How I feel after one complete trip through Guns n' Roses' "Chinese Democracy"

I’m sitting on a pigeon crap-encrusted bench with THAT friend.   The one you only see once every few years.  You know, the one that arrives like a tornado.  I’m outside a Subway at 5:17 am.  I’m muttering “I said no fucking onions.”  90% of the digits needed to call the girl who was selling Jell-O shots are written on my arm.  My left Adidas Gazelle is saturated with urine — and NOT my own.    My baseball cap is missing.  My shirt is ripped from a scuffle with a minor league baseball team.  The sun is beginning to rise.

And I am already looking forward to that friend’s next visit.

(If you want an actual review, Klosterman nailed it here.)

0 thoughts on “How I feel after one complete trip through Guns n' Roses' "Chinese Democracy"

  1. You know, I was just wondering to myself why I hadn’t seen any posts from you in my google reader lately.

    Its because I didn’t add you. I was convinced I did and was kind of disappointed that you weren’t posting.

    You were, I was just an idiot.

    You’re added now. I’m looking forward to more stories such as the above.

    Also, I’m impressed that you haven’t been by my blog to give me some hockey grief about how truly awful my team are being so far this year. Its embarassing, really.

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