fuck

pick and flick.


its sunday. woo hoo.
i'm tired still.
had fun last night with friends@a hip hop show at the local skate park.
took Tecato. he was pretty good. only barked a couple time at passing skaters.
its funny how you know people, so when you see them do things, the only thing you can say or think is i figured or i'm not surprised.
i didn't know we were wiggers but apparently me and my whole crew are. thanks to the labeling from Mr.Megaphone.
douche.
oh mr.megaphone better feel lucky i didn't hear it and Art's girl was the only that heard it.
we found out as we were all sitting at Kathy's apartment drinkin a few beers. we all laughed but it still pissed us off.
look at us, not only do we not wear shit like fubu, phat farm or ecko or shady wear or whatever but none of us wear nike or reebok or tim's either. All of us are dirty skate shoe wearing, band t, cheap jean/short wearin' skate kids from westland. we all have tattoo's "wiggers" would never have and then on top of it, if you listened to what Art and Palmer were spinning you would definitely wouldn't have called us that. Slipknot and Pink Floyd were played in between Drum'n'Bass tracks and occassional radio rap with Atmosphere instrumentals being played most of the time with those two scratchin' over top of it. fuck stoopid people.
-end rant.

party after the apartment.

I dubbed it: Sausage Fest 2005. Girl to guy ratio: 6 guys to every one girl. Not only that most of the girls there equalled taken or too nasty for even the most drunken guy there to spark something up with. total party time? an hour tops.

drop kathy off at the apartment. we talked about things i'm going through. leave. get home around 3. sleep till 12. write this journal and head back to the room for a minute.