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the story:
somewhere in northern baltimore, eric, the last roommate remaining in a
ghetto-fab house, was being removed so that it could be sold. "fuck it,"
he thought, "why not throw a party?" why not, indeed. the music--provided
by dj amiga--was good (as always), the white russians were bad (i think
the green color should've been a clue), and we all learned that heat, humidity,
and tight plaid dresses with fishnets (meow!) have far more power
over the psyche than alcohol will ever hope to claim. great times, and
great people. thanks, eric. |
