NO! We really don’t. This has been a weekend that varied from the norm substantially.

Friday Night::
Drunk grocery shopping, albeit one of the more entertaining things in life, is honestly not the best idea… at 2:30 in the morning no less (Hopefully no one goes drunk grocery shopping during the day). Why? Because you end up spending a decent amount of money on foodstuffs that you would NEVER eat when you’re sober.
I recall laughing so hard that I fell over in the cheese aisle. The fact that we were running around with a box of Life (Cereal) was the pinnacle of irony and hilariousness to the 3 of us. And smooshing my face between to cans of Heinz beans (English breakfast style) brings Amy to tears (duly noted).
We stole some flowers, and some yogurt covered pretzels. What a rush.

Saturday Night::
Roni Size isn’t that great, though the few of us who knew what real drum and bass is went on a little trip down memory lane with Brown Paper Bag, and then stood there with a complete look of disgust and disinterest as the dance floor erupted to the sounds of clown-step and terrible wobble (Dear Roni, beat match next time xoxo). “I know what would make this better” I leaned over and yelled in to Carlee’s ear. She rolled her eyes at me. Bitch.
I decided that MC Dynamite will be my friend when I move to London. Why? Not the slightest clue. He could be a giant prick for all I know… I suppose we’ll see.

On another note::
I distinctly recall myself saying to a friend on Friday night, “Gin is not made to be shot. You should never take shots of Gin…
Guess what I did Saturday night? Yeah, we took shots of Gin… Gordon’s nonetheless.
“But its London’s Finest!”
“Shut up Carlee!”
We were standing in the breezeway of my complex around Amy’s trunk. Across the road 3 floors up, 5 “gentlemen” (and I use the term loosely. They were not men, by ANY standards, calling them boys would work if we were basing it off intellect) were crowded onto their balcony, drinking and watching our every move. We all looked smashing so really, who wouldn’t. Anyway… the faces we made were by face the most atrocious I’ve seen in quite some time. “I think I’m going to throw up!” Carlee said. The majority of following phrases consisted of various swears and stomping the ground as if it would somehow get the taste of pure pine trees out of our mouths. It did not. My last and unfortunate swig of the evening went down… then came right back up onto the breeze ground. I have to say, I’m quite impressed with myself. Pure gin, in and then out like the fountains outside of Caesars Palace in Vegas. It happened in slow motion too. It looked pretty cool. I wish I could have gotten a picture. Liquid suspended in midair. I stopped, looked at the ground and then burst into laughter while Amy and Carlee stared in awe. I don’t think the idiots up on the 3rd floor realized the awesome that had just occurred. I also had to explain to Carlee that I am not a pussy and just spit it out, that in fact, I threw it up. Hardcore enough to take the shot AND bring it right back up, taste it twice. Okay this is disgusting and we are all a bunch of classes whores on a stupid Saturday night. DONT SHOOT GIN!