Can everyone stop e-mailing saying, "Duran, please mention my unimportant shit going on?" You guys drive me up the wall crazy! Ah, nah! I love you guys. I can't get enough of the love/hate shit we have going on. I slap you around a bit, but you always come back to me. You better!
Anywho, people I know -- I suppose you could call them friends -- are celebrating the day they escaped their mother's womb as the Vagabond. Some call this a "birthday," I call it a violent eviction out of a warm, amniotic fluid-filled haven. Thursday, my bosom buddy, er, I guess its better just to say buddy 'cause that shit never sounds right, Obi is celebrating his big 2-4 at Money Shot. Napkins will be thrown, bottle will be emptied, fun times will be had. By the way, don't mind those two whores in the background of the flier.
Friday, Gemini's unite as there will be a party at the Vag in your honor. Well, not really. More like in Lolo of Sweat Records and Chipi of Cooljunkie, two of the hottest females I know (of course, after you Tristin). How old are they turning? Gentlemen, you never ask a lady her age. However, I expect the same amount of heavy drinking and possible liver damage. Er, I should call Jackson and tell them to have my usual room ready.
(P.S.: Somebody send me the flier for the Friday event, I can't find it anywhere, but I know I've seen it).
its really not. swear. fuck you.