By any standard, 12-hours is a heap of drive. It is also a theoretical limit; no drive, of supposedly 12-hours, is actually 12-hours; "I'll be ready in a minute, depending on the woman, could be as many as three hours. We left at 9 AM and arrived in Boulder at 2 AM, just in time for Jay to take his spasming back to the ED (somebody tell Max 'Dr. Sweet Tooth' Pollock I did not say ER). Class Project is now called Geriatrics, whose forthcoming album, Shingles & Back Pain, will be available at Wal-Mart nationwide in October.
I spelled Nate's last name wrong in a previous post. I don't actually know how to spell it, but I know I did it wrong. We went out Friday as a group of nine, to Studio 54 in the MGM. Best $9 vodka drinks in the desert, and plenty of those classy half-strippers only Vegas provides. The crew of nine included: PTP, Seth 'Tayshaun-but-don't-call-me-Nat' Turner, Nate TeplitzK¥, Max Wolitzky, Sarah and Meredith (friends of Zach who had the fortune of sharing in the '12-hour ride' back home to Boulder).
If nothing else I love the brevity of Vegas excursions. It's like a vacation on steroids. Pack in as much hedonistic ritual as possible and then get the hell out of Dodge, before the hangover sets in. We are now on the way to Sioux Falls, which is supposedly in South Dakota. There are either falls, or a memorial of a serious Indian defeat in Sioux Falls. On an odd note, Does Sioux Falls avoid the inherent eroticism of the 'x' by falling back on a Franco-something pronunciation? Either way, I'm excited to see Mount Rushmore, especially since they added W, Karl Rove and John Ashcroft to the mountain. That W. is so dreamy.
xoxo
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