Boil it so it lasts and eat a little chicken while you're at it

Sometimes we convince ourselves that we have to lay it all to waste... make good on some kind of promise... assist on the already assisted shenanigans... but Hell to high Heaven! We're gonna make it. Field report: it is now 6:08 am and that sun's making its harming rounds. Know this: we had our drinks, we had the fun, we had to return to the club well after it closed cuz Chris L left his ID and plastic behind, and Jesse got us some $1.50 chicken. We met up with the delicious quartet of Mel, Sarah, and the bestest twins in the whole wide world, Jackie and Caro. Even if that dumbfuck "made in Dade" illiterate asshole who held the line up at the Taco Hell prolonged the inevitable, we're gonna nap well knowing we came out on top. Maybe my eyes will sting tomorrow -- but now I got the promise of gutting tannins coming my way. We're just a suicide of slow turners, but individually, we're all good guys who deserve a little drink and a little affection. Poetry now? Fuck that shit. Pabst Blue Ribbon! If I remember anything else other than the following blank bracket reference [... for all the things I promised I'd remember ...], know this, boil it. It lasts longer and chances are it'll be more legal. What? Work in an hour and a half? That shit's for people with time... and baby, I ain't got no time.