It's 8:34

And my housemates all went to the Hose for a beer night. For those of me that don't know, a beer night is a night at the bar when an individual pays ten dollars and can drink as many pints of beer as they can in the allotted time frame, usually about two hours. The deal was that if Katie and Derek went to this beer night tonight for Jen Ballentine, then they would all come to the house party.

We had a house party last night. A party in a house is a house party. A party near a pool is a pool party. There was a theme, dress as something that begins with the same first letter as your first name. Since my first name is Brandonbrown, I decided to dress as something that was a pair of words which both began with the letter B. I was a baseball player with added bat wings, a baseball bat. There were other amazing costumes and the ratio of dress up to non was about even, with a little favour to the dresser uppers. A lot of favour. Music was supplied by Phil Mainville and Prusan Das. They'd never played before and have very different styles, one more of a house head and the other dabbling in the softer side most of the time. Prasun produces some of his own tracks. They played a great show and I only hope that continues to happen. There was a dance off. I remember very vividly standing on the edge of a cypher in my own living room. Braden battled Simon, it was fucking epic. I felt like a bit of an OG, as in ole G, I think, giving the youngins advice that applies not only to life but also dance. That sentence was backwards and I was bragging anyway. I'm sure I was saying nice things, that's about all that I can promise.

After the Bboy battle, the chartreus came out, or maybe it was before. I'm not too sure. It was passed around twice. Once with the six thirteen roomies, then the temperence ones. I did two shots each time. Man. My mom came if I didn't mention that already. She dressed as a hippie, was so awesome. But then she drove. Tsk tsk, she got a drunkenly disappointed phone call from her boy at five thirty in the morning.

Today, cleanup was a snap. Everyone helped before doing their respective responsibilities for the day and my typing skill seems to have flown out the window because I'm half asleep and my fingers are having trouble keeping up with my mind, an unusual ocurance due to the tepedly slow nature of my thought. Focused, as it were, like a laser beam of intimately insignificant creationism. It's now 8:43.