and i want to know my fate, if i keep up this way

Fuck Uber.  It has been a royal bitch lately so I have made an executive decision to take my blogging business elsewhere.  And here, at blogspot, I have arrived.  Why, hello.

The past weekend was a whirlwind of fun times, hot weather, and incoherence.  I shall elaborate below.

It was kicked off with a venture of Mariko and Sarah to the humble apartment of Lucien and Tine (note: although the latter does not necessarily possess legitimate "ownership" of aforementioned apartment, she might as well given her pseudo marriage to Lucien built on the basis of bacon and Death Cab) on the Upper East Side.  We went out to a strangely kitschy (as in campy, as in tacky) bbq restaurant because it was packed full of hopped up twenty-somethings and offered thoughtful creations such as "frickles" (translation: fried pickles- sounds gross, but quite good in actuality) and fishbowl drinks that come with a billion crazy straws and a toy alligator.  We named our alligator Melvin.  Mariko wanted to name him Ally, but Tine wrote Melvin in Sharpie on his stomach before she could say otherwise.  We took Melvin with us to Coney Island for the Siren Fest, which is basically a day of free music where twenty million hipsters take over Coney Island and try to eat your soul.  It was a great experience.  I'm not being sarcastic, for once.  We got there in the afternoon, hung out on the beach, created a game (Have a Sand Ball) because we were impossibly bored and wary of swimming in possible STD/syringe infested waters, and then listened to good music.  Islands was amazing- just as good, if not better than when Angel and I saw them at Webster Hall.  Angel, Oli, Jown, and Sonja met us and boogied down.  It was hot outside.  Everyone was dancing.  Everyone was loving it.  There was one point where everyone was getting pushed around and we almost got shoved over one of those metal police fences but we were dazed anyway, so it was okay.

On the subway on the way back, everyone listened to Ipods and/or fell asleep.  Narrow Stairs has been getting a lot of play between our group of friends.  When we got back to the apartment, Carmen took a shower, Lucien tried to go to bed, Tine disappeared into Matt's room, and Mariko and I played a game called Drunk Driver (note: does not involve drunk driving, my friends).  That was mistake number one.  Kidding.  By the time Carmen got out of the shower, we should have stopped.  Instead, we decided to play Circle of Death (which is similar to kings and note: I can see why they call it that).  We watched Brokeback Mountain because it was the only thing on t.v. and like no one had seen it and called Courtney to ask her why Jake Gyllenhal was beating his wet clothing with sticks.  At some point, I fell asleep in Lucien's kitchen.  Then made my way to the sleeper sofa.  Couldn't tell you when.

Sunday was the Santogold concert in Central Park.  We got there at 2 and listened to random (although good) d.j.s that all sounded the same for four hours until Santogold went on.  Tine, Lotty, and I went on a seemingly impossible mission down Lexington Avenue to find salt & vineager chips.  The UES is full of high class whores and couture clothing, not delis, apparently.  Made it back just in time for Santogold.  She was good, but it wasn't amazing.  For some reason, no one danced.  Too pretentious, I suppose.

Lotty and I took the subway together to Grand Central, then parted ways and I found myself on the shuttle to Port Authority and subsequently, on a bus back home to good old New Jersey.

Oh and I forgot to mention, I got hit by a commercial truck a few days ago.  The whole side of my car is fucked up.  A piece came off.  It was sad.  My back/neck/shoulders hurt.  I have really bad black and blue bruises on my left knee and foot (which my Dad is convinced may be broken).  Hopefully the car will be fixed soon and I will be fixed soon.  We will see.

Well, that was my weekend.  Epic?  Yes, yes, and yes.