One of my close friends had a birthday party for his son this afternoon. This meant I would be hanging out with about sixty toddlers. To assist, I did what anyone in my position would have done-- I drank.
And by "drank," I mean copious amounts of alcohol. So much so that when I arrived home at 6:00 p.m., I proceeded to immediately pass out until 9:30 p.m.
DON'T JUDGE ME, ASSHOLE.
Dinner didn't sound so good when I woke up, but it was necessary. Considering I was seriously hung over already, there was only one cheap option:
Yeah, fuckers.
Serious Pizza is actually good, which isn't what you'd expect from a meal that costs less than $25, right!? Then again, it is pizza. The biggest problem is its location-- near the intersection of MLK and Malcom X in a less than desirable neighborhood filled with failing tattoo shops and hipster fucks. I try to stay away from these places, because I'm not a raper (and I'm gainfully employed).
On top of that, the place is like catnip for hipsters. They're all there listening to the godawful shitty music that was recorded in a garage and nobody's ever heard of that's blaring from the crappy radio, bobbing their heads. Those fucks look like they just finished a shift at American Apparel, wincing down MAD DOG 40s because it's, like, hip, yo.
So yeah, all I needed was a slice and a Diet Coke. Chances are this is coming up later on anyway, because I am still feeling terrible from the combination of beer, Skittles, and mini-corndogs at the kid's party.
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