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fucking my girlfriend new year's eve, upper west side of manhattan, up in the sleeping loft, where the ceiling is about 4' off the mattress and its another apartment upstairs. she's making a ton of noise and the champagne and drugs are just taking us along for the ride (oh how i miss that crazy psycho bitch with the great little weehawken body..)
up early the next morning for coffee and bagels
upstairs neighbor, total punkass, is walking in as i'm walking out
and he fucking *salutes* me
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"Asking a bomb squad if an old bomb is still "real" is not the best thing to do if you want to save it." - denim
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