9:00pm: Hopped into a cab, as I was late to meet up with my posse with impeccable style. Anderson and Sanderson!
9:01pm: Realized that I had been granted the opportunity to sit in THE CAB OF ALL CABS.
I've puked in my fair share of cabs over the years, so I've seen the ins and outs of
"what's hot" in the department of accessorizing your cab:
- Flat screen TVs showing "The Princess Bride" in order to appease the squealing honies on their way to deh club.
- Little baskets of complimentary mints dangling from the driver's seat head rest (probably riddled with tracings of PCP, and cat urine, but who's going to give up such a kind gesture?!)
ALREADY ATE THEM!
BUT LAST NIGHT WAS MONUMENTAL!
I entered a cab that trumped all of my previously PIMPED OUT cab experiences!!
I had stepped....into a cab....driven by.....A LED ZEPPELIN FREAK!!!!
Bro had souped up his audio system to include a satellite radio station that ONLY played Led Zeppelin. No Matchbox Twenty. No Great Big Sea. No Roxette. JUST TOTES LED ZEP!!
Before I had even really gotten comfortable, he swung his big fat ol' head to face me and gurgled "YOU LIKE ZEPPELIN, YA?!"
This genius had purple Christmas lights on his steering wheel, and had his window down the whole ride BELLOWING "Immigrant Song" (from a live recording, no doubt!)
I tipped the dude generously, as I was sure nothing else would top his performance of the evening.
9:12pm: scarf down a Russell Stovers chocolate, to calm my self down from that psychedelic cab experience.
9:30pm: Inhale second hand smoke, drink gin, and fall in love with YouTube starlet, Cubby (hover your stupid little arrow over the title of this blog entry, and see for yourself!)
12:00am-ish: The gaggle and I make our way to the Tranzac, where Marco's band(s) do their thing.
12:12am: I order this stank beer, in my attempt to be exotic when it comes to my beer selection
12:46am: Some pot-bellied man wearing a silk shirt and a Frankenstein mask, is gyrating in my vicinity while I try and choke back my sludgy beer.
1:20am: Our attempts to enter into the Brunswick House (strictly experimental.........OK?!) are cut short by some chump security guard, telling us that they're full.
1:21am: As we walk away puzzled, AND TOTALLY PISSED (We'd watched Limp Bizkit's "Break Stuff" before leaving the house) we concoct a better explanation as to why they're not letting us in.
1:30am: I depart from the crew, as they're in the mood to spit on frosh at Dance Cave (and if my wallet hadn't been ravaged the week previous, leaving me with my driver's license, I would have TOTALLY have joined in!)