)

After winning a rousing "race to 9" tonight in pool by a score of 9-4, I was still not sated. Imagine that.

So, I decided to go to "Boheme," the only true cool place in this wacky city, looking for a beer and a sympathetic ear. I found one of the two, guess which. However, they were playing the entire "Demon Days" album by Gorillaz (which, with each listen, I become more convinced that the guy from Blur is a genius). I hung around for the entirety of said album.

While enjoying my Boulevard with an orange slice (for some reason, this is like the only bar/hangout in this city that has orange slices on hand, I know, I don't get it either), I was attacked from behind from a guy who only identified himself as "Diver."

By attacked, of course, I mean hugged. For an inordinate amount of time.

While turning around and giving my usual greeting that I give to males who are so bold to touch me without my permission ('Sup bro), Diver instantly realized that I was not who he had originally thought I was. He apologized profusely, so that was cool.

While driving home, I saw Diver on the street. He gave me the wave. I gave him a honk of the horn. How exciting.

In conclusion, everyone should listen to Bloc Party or die.

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