jurassic pork

Didn't do shit on Friday night.

Saturday, I hit up the grocery store, completed three loads of laundry, and ventured to the 'burg to get my hair cut. (Bangs. Layers. Not a mullet.) Then proceeded to head to cookout in Prospect Heights and ate chipotle veggie dogs and a drank Brooklyn Lager on a rooftop. Met up with Josh in the Slope and drank a cerveza while Spanish was spoken all around me. Headed to Bar 4 and did a shot with Paul. Walked home. Crashed.

Sunday, headed to the city. Binge-shopped at H&M and purchased a terry cloth Old Navy bikini (suit and towel all in one!). Trained it to Coney Island and dodged glass in the sand with Josh and Paul. Ran home, showered, changed, trained it to GYC and had a beer with the aforementioned boys until AC showed up.

Had the most amazing dessert (no, the most amazing DISH) ever at Frankies 457 Sputino: red wine prunes with marscapone. I saw stars as I ate it.

Headed back to GYC. Drank beer with boys. Went on a Sparkz run to no avail. Ended up at KM's pad (sans KM, as she's still on vacation). Drank brandy. Danced. (KM, stop reading! You will regret reading this!) Ate bacon-stuffed sausage. (Okay, KM, you may read now.) Crashed. Bolted in the morning before anyone awoke.

Recovery Monday. Finished BSG: Season Three. Talked to SM for almost three hours. Crashed.

Tonight brings trivia. We are Satan's Cheerleaders. We will not come in last place.