Since my debaucherous rock-and-roll lifestyle is so exhausting, I don't really feel like writing up a complete recap of last night. I'll just write about the highlights.
Lindsay and I went to this party in Wicker Park thrown by these guys. The theme was "Daddy's Goodnight Blowjob." I swear to god. Boys were supposed to wear fake mustaches, girls have their hair in pigtails, and everyone were to be wearing pajamas. Of course I wasn't going to dress up. I was going to go, drink a bottle of cheap red wine, and dance.
I think the moment that made me happy was when I watched some barely-legal indie-rock boy try to dance to shitty house music in his tight green briefs, only to slip off of the stage and land on the floor.
I also saw people doing cocaine, which was a first.
Lindsay and I danced on the stage and some girl made a comment about my "Hey, That's My Bike" shirt. "Great shirt, terrible movie," she said. I found her later and talked to her. I made my first real friend in Chicago, even though it could only be just another MySpace buddy, but whatever. Our friendship began because of one of my cool-guy tshirts and that's all I've ever wanted in life.
Lindsay and I made friends with these two brothers who were running the coat check. One of them was wearing a gymnastic uniform (which he claimed to find in his roommate's closet). I asked him to do some moves and he wouldn't. Then I demanded that he do some moves (I think I'm pretty forceful when I'm drunk), and he DID. Fantastic.
Oh, and after drinking a bottle of Yellow Tail Cabernet, I drank two vodka and cranberries. Typical loser Tyler move. When I threw up on a gutter outside, some nice Hispanic man came up to me and said, "Are you okay, my friend?"
I kinda had fun, only because I was drunk and hoping that random things would happen. I don't know if I can handle another party like that, though. The scene is just too exhausting.
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