Excuses are like assholes.
Everybody has one and they all stink. Unfortunately, I am an asshole, so I will proceed to excuse my recent ten day absence from the internets. Actually, that's a lie. I've been on the internets, several times a day in fact, everyday since my last post. Basically, what it comes down to is, over the course of the last ten days, I've been on my scholastic grustle, on my legal hustle(shouts to Farmers Insurance), and doing the family thing for Thanksgiving. And what about the weekend? Well, Geezy like to drink, Geezy like to smoke, Geezy like to... well, I'm not exactly trapping or dying so I'll stop right there, but you get the idea.
Hit the jump if you would like to read some anecdotes of my absence.
friday 11.20.2009 eugene, or
The roommates and myself decided to have a 'holiday hullabaloo' p/k/a bad sweater party. To which, the majority of the homies, (and their degenerate hipster friends) neglected to show up in proper attire. BUT, there was a solid group of young womens coming correct in some cocktail dresses. Shit was PROPER. We(roommates) were taking turns pouring it up at the bar, girls were dancing, dudes were dancing with them, and your boy was having a good ass time. And then Gucci Mane boomed out the speakers, and we were all white-boy-wasted. I would probably say this was the peak of the party as it was all down hill from here. Here are some highlights as to how the remainder of the night unfolded: I repeatedly rolled my boy Rob and some chicken head trying to get down in my closet, then bathroom, then front yard. I finally asked him to excuse himself from the festivities (No Shots Fired, Rob). There was a major communication breakdown over the course of the night, and I ultimately ended up kicking everybody out because Crack(my boy since 8th grade and current roommate) thought his iPod got copped, it was in my pocket as a preventative measure against swoopage, and I just thought he wanted everybody out. Fortunately, after having spoke with some of the attendees, I established that all anybody remembered was having a great time and when "Wasted" came on, and didn't even realize I had bounced them from the premises 12 hour earlier. All in all, I would say the night was a success.
Whole Click Wasted: Crack and the homie Simms doing work.
saturday, 11.21.09 portland, or
So this girl I used to sweat super hard back in the day shoots me an invite to her birthday. She presents it as if it's a Shakira release party in Portland and our dinner and drinks are getting comped. I'm stoked on this idea. Get to see a good friend, get turned down trying to holler at Shakira, go to the city, all for essentially the price of gas. Wrong. Turns out it was just a Shakira listening party, there was no dinner, and we had to cop our own drinks. This night, however, was far from a failure, but let's start from the beginning. I ended up rolling up with my homies Snootz(Killa Cameron of still grimey's sister), Narky Ned, Murda, and Murda's girl. Things don't start very well as, per usual, I am running late and my ride has to come back to get me. Once I chastised for taking to long to decide what I'm going to rock to the evening's festivities (your boy is meticulous with his steelo), the rest of the ride to Portland goes well. And as an added bonus, I get to eat some of Jack's Crack, the most fire fried chicken in the world, found only in northeast Portland. We pick up Narky Ned right when we find out that this hotel is actually out by the airport, at the Aloft hotel. This turns out to be a great thing because it just so happens that the Oregon Ducks were about to beat the Arizona Wildcats in the greatest game played in all of college football this season, and Aloft has HD in our room.
(Left to Right) Me, Narky Ned, and Murda mid-game
Over the course of the double overtime victory, in which the Ducks topped the Cats 44-41, we consumed an inordinate amount of alcohol. This ended up with the following results: several embarrassing pictures and one video surfacing on my facebook, watching some random hotel guest trying to fight an old man, and our hostess passing out and yaking all over her hotel room. Once this happened, we said our goodbyes and cut out. With a sober driver, mother, don't worry. We meet up with a bunch of our friends at a bar downtown, and all of a sudden I end up with three drinks in front of me and a lot of work a head of me. This is where my night gets hazy and my bar tabs get steep (I totalled out around $70, but their were some guesses as high as $200). You know what the great part is, I woke up without a scuff on the Js, which is always a win in my book. My friend who provided me with a couch for the evening told me that, among the other ridiculous things I was doing and saying, my primary concern was keeping the sneakers clean.
Holding true to form, upon my entry into her car, or what she likes to call the Polar Express, Murda's girl went on to blast me again. This time for smelling like onions. I guess you can't win them all.
Hit the jump if you would like to read some anecdotes of my absence.
friday 11.20.2009 eugene, or
The roommates and myself decided to have a 'holiday hullabaloo' p/k/a bad sweater party. To which, the majority of the homies, (and their degenerate hipster friends) neglected to show up in proper attire. BUT, there was a solid group of young womens coming correct in some cocktail dresses. Shit was PROPER. We(roommates) were taking turns pouring it up at the bar, girls were dancing, dudes were dancing with them, and your boy was having a good ass time. And then Gucci Mane boomed out the speakers, and we were all white-boy-wasted. I would probably say this was the peak of the party as it was all down hill from here. Here are some highlights as to how the remainder of the night unfolded: I repeatedly rolled my boy Rob and some chicken head trying to get down in my closet, then bathroom, then front yard. I finally asked him to excuse himself from the festivities (No Shots Fired, Rob). There was a major communication breakdown over the course of the night, and I ultimately ended up kicking everybody out because Crack(my boy since 8th grade and current roommate) thought his iPod got copped, it was in my pocket as a preventative measure against swoopage, and I just thought he wanted everybody out. Fortunately, after having spoke with some of the attendees, I established that all anybody remembered was having a great time and when "Wasted" came on, and didn't even realize I had bounced them from the premises 12 hour earlier. All in all, I would say the night was a success.
Whole Click Wasted: Crack and the homie Simms doing work.
saturday, 11.21.09 portland, or
So this girl I used to sweat super hard back in the day shoots me an invite to her birthday. She presents it as if it's a Shakira release party in Portland and our dinner and drinks are getting comped. I'm stoked on this idea. Get to see a good friend, get turned down trying to holler at Shakira, go to the city, all for essentially the price of gas. Wrong. Turns out it was just a Shakira listening party, there was no dinner, and we had to cop our own drinks. This night, however, was far from a failure, but let's start from the beginning. I ended up rolling up with my homies Snootz(Killa Cameron of still grimey's sister), Narky Ned, Murda, and Murda's girl. Things don't start very well as, per usual, I am running late and my ride has to come back to get me. Once I chastised for taking to long to decide what I'm going to rock to the evening's festivities (your boy is meticulous with his steelo), the rest of the ride to Portland goes well. And as an added bonus, I get to eat some of Jack's Crack, the most fire fried chicken in the world, found only in northeast Portland. We pick up Narky Ned right when we find out that this hotel is actually out by the airport, at the Aloft hotel. This turns out to be a great thing because it just so happens that the Oregon Ducks were about to beat the Arizona Wildcats in the greatest game played in all of college football this season, and Aloft has HD in our room.
(Left to Right) Me, Narky Ned, and Murda mid-game
Over the course of the double overtime victory, in which the Ducks topped the Cats 44-41, we consumed an inordinate amount of alcohol. This ended up with the following results: several embarrassing pictures and one video surfacing on my facebook, watching some random hotel guest trying to fight an old man, and our hostess passing out and yaking all over her hotel room. Once this happened, we said our goodbyes and cut out. With a sober driver, mother, don't worry. We meet up with a bunch of our friends at a bar downtown, and all of a sudden I end up with three drinks in front of me and a lot of work a head of me. This is where my night gets hazy and my bar tabs get steep (I totalled out around $70, but their were some guesses as high as $200). You know what the great part is, I woke up without a scuff on the Js, which is always a win in my book. My friend who provided me with a couch for the evening told me that, among the other ridiculous things I was doing and saying, my primary concern was keeping the sneakers clean.
Holding true to form, upon my entry into her car, or what she likes to call the Polar Express, Murda's girl went on to blast me again. This time for smelling like onions. I guess you can't win them all.
Labels: g.e.e.z.y.
posted by LaGreezy at
7:34 PM
1 Comments:
i'm glad my name was established. i'm on this blog like u on that jacks. its my nightly read.
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