What I'm trying to say is I'm moving to downtown San Jose. It's the new hotness. Everybody knows it. SOUTH BAY REPRESENT. Plus, I'll get this ultra-modern glass-and-steel sculpture of an apartment, at have the cost I'm paying now, and an obsessive-compulsive neat freak of an Eastern European coworker-girl/weekly drinks organizer as a roommate. What's not to like? And no, we're not going to be an item. Not each other's style. Not that way, anyway. The OCD thing, though; peas in a pod. That should work out well for keeping the place tip-top.
Last night, I went to a party at a warehouse in SOMA of some exclusivity. Other than the people I knew already, I talked to no one. I drank three beers, then I caught a cab back to E's place and popped a couple of sleeping pills before hitting the hay. Truly, my debauchery knows no bounds.
A friend from Donut Wheel is in the hospital as the result of a pretty nasty motorcycle accident on Highway 9 last weekend. As of Saturday, though, he's out of ICU and into a normal room, and best of all, he actually gets to probably remain bipedal. That's a serious improvement from the first few days. It's pretty weird to see inside someone's leg when they leave it open to drain. I think I'd be fucking paranoid about an open wound in a building full of the sick and diseased, but hey, I'm no doctor.
This just in: 9:54pm is "run the vacuum time" upstairs from this apartment. I hope it's done by 9:59.
They are! Ciao, bella, Callyshow is on.
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