Friday, November 17, 2006
An open invitation
I'll probably either regret this or think it was the best idea ever later on, but I'm just going to go ahead and invite the internet to my birthday party. If you happen to be on the fair isle of Mannahattas tomorrow night, get your ass down to the West Village and buy me a drink to celebrate 28 years of debauchery, exhibitionism, and talking extremely loudly.
I'll be arriving around 10 pm with my posse of prurient lushes and plan to deplete the bar's entire supply of scotch. And as I promised MillerTime, I will be proudly reppin' 253 tomorrow night at this fabulous locale:
The Dove
228 Thompson St between W. 3rd and Bleecker
Its interior has red velvet wallpaper, just like a 19th century whorehouse, simultaneously appealing to both my skankiness and love of history. So show up and do some shots with me!
I'll be arriving around 10 pm with my posse of prurient lushes and plan to deplete the bar's entire supply of scotch. And as I promised MillerTime, I will be proudly reppin' 253 tomorrow night at this fabulous locale:
The Dove
228 Thompson St between W. 3rd and Bleecker
Its interior has red velvet wallpaper, just like a 19th century whorehouse, simultaneously appealing to both my skankiness and love of history. So show up and do some shots with me!
Labels: aging, alcoholism, Razzification, Razzyphiles
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I'm green with envy. Rest assured, however, that I will be doing my part to drain Seattle's supply of scotch as well; and I'll be thinking of you the whole time. Just make sure to save some liver tissue for Christmas break.
Happy birthday, Raz.
Happy birthday, Raz.
I don't know where Pecorino left her credit card, cuz I can't fucking remember where we were - but I submit my apologies to that Emo guy I shut down when he inquired after my skills on the pool table, and I submit a HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY to you, Razmataz.
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