Apologies all around, I know I have been blog-less for an unreasonable amount of time and I know you’s (been in Philly long enough?) are desperate for a little taste.
For those of you that have been living under a rock my life has changed pretty drastically since my last post. I got laid off my job and made a HUGE move to Philly pretty quickly. I am going to art school for graphic design working on my second bachelors so I can get tattoo sleeves and be weird while still getting a legit paycheck.
I work at a sports bar and have once again been blessed to be in the company of some extremely weird people. Last night we went to a tavern on south street where everything is 2 dollars (wells and beers). Being the asshole that I am, I still managed to spend an irrational amount of money because I refused to drink anything but Jameson and apparently homelessness is part of my inevitable future.
Cut to me discovering what seemed like an innocent game of darts in the back of the bar. I immediately asked to be put on the list and was rudely greeted by a man with a ponytail despite the current year being 2012.
I was put into some bracket where it seemed like I was at the bottom of the list and no one wanted to be my partner, but in my whiskey-clouded state I most likely deemed everyone unworthy to be my partner. I was teamed up with a man whose name was Katmandoo? or something crazy like that and looked a little like coolio but I think had a nicer face and the game was underway.
At some point, Ponytail (it was later decided he was mentally challenged and was at the bar by himself not surprisingly ) decided that I was not taking this game of darts seriously to which I responded “its just darts, bro.” and he decided to pick a fight with me.
I remember him calling me “fat” and “ugly” and the only thing I could think was that he had a ponytail so no normal person could reasonably be offended by anything that he said. Later on, he decided to just call me “it” which at this moment I still find to be incredible hysterical but my poor friend Bri was NOT having it and in her vodka-induced state I remember her screaming at him “It has a name!”. If I have my way I honestly will have that sentence engraved in my headstone and I can rest in peace.
Shit gets a little blurry for me here but I recall pretty much everyone in the bar being on my side and being mad at this guy and it sounds weird but I honestly felt incredibly loved.
Also, its been brought to my attention that I left at some point to go get a tattoo and thankfully the shop was closed because I probably would have gotten “It has a name!” in scripture on my lower back because I was trying to be funny.
To cap the night off I stayed at an apartment on top of a wig store.
I love Philly.