I should not know, I could not say, I would not tell you anyway.

Is this the same day that me, pete, billy, and bailey arrived? The same day we all ate pizza pockets in a cab? The same day we all went downtown? The same day we all got fucking loaded? The same day where you, me, and andre went down the stairs in that container? The same day where you started dancing randomly to no music?


Hey, listen: I was definitely dancing to either Gigi or Yatta... so don't sass me Fancy!

This weekend was a huge write-off. It's all a blur.

Somewhere in that blur is my wallet -- God rest its leathery little soul. RIP Wally, 2002-2005.




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