you can be a shorty in my ill convoy: June 2008

i was in a wedding in montana last week

it was full of the most bad ass bitches EVER. usually when you put 9 girls who don't know each other together for a week there ends up being problems. or at least someone turns out to be psycho. or boring. but this group of girls were fucking crazy, hot, and hilarious.

there was a party barge, which is a dock with a motor. you can put whatever you want on it and float it around. we put 9 girls, a million margaritas, two rottweilers, and case of corona on it. it was rad. then we floated it to a lakehouse that can only be reached by boat (or party barge) and slept there for two days in bunk beds.

when you fall in a giant mudpuddle because you can't walk in the size 9 flip flops you had to borrow because your flip flops had a drunken blowout and came apart, it's best just to chill out for a minute and have a beer.

then see which finger fits best in your nostril. for me, it's my thumb, because i'm fucking italian like that.

if you were wondering what it looks like to live off patron and chips, here you go:

then we had the wedding, which was at a ranch, where i learned that boobs have at least one more use than i previously knew about.

(insert "look ma, no hands" joke here)

congratulations!

55 years and finally married! go on wit your bad selves!

Along with six other women, they founded a San Francisco social club for lesbians, which evolved into the nation's first lesbian advocacy organization.

they still live together in the San Francisco house they bought as a couple in 1956. sigh.

i just finished the longest graphic design project in the world. i wish i could show all three of you what i've been working on, but that info is proprietary and shit.

we decided to go to the new york aquarium for a little break from the computer. i was starting to get computer claw and hadn't seen the sun in a few weeks.

no, my sunglasses could not be bigger, thanks for asking.

the aquarium was really sad. all the fish seemed depressed, which is i guess what happens when you live on coney island. coney island is the lowest common denominator of new york. the percentage of pregnant teenagers, ancient couples pushing each other in wheel chairs, and fat people in tube tops is way out of control.

i didn't know that walruses were the size of minivans, but they are. this was a little one, i tried to take a picture of the big man walrus, but this family of derelicts wouldn't leave it alone and i didn't want them in the picture. i took a pic on the fake walrus instead. blubber beach, ya'll.

i always feel crazy when the jellyfish get tangled. i want to straighten that shit out, it seriously makes me insane. OCD much, dee?

the octopus had The Sadness, too. i think it knew it was destined to die in an algae covered cage on coney island. most aquariums are kind of scummy, obviously, but the nyc aquairium takes it to the next level. i wanted to scour the whole thing with bleach. either that or just fire bomb the entire area and start over.

wow, how hot can you make a 90 degree day on the beach?

i have never been so happy to get back on manhattan island in my entire life. the sad, faded desperation of coney island is pretty intense and you can only kill it with tequila and hot sauce.