tonight's dance party started with Cyndi Lauper and Duran Duran and preppy style two-stepping, then 60s surf music and go-go moves, then finally dizzee rascal and a combination of those things plus my own version of twerking, which is just about as un-sexy as twerking gets, i think.
i'd still be dancing now except some asshole decided it would be kicks to fishtail and do donuts on the narrow ass street behind my apartment and shit like that tends to put me on edge. shellshocked. battle scarred. tired than a motherfucker.
but you know what's boss? the way that Apple likes to pretend that words like "motherfucker" don't exist when it comes to spellcheck/auto-correct, you ever notice that? it's why i get a kick out of having Siri call me "son of a bitch".
it really is the little things.
i also love how i live in a neighborhood where the paper delivery guy gets the business for doing his job and yet this bastard on the next block has been screaming drunk and having his own personal sideshow for the last 20 minutes and there is nary a cop to be heard. i mean. i'm no snitch, so i won't be calling them but i figure one of these uptight motherfuckers would.
ah well.
the other day we went walking through the hills and found this most perfect park of a lifetime. that was primo.
shit. i have work tomorrow.
whatevs. sleep tight.
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