a vodka press and a shot of blog

This blogasauras is dedicated to my long time friend Olivia, who is in my opinion a “social demon.” I am on the tour de livia, with the weekend off work and my boyfriend out of town I am at a loss with how to spend my time. So last night I went to a Vestal party where she toted me around like a brand new maltese introducing me to the creme de la creme of newport-mesa society. I must tip my hand and raise my drink to the fine leaders of the skate industry in Costa Mesa for throwing countless parties, without which we may never see such an amount of fine looking young men drinking Colt45 in such a confined area. Eventually the beer ran out, I lost my cellphone, check-card, and my voice, so it was time to go…
I washed away this mornings hangover with my fave saturday morning ritual: brunch at the Cannery. With a few of my best boys working and and friends lining the bar-top its always a good time. Charlie pours some of the tastiest cocktails on this side of Lido bridge, and we always appreciate the impeccable service. The afternoon seems to be escaping me.. the beach is calling my name…

The opportunity to ingest mind and mood altering liquids arose far too quickly yesterday, and consequently I never posted part one of my weekend endeavors. Before I could entirely sober up from the afternoon at the cannery I was en route to Hogue Barmichael’s for my first ever Dirty Heads show. Double vodka press was the drink of the evening , and possibly the drink of the summer. The company was some of my favorite party people and my oldest drinking buddies. My most beloved guy friends who at one point in life puled me out of the gutter by my bootstraps after I was dumped like a bad habit, were super stoked on the band so I had high expectations… I was in no way disappointed. Dirty Heads totally kill it. With a fine long haired duo behind microphones spitting positive lyrics that make you want to light and joint and kick back a good time was had by all. Danielle my sister was a drunken source of joy all night who now says, “I quit counting after my second vodka press…oops.” I’d like to thank my taxi driver for taking us to taco bell on the way home, because that baja chicken chalupa most likely saved my life.

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