if i can remember to associate it here, i'll post a link to any/all incriminating evidence from that night here (some are below, though these are just tolerable moments).
the first night we were out, we went to this horrible horrible place called "dick's last resort" (this particular location), and were told we were going to eat. instead they paid for a ton of drinks, and let us watch the house band who was decent, but seemed to be manufactured from the sum of dragging some lake. to explain a major part of the restaurant's modus operandi, they try making you feel like shit about yourself blatantly. in fact, an ongoing theme is that they'll make a paper hat for you and write some level of ridiculous quote on it (such as "i miss prison sex!"). the tablecloths are paper, and i had written down a TON of ideas for MY hat, none of which were taken. unfortunately, i ran out of room in front of me and started writing ideas down in a moleskine. i lost the entire thing. it's okay... it was only half full and was only from a couple nights before, the plane ride, and that day. but i can throw some ideas at you:
- my cock is a fortress of solitude.
- why does my mom's birthday remind me of the boy's locker room?
- this is the disney land of cop-a-feelia.
- the last chick i banged looked like lost highway from the waist down.
- the only thing gayer than me is the guy that came in my ass.
each time i offered a hat idea to the staff, they looked at me like i was some kind of foul-mouthed hooligan.
go hard or go home.