Tomas Ubik has crazy tales

Tomas Ubik, a close friend of mine, told me about his friday night, and he can't write so I choose to represent him in written form.

Friday night was off the charts, a regular stab at insanity, and a glorious push for the personal record for bender. It all began with a family joint among a tight knit circle of friends, one of whom is sober as a catepillar while his butterfly friends soar high as shit all around him suggests that we head to a grad party for some new police graduates. An sobering "riiiight" falls out of my mouth as he drops this little tale fact pulling into the driveway.

It ended up being alright, cause who knew that cops wernt as straight edge as their powder blue bullet proof tuxes paint them to be. More than four stories about snarky cops pilfering herbal plantations from local hydroponic artists only to be rolling some of the pursey up in this dudes bedrooom all to their sheild weilding selves. "Hey did you see my gun?" "riiiight".

From there we headed to the club, and rediscovered Tequilla. It always seems you forget about your relationship with Tequilla only to be reminded four shots in to the event. My friends had been dressed in ski gear all night, and had the sniffles to prove it. Naturally I took some of their winter clothing and joined the party. After the club, we found the pub and diverted our deep beats, to typical canadian culture feats like that of the tragically hip in a dingy cover induced scenario. Getting warm from the ski clothes, we had to change scenes, so we verged to a friends garage.

No really, a garage, where till the birds sang we drank, euchered, and continued to flaunt our off season gear to the neighbours fast asleep. At dawn it wasnt time for bed, and instead, made a stead to the closest $59 room we could find at the dingiest motel in the city. Patio entrance, no neighbours, and cash upfront made this vampire cave of a sanctuary the ideal hibernation locale for overly awake hollywood slalom enthusiasts.

Having not slept in 36 hours, the most logical move was to at this point bail from the motel and head for the futebol match which a friend had scored tickets for. Free beer on him at the game, and pretzel afterwards had me, even in my state, cheering the home lads on and on.

The game wore me out though, and after making it back somewhat alive, I passed out before the sun went down saturday night and did not see open eyes again til noon the next day.

Tomas Ubik, you have some crazy tales!

posted by mr. tomas ubik @ Tuesday, June 21, 2005