Keystone Beer. The Pabst of the poor. The staple of the thirsty. The elixir of the modern day college-town hipster.

Sure, we’d like Guiness. Of course we’d fancy a Newcastle!

But at 2 am, when mgmt and the pixies have each had their fair share of airtime, and theres a broken 40 in the corner from one of the selfish lushes who brings 40z, everyone is down for a 15 dolla 30 pack. And the powers of keyst0ne with its “specially lined can” are once again summoned. 

Actually as I write this, I’m eyeing a can in the corner of my room right now. I’m not really sure when that got there, maybe last night or maybe two weeks ago. I can’t make out what the “joke” says on the side, but i’m sure it’s clever. 

I think I lived out two fantasies last night. One was my stripper fantasy (ongoing and insatiable though). I pulled quite a stunt in which I dipped it low on a 8 ft tall bamboo stick. Why a bamboo stick was in my living room, I really couldn’t tell you. But it made one hell of a slide-stick, as I greased it up with my sticky beer hands and slid down it with all the grace of a hardened coke-whore (not really, I wish). 

My second fantasy was lived out when I “hip-hop” danced for at least an hour with a good friend who had downed at least one 40 in the prior 15 minutes (she’s the greedy 40 bringer!). I felt like a straight up pussy cat doll meets Missy Elliott.

Good times, Thursday night, good times.

Today will be pure glutony and relaxation. I had a hard-ass week (no school today on account of OU-TX, the biggest red-blooded football rivalry in the lower 48). 

smoke a J and go see Devil? I think so.