Took a red-eye the other night out of Seattle to Boston for a week of torture with the families. Ahhhh, family drama, nothing like it. Add to it the humidity, heat and other bullshit and it's on. Came into the city tonight for my old college roomates wedding cookout. Jamaica Plain is where he lives. A war zone is what I call it. Drove right thru a Rosie Perez Puerto Rican parade to get here. Sweet.
It's 3AM and I'm sitting on the stoop (ie a porch monkey) watching the mahem unfold around here. Had to flex thru the window a few times. "Hey CHIEF, get the fuck off my cahr huh?! Don't make me come out there guy, or your gonna get a wicked beat'n buddy! Yea, I THOUGHT so! PUSSY!"
I hate this place. Help.
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