Pizza
After dessert,
we went to a warehouse party in Fishtown.
The street was lined with shiny late model imported automobiles, made glossier by the driving rain.
Only a short time ago, such parties were held in the lodgings of working artists, who dragged easels and work benches to one side in order to permit buddies' local bands to generate rent making keg guzzling enthusiasm at $10.00 a head,
and all the Yuengling Lager you could drink.
Now, The Future Yuppies of America, attending Ivy League universities across town,
split the doubled $2500.00 rent (plus everything) four ways in order to reap the pussy premium of living somewhere "cool" (if still somewhat chilly in the winter months).
It was a frat party, with dreadlocks. These particular youths had constructed a large-ish skate board bowl just inside the entrance. My female companion observed that these were the very same demographic, of full breeding age now, that she'd baby sat in High School. I, to an elevated horror, realized that I could (technically) have fathered every single one of the guests, even this one: at approximately 5' 10" 195 lbs, who's broad back, shoulders and powerful arms had been nicely augmented by a fresh buzzdown.
I ruminated on creating a new generation of baby sitter's charges of my own with buzzdown, 'till ultimately distracted by fragrant pizza summoning me from it's nearby corrugated lair. Hmmm...pizza. I liberated a slice, salty and slick, gliding it effortlessly into my mouth, as smoothly as I suspected that buzzdown's fat, veiny...
oh!
Look! There's a break in the tedious line which had been snaking endlessly from the toilet stationed next to the ping pong table, right in the center of the kitchen! Realizing how badly I had to go, I danced a truncated pee dance jig over to the bowl, and while gripping a 16 oz. plastic cup of Pabst Blue Ribbon between my teeth, unzipped with one hand and let go a steady yellow stream, the droning of which harmonized nicely with the clipping and popping trajectory of the ball on the green plywood playing surface just beyond my left shoulder. So positioned, dangling, with just the upper crack of my bare white ass presented to the revelers behind me, I took this picture as I continued to enjoy my greasy slice.
we went to a warehouse party in Fishtown.
The street was lined with shiny late model imported automobiles, made glossier by the driving rain.
Only a short time ago, such parties were held in the lodgings of working artists, who dragged easels and work benches to one side in order to permit buddies' local bands to generate rent making keg guzzling enthusiasm at $10.00 a head,
and all the Yuengling Lager you could drink.
Now, The Future Yuppies of America, attending Ivy League universities across town,
split the doubled $2500.00 rent (plus everything) four ways in order to reap the pussy premium of living somewhere "cool" (if still somewhat chilly in the winter months). It was a frat party, with dreadlocks. These particular youths had constructed a large-ish skate board bowl just inside the entrance. My female companion observed that these were the very same demographic, of full breeding age now, that she'd baby sat in High School. I, to an elevated horror, realized that I could (technically) have fathered every single one of the guests, even this one: at approximately 5' 10" 195 lbs, who's broad back, shoulders and powerful arms had been nicely augmented by a fresh buzzdown.
I ruminated on creating a new generation of baby sitter's charges of my own with buzzdown, 'till ultimately distracted by fragrant pizza summoning me from it's nearby corrugated lair. Hmmm...pizza. I liberated a slice, salty and slick, gliding it effortlessly into my mouth, as smoothly as I suspected that buzzdown's fat, veiny... oh!
Look! There's a break in the tedious line which had been snaking endlessly from the toilet stationed next to the ping pong table, right in the center of the kitchen! Realizing how badly I had to go, I danced a truncated pee dance jig over to the bowl, and while gripping a 16 oz. plastic cup of Pabst Blue Ribbon between my teeth, unzipped with one hand and let go a steady yellow stream, the droning of which harmonized nicely with the clipping and popping trajectory of the ball on the green plywood playing surface just beyond my left shoulder. So positioned, dangling, with just the upper crack of my bare white ass presented to the revelers behind me, I took this picture as I continued to enjoy my greasy slice.
posted by circleinasquare at 1:08 AM
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