Well they ran out of episodes of Reno 9-1-1, so I'm back bitch!

-Dave Chappelle

So there was that vacation last week, where it rained the whole time. And I'm 25 now. That pretty much sums up the first gap I've had in blogging. On to the new...
When I came back on Saturday night, I dropped my bag and went right out with my very cool temporary roommate to a roof party on Stanton. It was all very hipster; I even got in a little low-level celebrity banter, chatting with David Cross for a bit. Left and barhopped for a bit until last call, when an extremely hodgepodge group of patchwork friends, pickups, and so-and-so-who-knows-so-and-so's made there way back to my balcony for an afterparty. Very fun time with only one broken wine glass and almost no problems... with the single exception of the wasted stranger left ditched by the boy she was hooking up with after everyone had left. After staggering into a few closets while doing her screeching impersonation of the birds she saves at work for the ASPCA and unsuccessfully searching for "her medication," I finally get her to crash, where I see her arms are deeply scarred by countless self-mutilation cuts. I spend a rather uneasy night on the couch. In the morning I leave for breakfast with my two newest guests from Mexico, waking my roommate and telling her one of her friends' guests hadn't made it out last night and she would have to take care of it. Late that night, I found out she ended up taking the girl to the emergency room, because on the bus ride home a passing police siren sent her into an epileptic seizure. So I suppose the moral is, come to my parties-- they're so good they leave you twitching?