About Last Night

So the annual Petpeswick deck party turned into a rain-soaked, drunken deep-fry and barbeque, set to the lovely seasonal sounds of Mastodon, Battles and Holy Fuck. Onion rings, mozza sticks, custom egg rolls filled with donair meat and homemade sausage - nothing was safe from the bubbling depths of the deep fryer (of Mordor). Six Stella, two burgers, a few pounds of crusty fried detritus, and an insufficient period of sleep later, and my belly is a great bloated and battle-tested ball - ready to birth a nicely battered beef beast with mozzarella legs and onion eyes. Like in Alien. Or Spaceballs. I maintain, the human body was not designed to withstand such torture.

It's a good thing you guys are fun, because I feel like shit today.