the thing about the college that i went to was that it was right on the beach so only the suckers hid out in bars. and since there was so much to "experiment" with, the only reason that we ever drank was so that we had something to do with our hands.
when everyone moved to frisco we had grown up a tad and the beaches sucked so we frequented the bars.
saturday night we met everyone at my favorite bar on 500 Guerrero in the historic mission district. because smoking in bars is now truly against the law - unless you go to a bar that shines it off - places like the 500 aren't as crowded as they once were, and, surprise, your clothes dont smell of secondhand smoke in the morn.
and because so few people are now going to the 500, we scored a booth in no time even though it was a nice evening, even though it was Saturday and even though it was midnight! that would have never happened in the olde days. several irritating things went down but i sucked on Pabst bottles and tried to remember this poem that i wrote about the place, but the whole weekend my memory was tapped so i just grooved to the sweet tunes playing in the jukebox and enjoyed the company.
later we walked over to phillipe and anais's house and drank till 4:30am.
for the temporary exception of a suddenly jealous exgirl who wants to revise history, i have the greatest friends. have i ever told you that? i really do.